#should’ve hit him when he first came out the womb

[tender-rosiey]

god forbid ever comes a day where I have to rely on my brother 🙏

[egcdeath]

second chances

pairing: softdark!steve rogers x reader 

summary: you wake up on the side of the road with no memories, no possessions, and no place to go. luckily, an attractive stranger arrives just in time to help you out. 

word count: 4.6k

warnings: there are some soft moments, but this is ultimately a dark fic!!! alluding to kidnapping, deceit, mention of knife, drugging, abuse (mostly mental/emotional, but implied physical), amnesia, brief alcohol mention, nightmares, mention of bodily harm, bed sharing **if i’m missing any warnings, let me know

author’s note: this is my first dark fic without a dark reader, so please be nice! it took me nearly a whole month to get it where i want it to be (i’m a slow writer, i know) but i’m actually pretty proud of this. 

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

After what seemed like years of waiting, the opportunity finally lent itself, a small pocket knife sat right in your peripheral view. A dangerous mixture of adrenaline and impulse filled you, not even granting you the time to think before you were clumsily extending your arm, and wielding the knife. 

The blade popped out, and you held it with a shaky hand in front of your captor.

“Really?” he scoffed, “you’re gonna kill me.”

There was no attempt on his part to stop you, in fact, he smiled and leaned back slightly.

Your whole body trembled at this point, you could barely form words, let alone move. But this was your chance.

“So do it, Y/N. Kill me,” his voice steadily rose as he approached you, long legs making their way across the room.

Before you knew it, he was standing in front of you, hand approaching your own. He wrapped it around your wrist and gripped down on you like a snake, causing you to emit a tiny yelp.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, voice steady as your hands trembled around the grip.

“Exactly. You’re still as fucking pathetic as you were the day I met you,” a slap stung your left cheek, a mark that was sure to be there for the days following. 

The knife clattered as it hit the linoleum floor, and you followed its path, crumbling on the floor and breaking into tear-less sobs. 

“Remember this moment, sweetheart. You’ll never get a chance like this again,” he swooped up the knife before walking away from you, leaving a broken woman in his wake.

——

You went from experiencing nothing to everything all at once. Your brain seemed to be attempting to escape your head as it pressed against your eyes, and you struggled to open them, lashes feeling like they were glued together. Rain poured down on your head, and you concluded that it had been pouring on you for a while, as you were completely soaked to the bone. 

As you looked at yourself and your body, a curled up and bruised mess on the side of the road, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened to you, or at all. You weren’t even sure that you had memories apart from the ones that were processing in that exact moment. It was as if you’d exited the womb for a second time, clueless to where you were, who you are, or how you got there. 

You shivered as you pulled yourself to your feet, weak ankles shaking in glittery heels and body trembling in a half-torn dress. Wherever you came from couldn’t have been good.

You slipped off the shoes and held them in your hands as you walked down the side of the deserted road, bare feet sloshing in mud as you did so. You didn’t have an idea where you were, or where the nearest sign of life was. You were tempted to walk on the soaked, petrichor scented road, but you knew that that wasn’t your best idea.

You truly had no good options. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No one to save you. You wanted to collapse back onto the ground, give into your screaming body that was becoming more and more tired by the moment. Hot tears began to slip down your face, contrasting the cold of the raindrops falling onto your body. 

All hope was lost, you’d die any time now, and that would just be it. You looked up at the overcast sky and screamed at it, mentally begging for someone, anyone, to help. That you’d forever be grateful to god, or the universe, or whatever it was that was out there that put you in the situation you were in. 

You screamed and sobbed until your throat was raw, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to produce any more sound, sitting down onto the damp ground and wishing for your inevitable death to be a swift and painless one. 

Yet, your pity party was crashed just moments later by a beaming red light and the soft hum of a motor coming down the road. This was your one chance. Who knew when the next time you’d see a sign of human life was?

You jumped to your feet and waved your hands like a madwoman, trying to catch the attention of the male behind the driver's seat. He began to come to a stop, pulling over a bit to see you better.

His face was angelic, a strong jaw and soft eyes that looked like they had seen more than the average person. When he spoke, you felt heaven become drowsy with harmony. Or maybe you were just really tired. Regardless, your pleas to a higher power had proved fruitful, as your knight and shining armor had just pulled up beside you to save the day.

He rolled a window down, and you got closer to the door.

“Need a ride, ma’am?” he called.

You simply nodded and approached the vehicle, opening the door hesitantly. You sat down on the seat, and jumped a bit when you felt heat radiating onto the back of your thighs.

“I’m Steve. You?” 

You chuckled awkwardly, “that’s a great question that I wish I could answer. It’s actually kind of a long story. Well, I assume it’s long since I can’t remember any of it. But maybe I will later. Nice to meet you anyway, Steve.”

He nodded understandingly, completely unfazed by your lack of name. Maybe he had prior experience with hitchhikers, as he was approaching this situation with a nearly suspicious calmness. “Well… where’re you heading?” the man asked, looking over at you.

“I, uh, I have no idea,” you said raspily, throat still sore from your previous screaming.

The blonde’s lip quirked at this, as if he were holding back a much bigger smile, “that’s fine. I’m heading a few towns away, but I was thinking of stopping and getting some breakfast. You interested in that?”

You shrugged, becoming slightly uncomfortable in the quickly dampening seat. Steve glanced over at you after putting the car in drive, and noticed your discomfort from your prior stay in the rain.

“We can stop by a bathroom first. I’ve got some extra clothes with me in the back,” he suggested. You nodded quietly, looking at the vast, and empty road ahead. 

----

You sat in a diner booth dressed in a thick jacket and comfortable sweatpants that oddly enough, seemed to be exactly your size. Steve approached the table with an extra plate of fries, and set it gently in front of you. 

“So you don’t remember anything?” he asked, stealing a fry before sitting down across from you. 

You shook your head, bringing a salty fry to your mouth, “I swear I just woke up there. No memories, no nothing, no place to go. I mean, I was gonna die out there if you didn’t get me.”

Steve scoffed a bit at this, “that’s not true. I’m sure someone would’ve helped eventually.”

“Maybe. But I’m glad that it was you,” you looked up at him, and the fondness he was looking at you with was nearly suffocating. 

Steve paused for a moment, mulling over his next words as if he was looking for the exact right thing to say.

“Would you like to stay with me? I mean, I know we just met each other, but I just have this feeling. Like I was meant to find you. Besides, it doesn’t seem like you have anywhere else to go.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you excused after a moment, popping out of the both and heading towards the ladies room.

You handled your business, and stared at yourself in the mirror as you washed your hands. Makeup ran down your face, and it almost appeared that you were melting. Who would pick someone up in such a state? You had to question this Steve guy’s character a little bit. You couldn’t remember the exact phrase, but it couldn’t be smart to get into a car with a stranger. Especially a stranger offering to take you to some secret location with them. After all, he could be a murderer, a kidnapper, or a rapist. You would be none the wiser.

But he fed you, clothed you, and offered you a form of shelter. He couldn’t be too ill intentioned if he was willing to go out of his way to help, right? Maybe he just wanted to keep you off the streets, and that was why he was willing to take you to wherever it was that he was going.

Your stomach turned the longer you watched yourself, the longer you thought. Perhaps your intuition found that something was off. But who even knew if you could trust your intuition, after all, you were basically a day old, and you didn’t seem to have any other option.

——

You ended up going back out into the diner and accepting Steve’s offer. You didn’t really have much of a choice, and he wasn’t exactly a bad one. 

Steve was quiet for the majority of your trip, only speaking when he noticed that you’d moved your sights from the window over to him. He didn’t seem to be a fan of the way you were studying him, but for some reason your eyes kept finding him.

Hours had passed in the day, and night was quickly approaching. You dozed as you watched the starry night from the passenger window. Your eyes were becoming heavier by the moment, hours worth of watching flat landscape, combined with the complexity of your day finally catching up to you.   

——

Cold. You felt cold. The floor was cold. The blood running through your veins was cold. Your brain was cold and freezing, hindering you from properly processing what was going on in front of you. 

A searing pain rolled through your body as you tumbled down the stairs, back into a room that was suffocatingly familiar.

“I should’ve never allowed you to leave. Ungrateful,” a faceless man followed you down the stairs and hovered over your now battered body. “I give you a home and you complain. I take care of you, giving you almost anything you could ever ask for. You complain. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position? With someone like me taking care of them?” 

“You told me you loved me, you goddamn liar. I let you come upstairs, and you try to fucking kill me. I should kill you,” he seethed, leaning down over you.

But I won’t.

The words were unspoken, but familiar. A threat uttered to you before, usually followed with an ‘I’ll make your life a living hell instead.’

You were unable to speak, as if someone had ripped out your vocal cords. Suddenly the faceless man was reaching down and holding the bloody organs in his hands. Your blood ran cold once again. 

“You can’t even fathom the hell I want to release on you right now,” he continued, chest puffing out with exaggerated, angered breaths. “But I’ll be the bigger man. Because I love you,” he dropped the cords on the ground beside you, and your eyes flicked over to the mutilated part of yourself. “Y/N, I need you to prove to me that you love me.”

You wanted to beg, to plead and tell the man whatever he needed to hear in order to release you, but you were completely powerless. 

The man hoisted you up with ease, and you soundlessly whimpered. He carried you into a small, plain room and set you on the flat, stiff mattress on the floor. 

“Come on, Sweetheart. You know I’m doing this for us.” 

The faceless man kissed your forehead, and the feeling of dread overtook you.

——

You awoke with a gasp, clawing at your own neck to make sure that your vocal cords were still intact.

“You alright?” Steve asked, glancing over at you. “Should I pull over?”

“No, I’ll be fine,”  you whispered.

“Take some deep breaths for me, okay?” he advised, setting a reassuring hand on top of yours. “We’ll be at the hotel any minute now.”

——

Your nerves were absolutely fried by the nightmare. Your hands shook like leaves in the wind while you stood next to Steve as he checked you into your hotel room.

“How’re you doing?” he asked in the elevator, setting his large hand on top of yours once again. The gesture was calming, even if you felt a slight undermining feeling of something unsettling.

“A little better. I probably just need to lay down somewhere comfortable.”

Steve nodded and squeezed your hand, “you’ve had a long day. You have first dibs on the shower. Maybe it’ll help you relax.” 

The smile that Steve was giving you was comforting. You felt glad that he was the person to have picked you up.

The elevator made a little ding noise before the doors opened, and he guided you to your room. 

You made a beeline to the shower, not even taking the time to be impressed with the size of the hotel room, the amenities, or the quality of it. You just wanted to shed your clothes and find at least a moment of peace. 

You exited the bathroom after about a half an hour, and walked out into the suite in just a towel. 

“Can I borrow some more clothes?” you glanced over at Steve, who was openly checking you out from the comfort of the bed.

Wait, the bed.

There were way too many things going on for you to be focused on the fact that there was just one bed. Maybe Steve would offer to sleep on the sofa.

“Yeah, that’s fine. My teammate left some clothes in that smaller blue suitcase. It’ll probably fit,” Steve paused for a few moments as you found the aforementioned suitcase and looked for something comfortable that you could actually sleep in.

“Who did that to you?” he asked, gesturing at your bruised legs.

“I don’t… I don’t know. It’s all so blurry,” you sighed, settling on a fresh pair of sweatpants and a thin t-shirt. “I’ll be right back.”

You changed quickly in the residually steamy bathroom, and sat down at the foot of the bed. 

“Do we need to have a fistfight over who gets to sleep in the bed?” Steve joked and you shook your head.

“I can sleep on the sofa, if you want.”

“No way. You deserve something comfortable,” he got out of bed, and approached the bathroom to take his own shower. “Get nice and cozy, friend. You deserve it.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, and you moved up to the top of the bed, slipping under the covers and sighing aloud from relief. Your body was finally having a chance to relax, and the hotel bed was surprisingly comfortable. 

By the time Steve returned from the shower, you were already half asleep, and very unaware of your surroundings.

As you fell out of consciousness, you had blurry visions of confinement, punishments, and pain. You once again woke up with a gasp, but this time Steve was standing over you. 

“Deep breaths, okay? I saw you thrashing and mumbling something to yourself. I think you were having a bad dream.”

You nodded and panted, trying to catch your breath and slow down your hummingbird heart rate. 

“You’re safe, I promise.”

“Can you stay with me?” you stammered out.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve got into bed beside you, and rubbed your back as you curled into a fetal position, “just try to relax, okay? There isn’t anything to fear when I’m here with you.”

You nodded, clutching onto Steve’s genuine tone. Something about him just made you feel… safe, despite the possible red flags around him. 

After Steve got into bed with you, you were finally able to fall into a dreamless and peaceful sleep. 

——

You woke up to an empty and cold bed. You blinked a few times and looked around the room, eyes stopping on Steve as he watched you from the couch, eyes quickly flipping between yourself and the book in his hands in an effort to cover up his staring. 

The whole ordeal made you feel slightly off, but the realization that you were essentially mooching off a stranger felt worse. 

You hopped out of bed and anxiously paced towards the bathroom. “Shit, Steve,” you muttered. “I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this. I should probably leave.”

“Where else do you have to go?” Steve almost defensively questioned, frown deep on his face.

You took a deep sigh and shrugged, “I… don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to go,” he began, sounding unsure in his words, “stay. With me,” he stood up and walked over to you, grabbing the back of your arm softly. “You’re not taking advantage of me. If anything, you’re helping me. I get pretty lonely on these kinds of missions, so please, stay with me.”

You turned to look at Steve, the deep creases in his face at the thought of losing you. With just a glance, you knew that you couldn’t leave. 

——

The next few days of your life had proved your theory. It was almost alarming how quickly Steve became your anchor in the midst of a new, overwhelming world. 

The first thing that he did for you was tell you what your name was. As confused as you were to how exactly he figured it out, (he told you that he knew some weird tech guy. You were prepared to go with anything), you were grateful that Steve was able to help you out a piece of your old life back together.

He was oddly patient with you as you learned more and more about your surroundings. You were most impressed by the grocery store, and may or may not have spent hours inside of that food palace, spending much more of Steve’s money than was socially acceptable. 

For the next few months, you stayed at a safe house with Steve, spending the majority of your time looking down at your reflection in the lake in the backyard, wondering if your memories could ever come back.

You’d grown closer with Steve in that time as well, he was really the only person that you’d gotten close with since you’d lost your memories. Now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t said more than three sentences to anyone else. By that measurement, your next closest friend was a gas station cashier.

In fact, you’d started dating Steve. Granted, you couldn’t completely wrap your mind around it all, despite the hours of rom-coms you’d watched while Steve was gone on missions. You just knew that you cared a lot about Steve. When he was around you, your heart fluttered. He was the only person you truly felt comfortable with. He protected you time after time, and voiced to you just how much he adored you. 

It made you feel wanted, to know that despite all of the confusion, you still had a place in this world, even if the place was just Steve Rogers’ heart. 

——

Steve arrived at the safe house late at night after nearly a week of being off on another mission. The bed creaked as he got into bed with you, and pressed up against your sleeping form. 

“Steve, sometimes I have these really awful dreams. Mostly when you’re not with me,” you began out of the blue as his arms snaked around you. “It’s always this faceless man just… abusing me. And I can’t even do anything about it because I’m too weak. And I can’t say anything because he stole my vocal cords. It sounds so silly, because it’s all just a dream, but it all feels so real. I just... I need you to promise me that you’ll protect me no matter what. Especially against him.”

“Of course,” he whispered against the back of your head, “I promise that I’ll protect you from him. He’ll never even get the chance to let the thought cross his mind.” 

“I love you, Steve,” you mumbled sleepily, “please never leave me again.”

He’d been waiting to hear those words.

——

Your fingers wrapped around a warm mug while Steve put the finishing touches on your breakfast. He’d decided to go all out that morning, with an impressive spread of food that would put most buffets to shame. For a moment, you questioned if you’d forgotten about some important holiday, or an anniversary.

Steve set a plate down in front of you, then pressed a soft peck to your forehead, “enjoy, sweetheart.”

You grinned softly down at the food, and at the affection, “what’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Just relieved to be back. I don’t like being away from you for too long,” he settled into the seat across from you, and took a sip of his own coffee.

“Mm, you sure? You’re not always this chipper post mission.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head just the slightest bit, “alright. You got me. I wanted to save it as a surprise, but I hate keeping secrets from you,” Steve paused.

“So… what’s the secret?” you pressed, bringing a forkful of food up to your mouth.

“I’m retiring.”

Your eyes widened as you heard the news, and you nearly choked, “are you really?”

Steve simply nodded, “I’m ready for the next chapter of my life with you.”

Your heart fluttered at the sweetness of his gesture, and the slightest hint of nerves. Why was Steve so willing to give up his entire livelihood for someone he knew for less than a year?

You felt bad for questioning his motives, considering that Steve had been nothing but good to you in the time that you knew him. If it wasn’t for him, you probably wouldn’t even be alive. He had proved himself to be an amazing, loving man, who had bent over backwards to keep you safe and comfortable. He trusted you, and it was time for you to do the same.

“I’ve been plotting this for a while, to be honest. You might think this is a little fast, but I even have a permanent place for us to stay.”

You couldn’t find it in you to be skeptical for much longer, your feelings of adoration for Steve overruling your hesitance to jump into something like that with him. 

You smiled softly as Steve spoke, getting up and pacing over to where he was seated so you could give him a hug, “I.. yes, that’s fast, but it’s also kinda amazing,” you sighed softly, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “When are we leaving?”

“Tonight, if that’s alright with you. I was thinking that we could spend the day packing up and… celebrating,” he winked down at you, and you looked up to shake your head fondly. 

“That sounds like a plan,” you gazed at him with adoration, and leaned up to press a soft peck to his lips that was lovingly reciprocated. 

——

Music pounded against your eardrums as you ground against a handsome stranger, one you couldn’t see, but instinctively knew. The smell of sweat, liquor, and sex filled your nose, the rancid combination oddly comforting in a retrospective moment. 

“We’re leaving!” A voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like years informed you. Your face broke into a wide grin when you heard her voice. “But it doesn’t look like you care!” she jeered. “Good luck!” your friend laughed, disappearing in the sea of people. 

“You’re coming home with me, right?” he asked, a hot breath against your cheek. 

You nodded. The words refused to come out. 

“Good,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to your neck.

Out of the blue, you weren’t in the club, but in the small basement room from before, staring at nothing in particular while sat at the edge of your vanity’s seat.

“I’ve tried everything with you,” he commented, leaning against the doorway casually. You felt the need to apologize, to tell your captor that you didn’t mean to do what you did, that you loved him. Plead for him not to punish you. “After months of submission, I thought that we were finally getting somewhere. Why’d you have to throw it all away?” 

Glancing up at the vanity, a woman with sunken eyes, a pained expression, and fading bruises looked back at you, just long enough for you to briefly become that messy, drunken woman at the club once again. 

“I’ve tried everything with you. The easy way clearly didn’t work,” he continued, “you leave me with no other options, my love,” the man sighed, sitting down next to you casually. “I want you to know that I’m doing this for us. You know that nothing good ever comes easy, right?”

The syringe went into your arm like a hot knife through butter, and your muscles clenched as fire filled your body. You went to scream, but your throat was still out of commission. As you went down, your vision and thoughts began to blur before you couldn’t decipher one thing or another. The final noise you could make out was the distortedly slow rendition of It’s Been a Long, Long Time on the record player.

In an out-of-body moment, you watched as the man pulled your relaxed body down to the floor, cautiously pulling the clothes off of you and making you cringe internally at the sight of yourself in such a state. He left your body alone for a moment as he looked through the negligible amount of clothing in your closet, grabbing the same dress from the night at the club and pulling it on your limp figure.

It was torn and messy, not unlike the state it was in when you found yourself conscious. The faceless man muttered something unintelligible to himself before hoisting you up bridal style and taking your body out to the car. 

You watched in terror as this all played out, your slack face looking disturbingly at peace compared to how you’d appeared before. In fact, even in your ghastly state, you felt at peace. 

That peace quickly came to an end as you watched yourself get ditched on the side of the road, and as your body slowly began to twitch back to consciousness, your dream began to fade away.

——

You dragged your suitcase up through the garage, grateful to be at your final destination with the man you’d fallen in love with. You hoped that after moving in, the dreams might finally stop. After all, your dream in the car felt somewhat final. You were trying your best to be as positive as you could manage in such a strange situation, and from the outside, you had to admit that the house was gorgeous.

Stepping inside felt like the worst case of deja vu you’d ever experienced, as if your memories were repairing themself with every millisecond you were in the home, gazing at furniture you hadn’t seen in months, and smelling faint scents that you’d forgotten existed. Feature by feature, the puzzle pieces of the faceless man came together.

The longer you observed, the worse the feeling became. Waves of grief, fear, and pain were rolling over you again and again until you were completely drowning on it. The realization hit you with a ton of bricks: this was the house from your dreams.

Steve came up behind you, snapping you out of your panicked trance. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and squeezed you close to him.

“Ready for the first day of the rest of your life?”

[jackrrabbit]

Bloodlust /// Sanemi x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: A naive demon is waylaid by the Wind Hashira.

A/N: Might fuck around and get back into KNY…Sanemi is one mean bastard, and I’m here for it. Be warned—this is pretty brutal (not by canon standards, but still). ngl I’ve missed writing stuff like this 🥺

Tags/warnings: sadomasochism, noncon, hatefucking!!!! is def the best way to describe what happens in this fic, threats, violence, demon reader & demon things, primal, degradation, outdoor sex, bloodplay & marechi kink stuff, yandere? obsessive fixation ig, some creative liberties have been taken with canon

You’d almost forgotten what it feels like to be weak.

Strength came with the territory when you were turned into a demon, along with the hunger: all-encompassing, oppressive, like you’re starving every second you’re not eating. Apparently you’re better able to control your hunger than other demons, not that you’ve met many—none, actually, other than the one who turned you. He was the one who told you to exercise control, who told you that you’ve done well to stealthily pick off prey that wouldn’t be missed instead of attracting attention. He was the one who told you about demon slayers.

You almost laughed at the idea at the time. A group of humans who tried to resist demons? Tried to kill them? How? Every human you’ve encountered since you were turned—hunters, mostly, men who’d wandered into the woods looking for something to eat—has been pathetically weak against you. Life as a demon is simple. As long as you stay in the shadows and avoid the sun, you have nothing to fear.

Sometimes you daydream about making your way to a village and gorging yourself, but you don’t mind the hunger so much. You can get by on scraps. And besides, the demon who turned you warned you not to go overboard. He said to stay away from the humans’ notice—not that the threat of some human calling themselves a “demon slayer” bothered you. You know how strong you are; you can feel it in your blood, your muscles, your bones. You don’t understand how a flesh-and-blood human could threaten that.

You don’t understand…until you meet him. The Wind Hashira. You should’ve listened to the warnings about demon slayers.

Bitter.

It tastes bitter, and you try to ground yourself on that taste, the sharp, bitter-wet flavor of the grass and dew and earth because the slayer is shoving your face into the dirt and the copper from where you’re biting into your lip and holding back the sound of your voice. Not that he cares, probably. But you don’t think you could take hearing yourself moan for a human while he carves the shape of his cock into your pussy.

How did you…get here? Facedown, barely holding yourself up on your elbows, chest and stomach shoved into the grass with your back arched up and your kimono ridden above your hips… Fuck, you can barely remember the fight, his ability, him wrestling you into the earth and shoving his weight down on you and bringing his blade to his own arm and—

—his blood, so rich and thick and sweet that even recalling the smell of it sends a wave of heat through you and you whine under your breath. The hunger overtakes everything else you’re feeling, but only for a second before with a twitch of his hand the Hashira brings the edge of his sword to the tender skin of your throat. “Ah-ah,” he rasps out a laugh even though his voice is heavy and strained. “What was that? Are you starting to like it?”

“K-Kill you, I’ll—kill you,” you snarl, but you and him both know the threat is empty. You tried. And you failed.

“Fucking demon whore,” he spits, and the blade slips just enough to draw a hair-thin line of red across your neck, earning a yelp from you even though you don’t dare move any more for fear of letting it cut you deeper. When you go still, he grunts and you can hear him shifting position in the grass, angling your hips up so his cock can sink in again. “Asking for it…fuck…”

“I wasn’t—nngh—ah, ahhh, s-stop—you can’t—” Your words are coming out in babbles, barely intelligible but it’s his fault. He’s pushing up at your womb, pulling out in short, quick thrusts and slamming his cock back into your cunt so hard and rough it’s like he’s knocking the breath out of your lungs. It hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurts, an ache deep in your core and accompanied with a heat and tension that you hate even more than you hate the pain, because it means he’s right. You—no, your body, your traitorous pathetic weak body that submitted to his so easily—it’s starting to like this.

“How’s it feel?” He’s mocking you, fisting his fingers in your hair and wrenching your head back so he can look you in the eye. “Does it hurt?…it hurts, right? Good.”

“—i-it doesn’t—“ You don’t even believe it yourself.

“Yes…it does. Guess even a demon bitch like you can’t take me that easily.” Somehow the slayer’s hips keep pumping deeper, pushing his fat cock through your walls and against the entrance to your womb until you’re certain your unnatural healing can’t keep up with the bruising in your cunt. Your fingers are scrabbling in the grass, digging clawed nails into the earth—the little nick on your throat has already knitted itself back up, but the tension in your pussy is a dozen—a hundred—times worse.

“—stop, let me go—“ Debased. Lower than an animal. You’d be begging if you thought he would listen.

“‘Stop’? How are you going to...ungh, make me stop? Want to try to fight me off again?” He pulls out (you hate the way your cunt feels when he does, hot and slick and empty) and his grip on the sword slackens, easing up enough to give you a scanty inch of movement. “Go ahead, give it a try.”

The slayer’s taunting you—just like you taunted him at the start of this, when you first challenged him, when you thought he was a human—and, and somehow he is, still human and yet just as much a monster as you are. More. You’ve been cruel, you’ve done evil things, but you did them to survive. Fuck, you shouldn’t—shouldn’t have taunted him, shouldn’t have boasted, should’ve stayed hidden in the dark. You didn’t know. He wasn’t supposed to be this strong.

Your muscles are shaking from exertion as you brace your hands against the ground, trying to push up against the weight of his body so you can right yourself, but it’s futile. Within a second (less than a second) of your attempt to move, one of his scarred hands slaps over your wrist and crushes it back into the dirt, grip so tight you swear you can almost feel your bones grinding underneath. You snarl, try to twist yourself away from him but the hilt of his sword slams down flat against your other hand so hard you feel a dull pang of surprise that nothing actually breaks.

“So weak…try that again and I’ll use the sharp end.” His chest is moving back on top of yours, and you recognize the silent rhythm of the movement.

He’s laughing at you.

Weak. You know it’s true. You thought you were so strong, but compared to this Hashira you’re nothing. Pure unadulterated defeat is written in every cell of your body, and whatever animal instinct you have left from your human life is telling you to roll over and accept that he’s the predator, and you’re nothing more than prey. But the mockery, the ease with which he holds you down, the goddamn fucking laughter sparks a fresh wave of hatred and you thrash and squirm underneath his body. “You’re dead, you—I’ll kill you, I’ll tear you apart, they’ll be picking bits of you out of this forest for weeks—“

The red haze over your vision is so heavy that you barely notice the blade tilting into position—not over your skin, but against his. You only register what he’s doing when the glint of sunlight on the blade reflects brilliant white, and you catch a scarlet line of blood beading against it. You pull back, eyes going wide, trying not to inhale but your lungs betray you and,

oh ohhh fuck it smells good smells so good you want it you want it so fucking bad you’re going to die if you can’t taste it you need it you need it you NEED IT.

Your muscles go slack. You’re salivating already, dizzy from hunger, so intensely focused on the smell of his blood that you can’t help your compliance as he pulls your hips up into place and slips his cock back into your pussy. Only when it starts to hurt again—a dull soreness now, because he’s slowed his pace to push his thick shaft into you inch by inch—do you feel that same prickle of hatred and disgust, but who cares who cares that you’re getting fucked because the smell of his blood is driving you out of your mind with need.

You no longer have the self-control to hold back your voice, and when the slayer hears the pathetic little mewl dripping out of your mouth from the sensation of him filling you up, he laughs again. But this time you don’t care, you just want him, want his body, his blood. Your jaw snaps open and shut on instinct and you whine, pleading, because you’re past the point of believing that you can beat him.

“You like that? Want to taste?” His voice is softer now, but the vein of mockery still runs clear through every syllable.

Your head jerks up and down desperately and then he draws his hips back and slaps his cock between your aching walls, pushing a huffed “uhhn!” out of your lips—but you don’t pull away. You can tolerate this, if it means getting to taste that blood dripping down his fingers, over the sword grip still held in his palm, just to be wasted on the grass. Out of your reach.

“So docile now…think I could get used to this,” the slayer sighs, adjusting the position of his thighs so he can thrust into you lazily and deeply. “F-Fuck, you’re—tight, you know that? All hot and sticky inside…”

“—let me have it, need it I need it, why—“ Your head is spinning, feels like you’re…what? The intoxication is hitting some note deep in the recesses of your memory, a past life you aren’t supposed to be able to recall. Bitter taste on your tongue, liquid pouring, fuzzy edges bordering your vision. Drunkenness.

“Little demon bitch,” he growls, tapping the blade lightly against your neck when you snap your teeth at him again. “Said you were going to kill me, yeah? But now you’re moaning like a whore…”

You try to muster a denial, but you can’t.

The slayer’s other hand twists underneath the two of you to press up on your lower belly, pushing into the place where his cock is nudging up against your womb. You keen at the pressure, the slow friction against that little patch in your cunt that makes you slicker every time his cockhead passes over it. “Feel how deep I am in your cunt…? I can—feel your pulse on my cock, fuck.”

You can feel it too, your heartbeat echoed in the twitches of your pussy around his skin, quick and fluttering from the drunken stupor his blood has forced you into. Every sense is heightened, and the weight of his hand pushing up on your belly just makes it worse…or better. You’re not sure.

He swallows, and with his body on top of yours you can feel his heavy breathing puffing out over the bared skin of your neck. “Can demons even cum? If you can get wet, then you can cum too, right? I bet I can…bet I can make you cum, you fucking whore. Wouldn’t that be nice…get you creaming on my cock, make you my little fuckpet…”

His hand slips down from your belly to rub roughly at your cunt, pushing into your skin to seek out the little button at the top—and the feeling of his hands on you like this, the sharp jolt of pleasure somehow sends a splinter of clarity through your delirium. “No,” you wail, hearing how wanton you sound and hating it. “I can’t I can’t, please, please don’t make me—“

“Quiet.” His thick forearm wraps around your neck, tightening against your windpipe and cutting off your voice. “Learn your place, demon—the only reason you’re alive is because you’re a nice wet hole for me to use. So when I tell you to cum—“

His pace picks up, hips knocking yours deeper, splitting you apart while he swirls his fingers around that sweet spot—and then the smell of copper gets thicker and he’s pushing his bloody hand against your mouth—

“—you cum.”

You’re not sure whether it’s your cunt or the taste of his blood smearing over your lips that does it, but as soon as he says the word you shatter like glass. The heat is brutal horrible delicious and so overwhelming you’re surprised you’re conscious through it—every hair is standing up on end and your body pulls tight like a bowstring, arching your backside into his hips so you can feel every inch of your cunt sucking around him.

It’s bliss—sickeningly sweet, burning like fire through you—without thinking, you eagerly lick the scarlet liquid off his hand and fuck somehow, somehow, it tastes even better than it smelled—feels like you could live off just the blood in your mouth but you want more, you’d die for it, you’d do anything, and your teeth are bared ready to puncture his skin deeper when—

Cold steel slides up under your jaw, almost nicking one of the veins pumping blood up to your hazy brain. “Keep—ahh, yesss…d-damn it—keep still,” the slayer rasps. “No teeth.”

He’s not finished.

Every muscle in your body aches for you to ignore him, but the knowledge of how easily he could separate your head from your body makes you obey, dragging your tongue over his still-bleeding cut instead of biting down. You can hear the noises of damp skin against skin issuing out from where your bodies meet, but you’re not sure whether it’s from you lapping at his fingers or his cock pressing in and out of your sopping-wet cunt. Probably both. Not that it matters.

The slayer’s head lowers—you know it by the angle of his cock inside your twitching pussy and the faint tickle of his hair brushing against the skin of your neck—and then you feel his teeth sinking into the side of your throat. They’re blunt, of course, as harmless as any human’s, but the primal dominance of the action sends a shudder through you.

“Not bad…looks like demons are good for something after all. I think I might just keep you,” the slayer laughs. His voice is too close—you want to flinch back, spit at him, bite—but you can’t. You’re helpless.

You’re weak.

[shorkbrian]

Infuriated

Prelude - ok.

Y’all are so horny for Levi Sir and I get it he’s hot lol. I am trying to get to everyone’s asks I promise!!! Also it’s up to you why Levi is mad lol

Prompts - 

Pairing - Levi Ackerman X Reader

Warnings - NSFW, dubcon, noncon, choking, mentions of snuff, emotionally compromised Levi, overstim.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/2f2hbFjim051DVx0o8o4rU?si=5waL376sSRSqjN2j8G0Y8w

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He comes home in a bad mood.

He shuts the door quietly, and it’s clear he’s beyond pissed. Past the point of yelling, of slamming the door and causing you to flinch with the indicator of his foul mood. It’s not you he’s mad at, but it might as well be. He finds himself wanting to break something, but not dishes or glass, just you. 

Wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze till your breath rattles in your chest.

Levi finds you in the living room, standing by the hallway with wide eyes, shrinking against the wall. You thought you could avoid getting his anger taken out on you if he didn’t catch you while you were lounging on the bed. Hoping the man wouldn’t strip you bare and crush your soul like he had so many times before.

He’s so enraged that he can’t even think of the event that provoked him to such a state in the first place.

“Come here.” He stops in his tracks when he sees you, hands flicking to his tie so he can unknot it, loosen it from his neck. It’s not often he gets this angry, warm and burning, filled with emotions that he doesn’t know how to process, doesn’t even really want to.

“Come here.” Levi repeats himself, eyes burning when you still don’t move, as you begin to shake. You’re afraid of him again, good.

You had gotten past that, at least to the point where you could hide your fear of the man. Tamp it down beneath submission and pleasure, because doing what he says meant getting fair treatment.

But you aren’t doing what he says. You’re cowering against the wall, and Levi’s furious. You’re meant to follow his every order, know what he wants you to do before he even has to say, and yet you’re ignoring him as if you had the luxury of making that decision.

His shoes click across the tile as he strides towards you, already unbuckling his pants with sharp movements. When he reaches you, your frightened eyes pleading, the rise and fall of your chest quickening. Levi bets if he checked, your pulse would be fluttering, fast, like a scared little bird.

Your head snaps to the side when his hand connects with it, the sharp sound echoing throughout his home. 

“Take off your pants.” Clothes are a luxury he’s been allowing, but this blatant disobedience when he’s already fuming will result in punishment. 

Trembling hands fly to your pants, and Levi almost wants to laugh at the expression in your face as you turn it back, cheek reddening immediately. You should’ve came when he called you.

He doesn’t bother to take his slacks off all the way, barely pushing them down to his thighs before taking his cock in hand. He’s not even hard, but he needs to fuck something, focus on a different emotion than the fury settled deep in his bones. The satisfaction of how easily you break under his hands, the pleasure of filling you, stretching you past your limit, the way you draw him in like that’s where he belongs, even though it’s obvious you want to be anywhere but with him.

The hand on his cock is too dry, too rough, but that doesn’t matter. Levi’s able to pump himself to hardness as you fumble with your pants, almost falling as you slip them off.

With a quick movement, he’s slamming you hard against the wall, breath punching out of you, head hitting the wall and dazing you.

Levi spits in his hand, takes it between your legs and rubs his saliva where it’s needed. There’s no way you’re wet, no way you’re ready to take him. But if there’s a little blood, there’ll be a little blood. Levi can clean it off your thighs later.

It hurts when he starts pushing inside, the head of his cock breaching your hole far too fast. The crushing realization that he isn’t going to actually prep you is evident across your face, obvious by the panicked little whine that falls from your lips.

“Shut up.” He can’t stop himself from snapping at you, irritated at the noise. 

He’s focused on filling you, the too-tight squeeze around his length and the overwhelming heat of your body where he’s pressed against you. At least you know better than to try and fight him, hands only clutching his shoulders, not trying to push him away, just trying to hold on.

What he would do if you struggled now, Levi doesn’t know. It’s possible he might break something important, push too hard, forget his own strength as he throttles the life out of you.

That reminds him.

The hand not guiding his cock into you rises to your throat, grasps the smooth column tightly, tight enough to feel the ridges of your esophagus, spongey and delicate. If he squeezes a bit harder, Levi wonders if it would collapse, crumbling beneath his fingers like tissue paper.

But your loss would make him inconsolable, so he reigns in his wrathful curiosity, his impulsive side that only sees the sun when he’s furious.

He's fully seated now, pressing deep into your sensitive walls. You’re shaking, trying to hold in your tears, your pitiful noises, your desire to beg him for mercy. There’s no slick feel, other than the slight ease from his saliva, so Levi knows you haven’t torn. 

That eases his mind a bit as he slowly retreats from your hole, intent on making this quicker than it should be. He needs to fuck, hard and fast and maybe just a bit painful. There’s no explainable reason as to why, and Levi isn’t interested in trying to analyze himself at the moment.

So he draws out, pushes back in immediately, doesn’t mind your choked, hiccuped gasp. You’ll adjust soon enough; even as he pushes back in, you’ve started to get wet, and there’s no stink of iron in the air, so it’s your body trying to make this easier for you.

Levi figures it’s good that at least one of you was actually concerned about that.

As the slide becomes easier and easier, his pace picks up accordingly, until he’s swinging his hips in a punishing rhythm. He can’t stop himself from giving a rough press onto your throat, relishing the way your body jerks, already breathless and panicked, now denied air and already missing it.

He’s getting close, which is surprising. Levi thought it might be difficult to reach release, reasoned that he was too focused on the rage filling his veins and weighing him down to lose himself in your body.

But he should’ve know, you always have an effect on him.

Your cunt starts clenching around him, and Levi’s head shoots up from where he’d been watching the steady hammering of his cock into you, glares at your face now.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare.” His tone is clipped, and he’s mad all over again. He doesn’t even know why.

It’s not fair that you’re enjoying this while he’s still simmering, struggling to calm himself. It’s not like he doesn’t want you to find pleasure, but the least you could fucking do is have some decency for once and not cum before he does.

You clench your teeth, grimacing as you try to listen, do your best to obey. He’s trained you well.

But not well enough.

With a pitiful cry, you squeeze tight enough to make Levi groan as he refuses to stop moving his hips. Velvety walls spasm around his length with a vengeance, your nails digging into his shoulders as you lose yourself to the sensation.

Levi’s infuriated.

“You’re not allowed to cum.” He hisses, and your eyes are filled with sorrow, with regret and remorse, with emotions Levi has never bothered to learn the names of.

He slows down, slams into you hard enough that his tip kisses your cervix, makes you lurch in pain that lances through the afterthroes of your orgasm. 

Your throat is abandoned for now, his hand joining his other in painfully clutching your hips, fingers dimpling up your flesh, sinking into the pillowy skin so he can pull you down onto his cock the same moment he thrusts up.

It’s hurting now, your face contorting on each deep thrust. Levi doesn’t care, you were selfish enough to take your pleasure before him, when he so obviously was trying to soothe himself.

He’s starting to get a cramp from how hard and slow he’s driving up into you, but he’s crawling closer and closer, so he ignores the twinge for now.

And then he’s there, bursting from the inside out, uncaring of trying to avoid filling your womb with his seed.

It feels good, good enough to talk him down from the edge of hurting you, of destroying, of raging and bruising and damaging.

Levi’s left panting as he finishes, as his abs clench and unclench while he shoots his sticky finish into your tight hole. You’re still grabbing at his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut at the foreign sensation; Levi usually dons a condom, or at least pulls out. Rarely does he lose himself to do what he just did.

He’s calmer now, feels less like a pacing tiger that's been provoked and prodded until it attacks.

But he finds himself irritated at you, at your audacity.

The man knows he’s being irrational, and that he’s emotional right now, prone to lashing out and striking at anything that dares to defy him. You hadn’t done anything particularly wrong except exist in the same space as a thoroughly pissed-off Levi, and he recognizes that.

But he still wants to see you punished.

So you find yourself on the bed, stripped of your clothes. The only thing you’re wearing is a leather collar, attached to cuffs on your wrists by a thick metal ring. The contraption keeps your hands up by your face, unable to do anything but clench into little fists. It’s almost cute.

Theres a spreader bar cuffed to your ankles, and a vibrator in Levi’s hand. He had cleaned himself as soon as he pulled free of your warmth, not bothering to stop the cum that escaped from the unconscious clench of your hole.

Levi had taken a moment to change out of his work clothes, calm himself further and evaluate everything with a clearer mind. Now dressed in nothing but loose sweats, he felt more at ease, cooler both physically and mentally.

The vibe was flicked on, pressed to your mound at the same time Levi wiggled a finger inside of you, feeling his cum still warmed by your body. It was a weird sensation, but you were wet, and he was focused on the task at hand.

Making eye contact with you, Levi leveled you with a stern look.

“You aren’t allowed to cum.”

Four minutes later, when you crested the edge despite an obvious struggle against it, Levi clenched his jaw, removing the vibe and his finger from rubbing at your walls.

When your eyes opened, Levi met them with a glare.

“You aren’t allowed to cum.”

The vibe was flicked back on, a setting higher this time. Levi shoved two fingers inside of you, and you whimpered in distress. You’d beg if you knew it would sway him, but Levi had forced you enough times for you to know that he followed his own desires.

You were just supposed to lay there and take it.

[opluffys]

Caught- Donquixote Doflamingo x Reader

another from my archive account, luffys. putting it here just cuz i guess. anyway i hope you guys enjoy!

-smut/nsfw-

This was your chance. Your one and only opportunity, it was like a flashing gold sign right in front of you. Seize your chance!

You sighed in discomfort. How long has it been? You honestly stopped keeping track, but due to how sensitive you felt, you knew that it had been a while.

The tap of your heels were no doubt annoying the two grown men seated next to you. They were, however, too focused on the leading mans words, as the number of you were trapped in a meeting.

The way Doflamingo hadn't spoken to end the meeting told you that everyone would be here a long time.

Perfect.

You rose from the leather confines, muttering a polite excuse. When nobody seemed to object, you beelined your way out of that boring lecture, seeing the confused eye of Rosinante settle on you before fully disappearing behind that door.

You unconsciously pumped your fist high, making a small sound of happiness that your ridiculous plan had actually gone to fruition.

You moved your way past the many doors, seemingly lost in a maze on the marble floor. You clicked your tongue when you remembered that your room was at the end. How lucky you were.

You burst inside your chambers, kicking off the dark heels and rushing into the small bathroom, seeing the small scratches visible on the mirror from your last fling.

"I should do something about that..." You hummed, quickly shrugging away any thoughts of the previous man who held you tight.

You bumped your hip against the door, hearing the soft click, affirming that it had closed. Too excited to take any other further precautions, you decided the setting was good enough.

Your available hand scrambled against the sink for purchase, nearly slipping on nothing in pure bliss. You curled your fingers further inside of you, delving deep into your velvety folds.

Muffled gasps and groans continued to fight their way out of you as your fingers pushed farther than you thought possible, causing a louder sound to rip its way out of your tightly sealed lips.

More scandalous moans left your lips, feeling three of your fingers pump in and out of you felt phenomenal. You decided to take it nice and slow, resting against the sink as you began to spread your fingers inside of you, attempting to get a stretching sensation.

Who knew when you could get another chance like this, after all?

After hitting the wall of seemingly no longer caring, your fingers started to ruthlessly thrust inside your dripping core, the liquid spilling onto your spread thighs as if you've come out the shower.

Your eyes were closed, your painted lips slightly agape in pleasure. You could feel that high. You were chasing it for so long, you were right there. Just one more graze from the perfect angle... It was as if you were pushing a large boulder over a hill, you were at the top, about to push the rock over. Your chest heaved with excitement, glee filling your body from the toxins your brain received.

You couldn't move.

You prayed that you were dreaming.

"This is what you skip my meeting for?"

You didn't have a response. You didn't want to respond. You wanted to curl up and become invisible to the entire world right now.

He moved his fingers, and so did you, causing an involuntary moan from your lips after brushing against your swollen clit.

How did you not hear the man coming in? He was a giant for goodness sake! Did you not lock the door, even so, the bathroom door should've been locked as well...

"I expect an answer when I talk to you, (First Name)."

Pink flooded your vision. You didn't want to believe this.

"My apologies, Young Master." You panted, your body still stimulated from your previous actions. "I did not intend for any of this-"

"No, no. We all get urges sometimes." He chuckled, seeing the state of peril you believed to be in. He appeared behind you, your hooded eyes widening at his ridiculous speed.

His tanned digit swiped at your wet folds, eliciting a shameless moan from you. Without warning, he quickly shoved two of his long fingers inside your tight pussy, feeling the way you tightened against him made the man grin wickedly.

You would question what he was doing if you weren't drunk off of your own pleasure, placing your forehead against the counter and just letting your sounds of bliss flow.

"I could give you something better than just my fingers."

Your thighs twitched in excitement, trying to tighten, but with Doflamingo's strings, any movement was impossible.

You couldn't bring yourself to speech, to moving at all, especially when he dared to push his fingers down to his knuckles. Curling them against you.

"Yes." You breathed, you honestly didn't mean to say anything. Somehow the affirmation had slipped out.

How heinous of you it was to see all of the actions being committed from the mirror. A part of you actually enjoyed this, getting attention from Doflamingo himself, what kind of woman doesn't want that? Those bronze abs were just begging to be touched by you. That short blonde hair screaming to be in your vice grip, screaming the mans name behind you without fear.

Doflamingo had zero hesitation, after hearing your breathy plea, he dropped his pants, only leaving the ever-so tight confines of his boxers on.

He dragged his fingers out of you, ignoring your whines of protest. He pulled the briefs down slightly, enough to expose the reddening tip of his desperate member. His cock was leaking giddily, how excited the man felt was not what he portrayed. Little did you care, though. You just wanted to feel full of your own boss, the thought of peeking in the mirror often to see how he reacted within you made you further leak with excitement.

Doflamingo languidly palmed his erection, causing more precum to dribble down his impressive length. He groaned lowly, eliciting an excited whimper from you.

The man behind you was huge, so all you could expect was a large size as well.

"Finish what you had started."

You felt an uncomfortable heat rest on your cheeks. How could you finish pleasuring yourself while your damn boss stood behind you so calmly?

"Young Ma-"

"Do not make me repeat myself."

God, that dangerous undertone of his voice nearly made you finish right then and there. Why couldn't he just shove himself deep inside of you like any other man?

Your shaky hand returned to your slick folds, using your skilled fingers to spread and rub yourself shyly. You bit your lip as to not make much noise, but when you curled your fingers- oh..! You couldn't stop yourself from that sweet moan leaving your mouth.

Making noise was favourable to you, though. With every heavy breath you drew, a shaky exhale left Doflamingo's lips, stroking his painfully hard length with vigour.

"How bad do you want to get fucked?"

"S-So bad..!"

You had no control over yourself, words just came out of your mouth with ease, it was like your cognitive function was completely switched off.

Again, you were so close. Atop that damn mountain with the boulder just barely pushed over the edge. You felt bliss in your fingertips, just brush over that spot one more time, and curl your fingers at the right moment-

You wanted to scream.

So suddenly he had filled you to the brim of his cock, head kissing your womb with every thrust back into you. He was so fucking big, he was splitting you. But oh, did it feel divine.

Incoherent words left your lips, red staining the material of the sink.

"You take me surprisingly well..." He grunted, it seemed as he was enjoying himself more than he had let on...

"I... I thought..! You were in," Your hand flew to your mouth, stopping such a loud and unclear sound, you felt embarrassed hearing that come from you.

"Ah, my meeting. Yes, I was taking charge of it. But it was rather boring, seeing as you had left to do such a devious thing, no?" Doflamingo chuckled, large palm on the soft curve of your ass. He never faltered, not for a moment, such fluid and beautiful thrusts. It's like he knew your body from the inside out, his length just hitting every spot in you that made you go crazy.

You felt delirious, such a big cock breaking and stretching you, you couldn't ask for something better. Groans left Doflamingo's lips as he leaned lower to you, hard abs meeting your back.

Your head turned to the side, seeing the man fucking into you beside you. You couldn't help yourself, you wanted to feel all of him, and it wasn't like the two of you would ever do this again, anyway.

You met him in a sloppy kiss, lips covered slickly and teeth colliding every now and then. It was painfully passionate, kissing while you felt him inside.

His free hand rushed to your sore clit, rubbing harsh circles into it. You broke the kiss and whimpered nothing but affirmations.

All you could comprehend was Doflamingo's huge body ramming into your own, making you see stars. You didn't think about how loud you were, you didn't think how Rosinante's room was right beside yours, you didn't think how you were yelling Doflamingo's nickname, such a thing only close allies could call him.

No, you didn't think of it at all.

All you felt was white hot pleasure while his full lips crashed into yours, his hands were of an expert surgeon, tweaking and pinching all over your body.

Finally you could push that oversized rock over that damned cliff. You felt as if you were free falling from such a high distance, hands running through the creamy clouds.

"Ahh, Doffy..!" You screamed, tightening around him impossibly while bumping your head against the sink, feeling every muscle in your body become useless.

Your juices soaked him, making it easier to slip in and out of you. A strangled groan left him after feeling your soft flesh squeeze him ever so tightly. He couldn't hang on much longer, feeling his high quickly approaching.

Many curses left Doflamingo, quickly unsheathing himself from within your warmth to release thick white ribbons onto your back.

"You should clean yourself up." He said, smiling widely, knowing full well you could no longer walk properly.

A frown settled onto your lips, your eyebrows furrowing. You wanted to turn and glare at him, but alas, after practically having your body wrecked by a huge man, it wasn't possible.

"Ass." You mumbled.

He laughed, amused at your courage to say such a thing to him.

You held on to the edges of the sink to make your way to the shower. It was as if you didn't know how to swim, holding onto the corners of the pool to support you.

You felt an arm support your deadweight, assisting you to the shower.

"Looks like I'll have to help you further." He grinned.

Needless to say, you could no longer walk around as much as you liked for the next week.

[i-cant-sing]

Okay, Moon anon was able to contact me and I'm gonna post their chapters 3-6 here.

Daniel and YN 3 🌗🌗

Rainy days are crazy. Some of YN’s best and worst memories were on a rainy day. It was a rainy day when Daniel was born. His parents overjoyed when he decided to join the world early. The Sunny morning turned rainy when they saw something was wrong. The sky was so dark when the doctored explained that their baby didn’t get enough oxygen in the womb or when he came out. That his brain was impacted by the trauma. It took four years for Daniel’s mother to stop blaming herself, four years for her to understand that she couldn’t have known that something was wrong in her womb. Four years when they had their second child. It was a rainy day when YN and Daniel got lost. Holding each other’s hand, tightly they wandered the Kamino Ward. Hoping that their parents would be right down an alley or around the corner. That was a terrible 6th birthday for YN. The steps Daniel left in the dirt started to get deeper and more burnt. The boy slightly started to tremble. “Daniel.. it’s gonna be ok. Momma and Pop are going to find us we just have to-“ “Are you two lost?” A very tall man in a black suit asked. YN couldn’t remember his face, but his voice was eerily calm and smoothe. His head had snow white hair on it. A look at him would’ve left even the hero All Might scared. “ye…Yes. My brother and I can’t find our parents..” “Oh dear. Well I can help you. They couldn’t have gotten far.” He held his hand to Daniel. And he almost took it had YN not stepped in. “We’re not supposed to touch strangers.” “Oh yes, that’s a very good rule. Well my name is.. Shigaraki. Now what are yours?” “…yn.. and daniel..” “Now we aren’t strangers. Let’s get you two somewhere safe. Your brother’s quirk might level the neighborho-“ “YN! DANIEL!” The relieved voice of their father shouted out. And the two quickly turned away, toward his calls and open arms. Tears running down their faces, swearing to never wander off again. The day was saved. When YN went to turn to Mr Shigaraki to tell him it was fine, he had disappeared into the crowd. But one question lingered in her head. How did he know Daniel’s quirk could be dangerous? It was a sunny day at first when YN and Daniel went out to the park for their Day out. YN had already planned to tell her parents that she wanted to come back here for her 12th birthday in a few months. Daniel kept over-stimulating himself with every single thing that caught his eyes. The anthill, the trees, the way the wind carried the leaves, when he and YN jumped around over the hopscotch drawings. When the rain came down they didn’t want to leave. They wanted to splash in the wetness like a couple of ducks. But Momma was insistent it was time to go back to the apartment. Inside the car YN immediately put on her headphones to listen to nightcore covers of popular songs. It wasn’t until she noticed her mom’s terrified expression and felt her dad’s fear did she take them off. “-I DONT KNOW ITS NOT BREAKING!” “WE’RE GOING RIGHT INTO TRAFFIC! DO SOMETHING!” “..momma?..” “DANIEL! YN GET DOWN!” That was the last thing her mother said to her. The rain hit the car harder. Daniel was quick to cover his little sister as the car swerved towards a large truck. YN felt her brother shield over their bodies. The last thing she heard from her father was a yell. Before they crashed into the truck. Before YN and Daniel were flung out into the side of the road. Scratches beginning to litter their arms and cheeks. YN felt the rain on her face as she tried looking up. Tried finding her parents. It was a rainy day when the last image of her parents was the crushed front end of the car. 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN 4 🌗🌗

The incident at the cafe left a bigger mess then was intended. Of course the waitress didn’t say a word about who caused the mess, still terrified of the threat, but the manager still called the police. At the moment it was being investigated as a break in. It wasn’t until they started to bag the broken vases as evidence did they think to call a hero as they believed this was a terrorist villain trying to strike more fear. When the first cop touch the broken vases he immediately fell over and started seizing. Like someone had sent hundreds of volts up through his gloved fingers and into his blood stream. The second cop tried picking up the glass with prongs so that she wouldn’t get the same effect. But she still felt some pain and volts. Even the glass windows were giving off static. When they were examined no one could find a point of impact. It was almost like they spontaneously exploded. Worse and more confusing yet was the fact that the material seemed to give off radiation spikes. From a computer screen image, it was like a red glow was emanated from the glass. When the police tried to check the cameras, all the footage was either ruined, too melted to gather anything. It left them in a stump. So they had to make a plea to the hero society to get fresh eyes and help on the case. Not expecting any big response. Some heroes wanted to solve the mystery because it stumped them as well. This quirk residue was something unseen before. Calls and emails were left. All saying they would look into it. And it seemed like this would just be a mysterious case left forgotten. That is until the All Might showed up in the station one morning. Along with his protege Deku. They said they wanted to solve the case because if this person left such a dangerous residue after using their quirk, then they were a danger to themselves and others. No on saw the real intentions in their eyes. When they asked about the only other patron in the cafe the police said that they tried tracking them down, but they were gone into the wind. The only other patron at the cafe made their way into a compound. Holding treats meant for a little girl. But first he had to make a stop at his boss’s office. “Hey.. Kai. You won’t believe what Just saw.” Meanwhile in the station two separate rats made calls to two separate people. “Put me through to Shigaraki…. Hello. I have something interesting to tell you. Something that might please you and your Sensei.” “Oh hey there Aizawa. Detective Tsukauchi here. Look I you know about that cafe destruction a week ago? Yea well I think you outta here about this.” Indeed the cafe incident left a bigger mess than intended. 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN part 5 🌗🌗

They’d been gone for at least two months. YN’s feet hurt and Daniel missed his own bed. But they had to keep going, with no intended final destination but a goal to keep away from the previous home they ran from. After the morning at the cafe, YN and Daniel had kept to the shadows for the rest of the day. But they couldn’t keep going like this. They needed to eat today but not at a restaurant. There was only one dreaded… dreaded option. The grocery store. So after they checked in at the latest motel with kitchens in the rooms, the siblings ventured off to the store.YN couldn’t leave Daniel alone yet. He’d panic and probably have a fit. The store was minimally packed. Since it was still early in the day it seemed like they would zip in and out with relative ease. After grabbing the bare essentials, and what she could pack in a backpack without much drag, it was time to go to the candy aisle. It was a long journey thus far, a journey deserving of some sour candies. But of course there had to be another person there. Invading space and looking right at her favorites. She wanted to just grab and go. But her hand and the stranger's hand touched as they reached for the same one. “Sorry. I should’ve watched where I was going heh..” The tall redhead said. A small blush on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine. Lemme just grab and go here.” She looked back for Daniel, luckily he was close by staring at the varieties of pocky they had. Turning back she noticed his uniform. UA, that might prove to be a complication. But YN was desperate for some kind words and a brief moment to talk to someone her own age. “So you go to UA? Are you a general student or a hero course student?” “Oh hero course definitely! I even have my hero name chosen!” “Wow that’s great. I hope in a few years I get to be saved by…?” “Red Riot!” “Like Crimson Riot?” “Exactly! I really admire him and I hope I live up to his-“ “OI SH**TY HAIR! WE’RE GONNA BE LATE! GRAB YOUR CRAP AND LET’S GO!” A blonde kid shouted down the aisle, also wearing a UA outfit. YN couldn’t place why but she felt like she’d known him before. That volume felt very familiar, but it startled her brother who jumped in fear causing the pocky he saw to fall off the shelving. Time to go now. “I should go anyway. It was nice meeting you.” “Wait, we could walk you and your brother to your school if you guys want?” “We have to go.” The blonde got closer and she could tell something was perpetually up his ass. “Bye.” “Wait! My name’s Eijiro Kirishima. What’s yours?” “YN. Just YN. That’s my brother Daniel.” And before he or his companion could ask anything else the two siblings fast walked toward the checkout and were out the door before they got another chance to talk to them. “YN… huh she was pretty cool right bakubro!” “What ever. Let’s get going before we show up after Deku.” But that name was familiar to him. The girl had long since faded from his mind, but how could anyone forget the day when a quirkless kid tried bashing your head into the dirt. He planned on apologizing the next day for his comments but she was gone. Gone and almost forgotten. It could be possible that this was just someone who shared the same name. But maybe.. possibly.. the universe was giving him the chance to apologize. “YN.” 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN part 6 🌗🌗

YN never really liked her neighbors. She never outright loathed them, but she was uncomfortable with how Inko kept trying to be her mother, and how Izuku had this strange obsessive stare when he looked at her. As long as they stayed in their apartment and never bothered them it would all be fine. But their parents couldn’t watch them all the time. So on days when momma and pop went out Miss Midoryia would graciously watch them. YN never liked pity. So when Miss Midoryia tried to pity and feel sorry about YN’s quirkless status, that just made her dig her heels in longer. She didn’t need people to fuss over her like she was a glass doll. At least with Izuku she could’ve had a companion. She did try to get along with him. But he was so weird. Just because they both were quirkless didn’t mean they’d would be close. “So why are you homeschooled?” “I get into fights.” “Why?” “Because people are mean and they think they’ll have no consequences to their words. I proved them wrong.” “Were they mean because you’re quirkless or because Daniel is… different?” Now obviously he didn’t mean any harm by that. But an emotional 10 year old girl is not someone to mess with. So with a sharp glare to his face the conversation quickly died. In the dining room, Daniel would usually be coloring. Or playing with his legos. Something to stim and distract his mind. Sometimes he’d just pull out a old painting his dad got him, and he’d spend hours looking at the strokes and would mentally add a new feature. Twirling the hair on his head whilst sucking/biting his thumb. “Daniel? Would you like some water?” “No miss. I want momma.” “I know sweetie but she won’t be gone forever. And you call me Inko” Though she’d prefer him to call her something more affectionate. Throughout the night Inko kept trying to mother them. She hovered over YN’s neck and tried petting her head which resulted in a swipe from the little girl. By the time YN’s parents got back, she was relieved and spent the rest of the night complaining to her mom about how she didn’t want to go over to the neighbors anymore and how she felt uncomfortable. Across the hall the two greenettes were enamored with the two kids. Inko adored how sweet Daniel was, how shy he looked to her. Izuku was star struck at this girl without a quirk who was so quick to fight against the norms put in place by a society against them. They'd soon make it a habit to try to talk to the family in the hall, or bump into them on the street. One day, after the family had been gone for a couple weeks, they saw the two with several police officers and a social worker packing away all their belongings. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something terrible had happened. When Inko offered to watch them, the social worker confirmed the worst and took the children away. Three weeks later, as her son was at school Inko kept trying to find the legal way for her to gain custody of the kids when her door was knocked. Her husband, AFO, on the other side. She tried telling him to go away. Tried saying that he had no part in Izuku’s life anymore. But he had a bigger role than known. “How can you be so cruel my love? Especially now that I’ve opened the door for you to gain what you want?” “What do you mean?” “I’ll help you gain custody of the two children you are craving. I happen to have a fascination with them as well.” “I can’t ever guarantee that we’ll be a whole family ever again.” “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to. But let’s try something for now.” So Inko made a deal with the devil, to gain two angels. 🌗🌗

Now that AFO is in the story, I'm like so excited! Great work, Moon anon!

[collecting-stories]

One Sunset - c. 08 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Your birthday keeps getting closer.

A/N: Two more chapters to go! 

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ Oh, my love, she waits, so long overdue ✰

The baby, Hope, the youngest, so far, of your sister’s six children, was propped on your hip. Clingy, she pressed her face against your collar, head tucked in your neck as you bounced just slightly from foot to foot. She‘s been crying when Esther handed her off, a passing comment that “there was something different about you” as she rejoined the conversation your older siblings were having. You carried Hope outside when the fussing started again, threatening to interrupt your father’s reading from the bible before dinner. She wasn’t the youngest of all the babies there, Jubilee’s son took that honor, being just three months, but Hope was the most restless.  

“You used to be like that,” your mother teased, coming out to bring you a bottle for Hope as she squirmed in your lap. You’d settled with sitting under the tree in the yard, letting your niece tear through the grass.  

“Destructive?” You asked, looking up through the sunlight to her.  

Ever since JJ had mentioned the possibility of leaving you had been thinking about what it would look like when you were gone. Knowing what was in store if you stayed, you had given leaving your mom and dad a lot of thought anyway. It would be just them in the house, plenty of grandchildren to take care of but just the two of them at night when everyone else went home. You would miss it, but it was these moments, so rare now that you were the last left in the house, that you would miss most of all.  

“Restless, unsatisfied.” The adjective stung when she said it, as if she resented the trait even in a baby. “The minute you were steady on your feet, you used to take off.”  

“Maybe I was just curious about everything around me?” You suggested, that bizarre fear that she knew something settling in your stomach. It was the same queasy feeling you used to get when you were little and you would lie, certain your mother would know.  

She nodded, though it was not in agreement, “and what does the bible say about that?”

“And he said unto them, it is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the father hath put in his own power.” You replied, all too familiar with the warning verse that your mother had kept taped to your bedroom mirror as a child, a reminder that your curiosity was as much a sin as anything else.  

“That’s right, we don’t need to concern ourselves with other, worldly things.” She replied.  

“I don’t think Hope is concerned with anything other than appreciating God’s creation,” you joked, an attempt to lighten the mood, as you looked down at Hope sill pulling at the grass and then staring in wonder at her dirty hands.  

“I’m not talking about Hope, I found a…very revealing outfit tucked under your bed along with a sweatshirt I’ve never seen in the house before.” She said, playing her cards. She did know something she wasn’t letting on, just as you had suspected. It was better than you thought, something you could play off easily.  

“They’re Kiara’s. She wore the dress on Sunday and I told her it was too revealing for church so she came in and changed. And the sweatshirt is her…boyfriend’s, she had it with her.” You lied. The dress was the one that JJ bought for you. For almost three weeks, since he’d first suggested it, you had been packing and unpacking a duffel bag, certain that you wanted to go but then unsure at the same time.  

Your mother’s observation of you was probably right, you were restless. They had raised you the same way they raised your siblings and yet, nothing about the church seemed to comfort you. It made you discontent just exist in the space sometimes but you had always assumed it was because of some deep fault of your own. Some sin you weren’t consciously aware of that ensnared you. Restlessness would follow you forever, it felt like. But then you’d never felt restless with JJ or Kiara or Pope. You never felt like you were trying to fit into something that wasn’t made for you.  

“I didn’t realize she had a boyfriend.” The tone was back, the disapproving one that silently conveyed the underlying meaning of her sentence. If your mom had known, she would not have let her hang around.  

“He’s very religious too. I think he goes to a non-denominational church,” you lied, pulling Hope’s dirty hands away from the hem of your dress.  

You had come outside with Hope because you wanted to be alone. Her crying was the perfect excuse to separate yourself from the rest of your family but then your mom had followed you out here, determined, it felt like, to deny you any moment alone.

“Your good with the kids,” she ventured, “It’ll only be a couple of years before you’re having little ones of your own.”  

“That’s what Esther said when she handed me Hope.” You replied lifting the baby with you as you stood up. There was no point in trying to hold onto your attempts at relaxation. Babies had been all your mother wanted to talk about since Timothy’s visit to the house. She couldn’t stop herself from mentioning your future imaginary family. “How did you and dad know you wanted to have kids?”

“We prayed and fasted and the Lord answered us by giving us Faith and I knew then that he was telling me to leave my womb in his hands.” She replied as you fought the urge to roll your eyes at the response, “How many kids you have is something you’ll have to talk about with Timothy but God will guide you.”  

“Yeah, I guess so.” You shifted Hope in your arms as she babbled, her dirty hands gripping your cardigan.  

Maybe JJ lying to you should have been the push that you needed to embrace this idea of Timothy and Zambia and the twelve children he was probably going to expect you to have. It should’ve put you back on the path of the Lord, that “most righteous” path, as your father called it during Sunday service. But you couldn’t bring yourself to just close off the part of you that loved JJ so much that you considered running away with him. He had lied but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that all of it was a lie. There were parts of it, you were certain, that had to be true. You had been thinking about him since you left John B’s.  

“What if...” you chanced, beginning to walk back to the house with your mom, “what if Timothy isn’t who I’m meant to be with?”

“Why do you say that?” Your mom asked, stopping. She didn’t look surprised or even bothered by what you thought sounded like your usual restlessness.  

“I just think...what if I’m not a good enough wife?”

“You have to pray, and have faith in the Lord and in your husband that they will guide you down that path and help you to learn how to serve your household.” She answered.  

Hope started fussing again and your mom took her from you, proclaiming that it was most likely time for a feeding and heading back inside with her. She called over her shoulder for you to check the church, the light in the nave was on. You wanted to thank her for the moment alone but then she might’ve stuck around and questioned you further.

You walked to the church, pulling the old wooden door open and heading inside to turn off the lights in the vestibule. Your father was known to forget and leave them on and you were sure that your mother thought sending you was some subtle way of telling you that you needed to reconnect with Jesus through prayer. You weren’t so sure that was what you needed but you would take the moment alone that you had been trying to get the first time you went outside.  

Before you could hit the light switch you noticed the familiar army green backpack leaning against one of the back pews. You hadn’t seen JJ since you left John B’s house but that was his backpack, sitting in the middle aisle. There wasn’t any reason for JJ’s bag to be in the church but you walked toward it anyway, curious as to its existence in that space at that moment.  

The bag, you quickly discovered, was not without its owner. JJ laid there on the bench, asleep, from what you could tell, his lip split and a horrifying bruise under his left eye. You knelt down by the edge of the pew, brushing his hair away from his face so you could see him better. Just the sight of him had your heart pounding.

“Oh my god, JJ,” you whispered, laying your hand on his arm. “JJ.”

He groaned, shifting on the pew before opening his eyes slowly, a smile gracing his features as he saw you there in front of him, the cut on his lip bleeding slightly at the motion. “Hey Ace.”

“JJ, what happened?” You asked, moving to sit next to him as he sat up. Maybe you should have been more apprehensive with him, considering what John B had told you, but all you could think about was the bruising on his face. You’d seen less noticeable bruising before that JJ had always brushed off and maybe it was unrelated but your mind was drawing connections as you looked him over, noting the large purplish mark peeking out from the arm of the cut-off shirt he was wearing.  

“Nothing,” he swore, shaking his head and shifting away from you slightly. “I’m sorry, I just needed to crash for a few hours.”  

When you reached for him again and he moved back, you felt an ache. He looked battered and you didn’t care about what sort of bet he made, all you wanted to do was hold him and tell him that for the last few days you had been thinking about him. “JJ, please, tell me what happened?” you asked, taking his hand in yours before he could stop you.  

“I fucked up everything.” He replied, leaning back against the pew and closing his eyes. “I didn’t...I should’ve told you about-”

-

Despite Pope’s attempts to reason with him, to remind him that the last person on earth you probably wanted to see was him, JJ couldn’t stop himself from moving forward with his original plan. He had offered you a way out and, whether you wanted it with him or at all, he was going to come through on that promise. He loved you and maybe it was selfish but he couldn’t stand the thought of you going to Tennessee.  

JJ almost never went home but he did a few nights after you had run off, after Kiara told him that you’d come to see her, he went back home again to get the keys for his dad’s boat. Luke always kept the keys on him and JJ hadn’t actually been on the boat since he was a little kid. The first time he had smoked weed when he was twelve and his cousin took him on the Phantom for a joy ride down the coast to buy some specially cut stuff from a friend of a friend. He had let JJ smoke it on the way home and the probably broken rib that he’d suffered the week before suddenly didn’t hurt half as bad.  

He wasn’t stealing the keys for a joyride this time though. He was stealing keys to get you as far away from the Outer Banks as he could. Pope had reasoned that you hadn’t really ever made up your mind and that by now you had probably definitely decided not to go off with some guy on a whim, but JJ had to believe you were still leaning toward going with him.  

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up.” Luke chided, sitting at his work bench. If there was anything that JJ knew about his father, it was that Luke could sit in front of his work table all day and nothing would ever actually get done.  

“I’m only here to grab some stuff.”  

If he said nothing, it caused an issue. If he said something, it caused an issue. JJ had spent enough years in his father’s home to know that it didn’t matter what he did, if Luke was in a mood then there was nothing, he could do to avoid it. And usually, he would just make his visit a short one but he needed that key and that key was hanging off his dad’s neck.  

It took Luke a couple beers and a trip down to Barry’s trailer before he confronted JJ’s return home with more than a snide remark. It started off with shouting about the electric bill when he tried to hit the light switch in the living room and realized that the darkness was unescapable. And that, of course, like all the other bad things that existed in his life, was JJ’s fault.  

“How many fucking times I gotta tell you to do something before you actually do it?” He screamed, a string of insults following that would stay trapped in JJ’s head for what would arguably be the rest of his life. The rage was just what JJ needed though, his dad was erratic, distracted, and close enough that when he shoved JJ against the wall and tried to choke him, the key was in reach.  

He had the key and when he finally got his dad off him, he ran for the door, grabbing his bag and running through the woods. Still not talking to John B, he knew there weren’t too many places for him to go. He stayed on the beach for a while but then moved on, heading to the one place he knew he wasn’t technically welcome. JJ had seen your family’s cars in the yard and had ducked into the church, falling asleep on one of the pews.  

It wasn’t like you could’ve contacted him, you had no phone and you couldn’t exactly get away easily during the day and maybe that was what made it so easy for him to convince himself that he wasn’t beyond forgiveness. He needed to talk to you, had wanted to for days now. He needed to explain things to you, make you understand that he did love you and the bet was stupid, a mistake that he wanted to take back more than anything in the world.  

-

“JJ, I don’t care about any of that right now,” you said, brushing hair away from his face. “What happened?”

He sat up a little, pulling the makeshift necklace out beneath his shirt, the keys to the Phantom hanging there around his neck. “I got the keys.” He replied, “I don’t know if you even would still want to go, but I got the keys.”  

“Is that how this happened?” You asked, eyes still on his bruised face and not the keys he was holding up.  

“It doesn’t matter-”

You cut him off, “it does matter, JJ-”

“No.” He insisted, “no, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to base anything on feeling bad for me.” JJ had spent his whole life trying to make sure that nobody felt bad for him. Sympathy, charity, pity, it was all just fake and he hated it. He did everything he could to be sure that no one ever knew what kind of father Luke was because he never wanted them to look at him like he was broken.  

“I don’t want you to hurt.” You admitted, kissing his cheek.  

JJ didn’t protest the affection, though he wanted to laugh. Here he was with you worrying about him, telling him that you didn’t want to see him hurt while he had hurt you. For days he felt like he had been plagued by that moment, replaying the way you looked at him when you asked him if John B was telling the truth. Kiara told him to give you space and Pope told him to take things slowly but all he wanted was to be with you again, to make everything right.  

“You shouldn’t even want to talk to me right now.” He said, rubbing his hands over his eyes.  

“My propensity for forgiveness might surprise you.” You teased, then shrugged, “I don’t think that you lied to me about...about being in love with me,” you chewed on your bottom lip as you spoke, “I mean, I hope not-”

“I wasn’t.” JJ replied. “If Sarah hadn’t bet me to ask you out, I wouldn’t have, but everything else was real. I know I should’ve told you...I just, didn’t want you to look at me the way you did after John B told you. Everyone else already looks at me that way, I didn’t want you to. I’m so sorry.” It seemed like the only logical thing to say to you.  

The door to the chapel creaked open and JJ slid down to the floor as you stood up, moving down the aisle to keep whoever it was out of the church. Your dad stood there at the entrance, holding the door open with his foot as he caught sight of you. “There you are, your mom sent me out to find you, she said she asked you to turn the lights out here.”

“I was,” you replied, moving closer to him, “I just, stopped for a moment to sit in prayer.” An easy lie, one your parents were always all too willing to believe.  

He nodded, “do you need another moment? Some fellowship?”  

“No, no, I’m okay.” You promised. “I’ll be right there.”

The door swung shut behind him as he stepped back out of the church. You knew he’d be just on the other side of the door, waiting for you to turn off the lights and follow him in for dinner. Knowing the limited amount of time you had, you ran back down the aisle to where JJ was just standing up.  

JJ’s eyes went wide as you grabbed his collar and quickly pulled him into a kiss, “I have dinner with my family, come to my room tonight?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “yeah okay.”

As you left him you flicked the lights casting him in darkness as he dropped back down onto the bench, a small smile etched on his face. He’d come to the church because he needed to be close to you, especially after his encounter with Luke. But JJ had honestly thought that things between you were irreparable. Knowing they weren’t felt better than he could’ve imagined. Like he was floating above clouds. Stupid to think maybe but he didn’t care.  

-

JJ’s muscles tensed as you traced your fingers beneath a nasty purple bruise that stretched across his stomach to his side. You leaned over him, hovering like a ghost in the stillness, and placed a kiss just over the discolored skin, eliciting goosebumps over his skin.  

He stayed camped out in the chapel until the lights went off in the house and your family left for the night. There were too many smaller units these days to accommodate everyone when they came home to visit but your father was friends with a local motel owner who always gave him a good deal. JJ had tried to stay alert and awake but he’d fallen asleep, getting up later when the lights were off and sneaking across the yard to your window, knocking and hoping that you answered. That you meant it when you said you still believed he loved you.  

Your parents were asleep down the hall from your room and he knew that trying anything would be risky and dangerous but being back in your room again since the last time, since he’d slept with you, it was almost as if a switch went off for both of you. He climbed through the window and was already grabbing at your waist, pulling you into a kiss as you led him to your bed.  

He breathed out apologies and “I love you’s” between kisses, making sure that he took every opportunity to remind you both how sorry he was and how much he had missed being close to you in the few days apart. JJ had tried to tell himself that if you chose to stay with your family, he would be okay and understanding and he would force himself to be but he knew that he was lying to himself, if things ended between the two of you, he wasn’t sure how he would cope. Maybe that was unhealthy but he really didn’t care at all.  

“I was thinking, we could go to Florida,” you said, keeping your voice down as you sat on the bed, JJ’s shirt keeping you warm. He was laying on his back, covers pushed down to his waist, one hand behind his head and the other resting on your thigh.  

“Why Florida?” He asked.  

In all honesty it wasn’t that Florida was anything particularly special it was just that you were trying your hardest to think of anything to say so you didn’t start crying. When you’d seen him in the church earlier you had almost lost it and that was with only his face visible. The bruising on his stomach and sides made you feel ill. “I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to go to South Beach.”  

JJ grinned, hand squeezing your thigh, “you on a topless beach? Yes, please.”

“How about I conquer a two piece before I attempt going topless?” You joked, taking his hand in yours.  

“I don’t know, you look pretty hot...” he said, moving his other hand from behind his head and grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it up passed your chest. You swatted his hand away, stifling a laugh. The sound of it made him smile though it didn’t quite meet his eyes, that flicker of sadness still there behind them. There was nothing he wanted more than being here with you but he couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling of guilt that settled in.  

“What’s the matter?” You asked, registering the change in his demeanor before he was even fully aware of it himself.  

“Nothing, I-” he sighed, shifting around to sit up in bed, “I should have told you. About the bet, about my dad. I just...I know, under the surface, I’m not the most likable person. I’m loud and I smoke too much and I drink too much and I’m not that smart and I just...really wanted you to like me. So I didn’t say anything. And I know that’s not an excuse-”

“JJ,” you cut him off, “I was mad that you lied and didn’t tell me about the bet but that doesn’t change the way that I feel about you. And it doesn’t change the way I know you feel about me.” It was hard to explain, it had been hard to explain to Kiara when you had shown up crying at her house, but you didn’t think that JJ was lying to you about the whole of your relationship. He said he loved you and you believed him, there wasn’t a single moment that felt unreal to you in that sense, whether he had asked you out because of a bet or not. “You said you only asked me out because of the bet but everything else was real and I believe you.”

“I don’t deserve the benefit of the doubt.”  

“Stop trying to sell yourself short.” You replied, leaning forward to kiss him, “it won’t work.”

Before he could answer you, the floor creaked and the you both looked toward the door as footsteps sounded down the hall. The light by your desk was still on and the footsteps came to a stop outside your bedroom door, a knock sounding, followed by your dad’s voice. “Ace, you awake in there?”  

You pulled JJ’s shirt off, grabbing your nightdress and putting it on as you got off the bed and went over to the door. “Yeah, hold on!” You were thankful that the door opened in, obscuring the twin bed from view. “Sorry, I was having trouble sleeping so I was just up reading some verses.” You lied.  

“Hmm,” your dad nodded, easily convinced, “what were you reading?”

“1st Peter, 4...uh, ‘and above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.’ Just felt like something I really needed tonight.” You replied.  

“That is a good one,” he contemplated, “I told your mom I’ve been a little stuck on the sermon for this coming weekend...it’s a big one, with Timothy’s family visiting and your birthday. But maybe I’ll put some focus on that verse, see if the Lord speaks to me about it.”  

“I’ll pray on it as well,” you promised, twisting the doorknob in your hand as you waited for your father to decide to head back to bed.  

“I’m just grabbing some water, do you need anything?” He asked, looking toward the kitchen.  

“No, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you replied, stepping forward to give him a hug, “love you, see you in the morning.”

“Love you too Ace,” he said, leaving you and heading to the kitchen.  

You shut the door to your room, blocking out the rest of the world again and nearly jumping when you turned and found JJ standing right there beside you. “My dad could’ve seen you,” you whispered, pushing him away when he tried to wrap his arms around you.  

“He didn’t.” JJ replied, voice low. His hand darted out from his side, grabbing the front of your nightdress before you could get away, using the leverage it gave him to pull you back to the bed. He flicked the light off on your desk lamp on the way to the bed, sitting when the back of his knees hit the mattress.  

“What are you doing?” you asked when he started to pull the nightdress over your head again.  

“Undressing you.”  

“JJ,” you fought a smile, biting your bottom lip, “you need to go...that was way too close.”  

He pouted in the dark, letting your nightdress fall back into place as he laid his hands on your hips. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I can walk to Heyward’s in the afternoon?” You offered. “Timothy and his family will be here on Wednesday...”

“When’s the party?” He asked, trying not to let himself dwell on the actual question, were you staying or were you going?  

“Saturday evening...I don’t know what to do.” You admitted. It was leaving home either way but one of those included the possibility of never speaking to your family again.  

“It’s your decision. I love you, either way.” JJ promised.  

-

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[aka-indulgence]

Midnight Kicks

Commission for @xxtyraxesxxlove​!

Of their and their friends OCs :>

Domestic fluff with pregnancy!

Lynn wakes up one night to her twins getting active in her belly. Crimson helps soothe her back to sleep.

----

Lynn whined a little as she woke up, blinking to see that it was still very much dark, and she was awake way earlier than she should’ve had.

She would complain that she woke up for no reason, but that would be a lie. She has an idea about why she’s woken up, and she doesn’t have to check for much to know that she’s right; it’s been happening more often lately.

Lynn puts a hand over her belly and rubs it a bit. She could feel her twins moving around in her, restless.

One of them must’ve kneed her in the womb because she jumps a little at the brush of something, not quite a kick, but close enough that it pulls a reaction out of her.

She feels so heavy now… she remembers when they first started developing, how she wouldn’t have noticed that she was pregnant if she didn’t feel a little more squeamish and weaker than usual. Now, she didn’t even have to move; she feels heavy all the time. Having one baby would probably be enough to make her feel that, but she has two.

Lynn’s pulled out of her thoughts when she feels shifting beside her, and when she looks to the side she sees Crimson blinking open a socket, his eyelights lighting up in the dark.

“Hey baby.” he smiles, his voice more gravelly from sleep. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to rest over her distended belly. “How ya doing?”

Lynn smiles back at the man she loves so much, and leans a little towards him (as much as she can with her swollen middle.

“I’m ok.” she answers, though she cringes a little when the babies move around a bit.

Crimson chuckles and pulls himself a bit closer so that he’s pressing a little to his mate, reaching his free hand out to touch her face, thumbing her cheek.

“It’s the kids ain’t it?” Crimson clicks his tongue humorously, “sorry babygirl, that probably came from me.”

Lynn leans in a little more into Crimson’s hand, sighing at the warmth and attention. “They’re just a bit active, that’s all.”

“Mhm. Rowdy kids, I’ll bet.” Crimson’s eyelights drift down towards her midriff. His eyesocket lids and he grins fondly, as if he could see through her belly.

Lynn jumps a little and Crimson almost flinches when an especially strong kick hit the outer walls of her womb, making a little bump under Crimson’s palm.

Lynn whines, even as it turns into a weak giggle. “Maybe a little.”

“Strong ain’t they? Here let me help you out.” Crimson offers, though Lynn knows he’s making a statement rather than asking a question.

She can feel his distinct magic washing over her stomach in waves, and even from just feeling him she can feel herself relax and be soothed. The movement inside her also slows down, and as Crimson rubs his hand up and down her skin, they eventually stop.

Crimson slowly lets go of his magic and leans his skull into her, pressing a little to her neck. He’s so happy he could make… life, with this wonderful woman. Feeling the twin’s souls in his mate’s womb makes him feel happier than he already was when it was just him and her- and he was already very happy just to be with her.

“Heh… I think they went to sleep.” He sighs a little.

Lynn glances over to him and giggles a little. “Yeah, thanks… you silly bonehead.”

She reaches with her hand and wipes the sweat off his skull, and she can see Crimson turning… well, crimson, from the act.

“You used too much magic again.”

… “So I did.”

Lynn laughs again and tucks in closer to him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “It’s time for you to sleep too.”

Lynn can’t quite get over the giddy feeling whenever Crimson closes his arms around her and snuggles closer to her. “Yeah… we all should. Sleep well babygirl, I love you.”

Lynn smiles.

“I love you too.”

She feels so lucky. Even after everything, they both could end up here in each other’s arms. A happy family already.

And soon enough, their family’s just going to get bigger.

[holylulusworld]

Desperate Souls (1)

Summary: Sam calls for company and get’s much more than expected.

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x Escort!Reader

Warnings: angst, shy reader, smut, unprotected sex, soulless Sam (cause he’s a fucking warning!), fingering, dirty talk, shower sex, talking about prostitution, possessive soulless Sam, a hint of violence

Kinktober Special: Sex for money

Kinktober Specials

Your heart pounds in your chest. Throat dry, hands shaking you knock at the door of your client. His voice deep and gruff he orders you to enter the room.

The knot in your stomach tightens when you enter the room seeing a tall man smirking at you. His blue jeans hang low at his hips. Chest bare, just like his feet he shows off his chiseled torso, defined abs and a rock-hard cock straining against his pants.

“Come in, strip…” He orders and you gulp, glancing at the floor. “Gosh, I told them I don’t want the shy school-girl number,” Sam mutters striding toward you, lifting your chin with his index finger.

His hazel eyes seem to bore into your soul as his intense gaze makes your knees buckle. “Shit, this isn’t a role you are playing. You really are shy, princess.” The smirk is back, and Sam leans close, sniffing at your hair.

“I…I’m sorry.” You choke out, hands playing with the seam of your dress. “This is the first time I’m doing this…” Voice barely audible you glance up at the freaking tall man.

“Sex or offering your sexy body for money?” Sam rasps. His large hands slide over your arms, stopping at your upper arms, gripping you tightly.

“Offering my body for money.” You whisper looking away, ashamed. “I can call the service for a better girl. I understand you want someone more experienced…”

“No…I think I’d like to have a taste of you. Hmm…I can almost smell your arousal. Does offering your body for money turn you on, dirty girl?” Sam whispers in your ear and you start to shiver. “I want to fuck you deep and hard on this bed. Maybe for more than once. Can you take me?”

Sam let go of you to circle you like his prey. Your body goes stiff the moment you feel his body pressed against your back, and his erection pressing against your butt. “Do you want to do this? I will pay you well, maybe even with one or two orgasms, Baby.”

One rough hand moves down your thigh, dangerously creeping close to your mound. Sam’s hot breath is in your neck, he grunts as you wiggle in his grip. “Relax. You’re going to like it. What’s your name, Baby?”

“Y/N…shit…I told you my real name. Don’t tell my boss. He wanted me to call myself Candie…”

“I prefer Y/N.” The tall man grunts as he cups your mound, pressing his index finger hard down your clit. You moan feeling him playing with your little nub. “You’re so wet for me. Did you play with this pretty pussy before you came here?”

“Noooo…” You stutter, gasping when he moves his hand into your panties now slipping two fingers into you. He’s burying his face into your hair groaning. “Such a tight little cunt. How many guys did you fuck?”

“Two…” The word choked out you spread your legs wider, letting the man behind you finger fucking you. You want to feel ashamed, embarrassed to enjoy having sex for money but he brushes over all the right spots, letting the fire spread through your core.

“I’m Sam. I want you to scream my name when you cum. But…” He chuckles, retreating his fingers. “…only on my cock. Strip, leave your panties on. I want you to bend over the desk over there.” Sam orders and you nod, slowly stripping your clothes off.

There’s a rumble leaving his chest glancing at your naked form. You dare not to look over your shoulder so you lean over the desk, waiting for Sam to have his way with you.

You don’t need to wait for long as he kicks your legs apart, sliding your panties down with one aggressive move.

“You know…” Sam groans. “You should be way more careful. While you undressed and bend over I locked the door. You told me your real name and now…” He opens his pants, letting his heavy and hard cock fall against your ass. “I’m going to fuck you bare.”

His words full of threats he presses one meaty palm against your lower back before you can scramble away. The tip slips into you and he did not lie. He is pressing into you without protection.

“Sam…not without…protection.” You squeak feeling the tall man spreading you out like no one before. His girth is almost too much to handle. Gasps leave your lips as he pulls slowly out to slam back into you till he’s bottomed out.

“Hmm…look, you are taking me like a pro. I think I will teach you one or two things tonight.” His eyes roam your body while he waits for you to adjust to his size.

“Sam…you need to pull out…”

Sam is deaf to your arguments. He rather gropes your breasts, rolling your nipples between skilled fingers. “I’m gonna come deep inside of you. Make you feel my cock filling you up. I want you covered in my spunk.” Sam growls.

“I…”

Sam starts moving his hips. Fast and hard he pounds into you without holding back. He enjoys the way your pussy stretches over his cock, almost clinging to his thick shaft.

“You like that? Do you like being fucked by me?” Sam growls behind you, grabbing your thighs roughly as he starts pumping harder into you. “You feel so good wrapped around me.”

“Sam…”

Gasping, grabbing the edge of the desk you push back onto him, moving in sync with the tall man railing you. He’s relentless, rough and almost too hard to handle but still he tries to make you feel good.

The way he moves inside of you is determined to hit the right spots, one hand slips between your legs to rub your clit as he whispers dirty nothings along with praises into your ear.

“Y/N come for me…” Sam orders and you try so hard to do so. The coil is tightening, your whole body is covered in sweat so you move your hips faster with Sam’s till you feel him filling you up, pushing into you as deep as possible to fill your womb as you writhe on his cock.

“Such a good hooker coming for me. Taking me bare.”

When he pulls out you want to grab your clothes, but he shakes his head, licking his lips. “No…shower, now. I want to see your face when you come on my cock again.” Sam muses.

—-

The water cascades down your body as Sam picks you up, holding you against the cool tile wall to slide into you with one hard stroke.

Wetness is coating his cock and your face is flushed seeing the knowing look onto his face.

“You like my cock…huh? Do you want to cum again?” Sam rasps as his lips nip at your neck. “Yes,” you cry out moving your arms around his neck as he starts crushing his hips against yours.

Your soles dig into his lower back to let Sam go deeper, hitting the sweet spot inside of you. Cries erupt from your lips as your walls tighten around his cock, causing the tall man to move his hips faster. The grip on you tightens and you look up at him as he throws his head into his neck spurting into you.

“Perfect…”

—-

Waking up you feel rough hands exploring your body. Sam is spooning you, sucking hickeys into your shoulder.

“Your next mistakes, Y/N. You let me have you thrice without negotiating about the money. You took me bare again and you fell asleep after round three. I could’ve killed you.” Sam whispers as he ruts against you.

“I know. Maybe I shouldn’t do this job. It was just my last exit…you know.” His hand slips between your legs, sliding through your folds.

“Tell me why…”

“I have to pay back my studies. I lost my job and my boyfriend kicked me out of our apartment. I was crashing at a friend’s place but he wanted…you know.” Your voice is trembling while Sam is busy marking your body more.

“So you thought if he wants sex for letting you sleep on his couch you can sell your sexy body. Hmm…I don’t like it…” Sam mutters tightening the grip on you. “Where do you live now?”

“Still at his apartment but I pay him rent…”

“Did you fuck him?” Now his voice is full of anger but he calms when you shake your head. “Good. Tell me where you live, we are going to talk to your ‘friend’.”

—-

His knuckles are bloody. There’s a dangerous glimmer in Sam’s eyes as he towers over your unconscious friend.

“Your last mistake. Bringing me to your apartment. This could’ve meant death to you. Now I’m going to have to teach you a lesson. Take the empty duffle bags I brought with me and pack your things.” Sam orders.

“Why?” Your eyes meet Sam’s as he ignores your friend and strides toward you, pressing you into the wall.

“You are mine now. I will take you with me and ruin this goody in two shoes girl I had thrice last night. I want to make you scream my name every night and maybe, just maybe I’ll let you go one day…”

“I can’t…”

Sam’s features darken as you try to reason with him. He dips his head, lips only inches from your ear he hums before his hands grip your upper arms. “You are mine now. We match perfectly fine. Two desperate souls. Now pack your things. I want you bare in the backseat in fifteen.”

Not accepting any arguments Sam nips at your neck, marking you once again.

“Sam…”

“You should’ve left before I had a taste of you. Now, hush, hush and get your stuff or I’ll take you with me without anything you need. You're mine…say it.”

Your eyes round and you bite your lower lip. Your mind is racing, just like your heart but at a second thought, you’ve got no one in your life. No job. No family. No hope.

“I’m yours…” Leaves your lips, sealing your fate.

>> Part 2

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

In Corners

Calum never though he’d be a dad like this. But when it comes to his daughter, he’s always in her corner. Always and forever. 

What happens when you put together H’s love for angst+ Single!Dad Calum+ Coming Out?

This. This is the product. 

CW: Mentions of Death and health issues. Coming out. Some slight mentions of homophobia. Anxiety. 

Enjoy my masterlist

Feel free to support me on Kofi.

****No one has my permission to post this fic, including translations. Copyright be-ready-when-i-say-go, 2020.******

_________________________________

Calum shouldn’t have sat down. That is his mistake. He figures he wouldn’t fall asleep. Not this fast, of course. That will always be false hope. That will always be him giving himself too much credit. If he sat down too long without anything to do, especially in the comfy single seater, it would be game over for him. He has an hour before he has to pick up Ariyana from Elizabeth’s house. He dropped her off earlier in the afternoon and said he’d be back to get her before dinner time. 

And after running errands, first to get groceries, then take the dogs to the vet, and be home for the cable company, all Calum really wants is a nap. Just a quick one. That’s all it’ll be. Half an hour and then he can head out to get her. The both of them can decide what to get for dinner, if they’re going to cook or if they’ll give in and order a veggie pizza. There’s nothing like just sitting with a couple boxes of pizza and piling plates with maybe a slice too many and dancing from the counter to the kitchen table to keep any slice from sliding off. 

He feels his head fall forward on his neck and he snaps up. It takes him a moment, realizing he’s slumped down in the living room. Glancing up at the clock, he’s half an hour late. “Shit,” he exclaims, bolting up from the seat, grabbing his keys and wallet. The door is a slamming thud behind him and his keys jingle as he works to get the right one in his fingers.  

Inside the car, he pulls up Ari’s number and sets the phone into the hook on the air vent so he can drive and have both hands free. It rings and rings. Just as the back tires hit asphalt, she picks up. “Fell asleep again didn’t you, Dad?”

“I keep telling you that seat has some sort of magic in it. I’m on my way.”

She laughs. In the background, Calum can hear Elizabeth’s mother, her voice soft and sweet. “He’s on his way. Thanks, Mrs. Banks,” Ariyana says. “Want me to call in the veggie pizza?”

“Please. I’m sorry, baby girl. Should’ve set an alarm on my phone.”

“It’s alright, Dad. I lost track of time too. I’ll call it in.”

“Love you. Thanks.”

“Of course. Love you too.” 

It still blows Calum’s mind that for the last fourteen years it’s been just Ariyana and him, and somehow he’s managed to do the whole Dad thing well. Ariyana isn’t his kid, an apparent fact when she stands next to him at the grocery stores when they go shopping together or when they go out to the movies, on the rare occasions that Ariyana doesn’t think Calum’s lame. Her much darker than his own, almost like her skin swallowed up the night sky. 

But he wouldn’t trade it in for the world. Even though it meant he lost one of his best friends along the way, complications post-birth seemed to just linger and linger on until they unfortunately claimed Ariyana’s mother, Jazmyne. But both her and Calum knew things were going south fast. They both knew that one day would be her last and when Jazymyne told Calum that no matter what happened to her, she wanted him to take care of her baby, he agreed without hesitation. Ari was close to a year old when her mother died, leaving Calum to the wilds of parenthood alone. 

He was there for everything before that. When Ariyana first kicked in the womb. When the doctors let visitors in, he was the first to hold her. He watched her crawl for the first time, attempting to keep up with Duke who was shockingly good with a baby. Maybe it was because they were kindred spirits. All he did was sleep and eat all day and Ariyana as a baby did the same. He has so many pictures of Ari and Duke at his place on the couch, fast asleep, when Jazmyne had doctor’s appointments or whenever she was just too physically tired to do much of anything. Calum always kept his doors opened. He loved, and still loves, Ariyana, so there was never a problem when he got to watch her for a couple hours. 

Ariyana had a game she liked to play, especially when she was being put down for a nap, where when she finally could support her upper half, she would hide her face in Calum’s chest and then push up. He would kiss her forehead or cheek and she’d giggle before hiding her face again. It would go for ten minutes, a cycle of their version of peekaboo and kisses until sleep finally overtook her right there on his chest and Calum would be left, hearing the echo of her sweet giggle, the way only a baby can laugh, with one hand on her back, keeping her secure to his body.

Calum feels the tears filling his lower lashes and tries not to think too much about how much Ariyana has grown up since then. How at almost 25, he became a dad to the sweetest kid in the world. And it might not have been under circumstances that he would’ve liked, or ones that he would’ve expected, but he couldn’t deny the blessing Ariyana was in his life. So how much complaining could Calum really do?

Turning the corner onto the block, Calum can see Ariyana and Elizabeth standing on the front porch, huddled together. And almost, as the sounds of his tires rolling over of the street, are fire, they jump apart. Elizabeth falls into the swing and starts rocking as if she were doing it the entire time. Calum knows. He suspected it long before when suddenly Ari talked about Elizabeth all the time. They stayed after school a lot, on homework as the excuse. But Calum never pushed it. 

Instead, Calum parks. He opens his door just as the front door opens and Elizabeth’s mom steps out waving. “Thank you again, Jodie,” Calum calls out as he stands behind the opened driver side door. 

“Anytime. You know Ariyana’s welcome over literally whenever. Maybe next week, girls, we can do that candle thing I was showing you guys.”

“Mom,” Elizabeth groans. 

“What? It looks fun,” Jodie defends. It’s easy to see the relation between the two of them. Elizabeth getting her mother’s dark and wild curls. “You guys said you wanted something to do the next time you hung out? I figured what’s to lose by learning how to make candles?”

“Yeah, but they’re in those elementary school milk cartons.”

Jodie shakes her head. Her gaze lands on Calum and they both share a knowing look before Jodie turns back to Elizabeth, hands up and palms out. “Well, think about it then. Maybe we can find some other craft. Doesn’t have to be candles.”

Both girls are glancing at each other, communicating something and Calum has a good idea what it is. But with a small wave and smile, Ariyana steps down from the porch and over to the passenger side of Calum’s SUV. They both climb inside, doors closing at the same time. “Pizza should be done by the time we get there,” Ari says, sliding the seatbelt across her. 

“Cool. Tomorrow, I’ll cook.”

“You mean, tomorrow you’ll attempt to cook but I’ll have a take out place on standby.”

“My cooking’s gotten better over the years.”

“I’ll give you that,” she laughs. Then falls silent, mostly car rides are full of her talking about her day, asking questions, making terrible puns about the street names. But now, she fiddles with her phone, staring out of the window as the world passes by them. And she questions for a brief moment if they are passing the world by. Because it feels like it, as she sits next to her dad. 

Ariyana knows about her mother dying, she knows about Calum adopting her because of her mother’s wishes. She’s grateful for it. She can’t imagine what her life would be like if it weren’t for Calum, if she wound up with someone else, if she wound up with her grandmother, who lived back in the South. Calum never kept her family out of her life, but it’s always a question that plagues her. What would her life be like if things had been different? What would she be like if her grandmother took her in? Would her grandmother dress her up every Sunday like she did to her mother? Would she be eating oatmeal in the mornings with bacon on the side and just on the other side of the kitchen table a Bible would sit? 

She’s not sure why her mother didn’t leave her to her grandmother. Though she’s asked Calum several times, he never really answers it. Her grandmother never treated her badly. When she spent the summers at her house, running through the neighborhood with the other kids, and they scrambled to be inside doors or on porch steps as the streetlights came on, her grandmother would always be waiting, hands on her hips, with a shake of her head. ‘Cutting it close, like you gunnin for trouble,’ her grandmother would always say. 

But on the table would be her plate for dinner. Her aunts and uncle would always hook her up with the latest sneakers. Ariyana learned how to walk not to put creases in her shoes. She spent many nights sitting in her mother’s childhood room, cleaning sneakers with toothbrushes. She stared up at peeling wallpaper, feeling the soft pressure of reassuring hands on her shoulders. No one else would be in the room with her. 

And Calum never sheltered her from any of that. He took really good care of her and she never felt like she couldn’t tell him anything. She never felt like there was a disconnect. Until now. Because in her soul, deep in her gut, she knows that she wouldn’t have to worry about this with her mother. Her mother would just get her. There was nothing else in the world besides a mother’s love. Or maybe Ariyana just yearned for her mother right now that it made it seem like that. Maybe all she wants right now is that soothing touch, like when Grandma’s worn leathery palms would cup her cheeks and every ache was soothed. Every worry was squashed in just one touch. 

“I’ll be right back. Don’t drive away now,” Calum teases, sliding out of the truck. 

Ariyana finally notices that they’re pulled up right in front of the doors of the pizza shop. She nods, glancing over to Calum. Does he know? Is he going to flip? She hopes he wouldn’t. Ariyana hopes that the track record of telling Calum major news proves accurate for future reactions. Like shockingly, he didn’t flip a lid when she was near failing trig. Mostly because she was too busy passing notes to Elizabeth. But she covered that up by saying the teacher just taught it in a confusing manner and Calum asked her if she wanted a tutor. That was all. He encouraged her that she could always try the subject again in the summer or maybe again once school started, but he didn’t give her a spill about how failing classes would never get her into college, or never help her make a living in the world. 

But almost failing trig and having to tell him this, the truth, admitting that even she’s not sure about the label--that could never compare. 

The car door opens and Calum slides the pizza onto the floor to keep it safe. Just as he gets into the driver seat, Ariyana speaks. “Can we go visit Mom? Like after dinner or whenever it really works?”

Calum nods. “We can go right now if you want. I have blankets in the back. Make it a picnic.”

“Those are the dogs blankets but sure, they’ll suffice.”

“Hey, now, the dogs don’t complain about those nice soft blankets.” He says it on the shot to make her laugh. He can tell something in weighing on her mind. That’s not his Ariyana but sometimes things are just hard to express verbally. He gets that. 

“They lack the ability too. So…” she laughs, watching as Calum makes a dramatic show of rolling his eyes and sighing. 

The smell of cheese and marinara sauce fills the car. There’s not even the radio playing. Calum lets her have control most of the time. According to her, all he ever plays are the throwback jams. Though occasionally in her shuffle she slips in one of the songs he’s mentioned or played before. She only puts the ‘good ones’ on though, her exact phrasing when Calum brought it up once. 

Upon arriving at the cemetery, Calum pauses, watching Ariyana slip out of the car. She skirts around to the trunk, pulling out the blankets. “Trunk water?” she asks, referring the case of water Calum keeps in the trunk. Mostly for emergencies and because he’s had a case always on hand. 

“I got it,” Calum returns as he grabs the pizza. He wants to ask if everything is okay. If there’s anything he needs to do, or anything she wants him to do, but he’s not sure if the question warrants verbalization. Something is not okay. Something is going on. Though he doesn’t want to push her at the same time. 

Walking over the grass, Calum doesn’t even take note of the headstones that lead their way. Most of the time he does. Most of the time he hates coming here. He never really thought he would’ve griefed a major loss in his twenties. He didn’t think life would be that cruel to him. Yet it had. Yet, he buried her six feet deep, let the oak be a barrier between her flesh and whatever creatures lived in the dirt. But this whole row, the plot they had to pick out together while Ariyana was still much too young, still a babbling baby on one of their hips. Calum can’t remember anymore the specifics. 

This whole trek though shows him he’s not alone. Many others have had those same feelings. Many others have cried a flood of tears before him and he can only hope those that cry for him don’t feel too burdened. He hopes that they know his life began and had to end too. It’s at the plot as Ariyana starts to unfold the blanket that Calum wonders if she wants to go to stay with her grandmother. Before she spent a lot of summers there because Calum had to go for a tour, but even during her Christmas breaks, she asked to go more often. Because he has to leave during the school year too sometimes, Ariyana stays with Luke’s wife and their kids. It works out, never find the fact that they have to make it work. 

“Do you want to live with your grandmother, Ari?”

Ariyana looks over to Calum, her brows pulled in together in confusion. “Did you nap so hard, Dad, that you lost your marbles? I love Grandma Gigi. But no, I don’t want to live with her.”

“I just--you’ve been quiet. Like something’s wrong. And I didn’t--I didn’t want you thinking that you couldn’t talk to me about whatever it is that’s going on. I know it’s not easy when I have to travel so many months at a time. But like, if you wanted something more stable, I don’t fault you. I wouldn’t be mad.”

Their blankets are straightened out and Ariyana places her arms under the boxes. “It’s crazy, yeah. But let’s be real. I have like four rooms at this point, one at every uncle’s house. Birthdays are like, insane when we all get together to have a party. And I like it, just us. Besides you don’t flip like Grandma Gigi about curfew. Though her cooking is better.” She sees Calum’s faux offense and quickly adds on, “But I do love you. You taught me how to ride a bike. You’re there to help me study when I can’t decode Shakespeare. You paid for me to learn how to fail at tap dancing.”

“You were getting better, sweetheart.”

“I was awful, Dad. And you taught me how to play football and helped me make junior varsity. There’s no one else that could’ve done all that.”

“You were an easy baby. A difficult teen. But an easy baby.”

“I won’t take offense at you calling me difficult. For now. It might come back up in other later arguments.”

Calum laughs, nodding his head towards the ground. “Believe me, I expect it.”

They finally sit, the pizza still warm as they take their first bites. Ariyana really asked to come out here because maybe she could tell Calum without actually having to say it. Maybe her mother would give her strength even beyond the grave. It would be like, coming out to both the people she cared about the most, at the same time. She wouldn’t have to do this over, and over, and over. Except her uncles of course. 

Grandma Gigi is going to be a whole other battle. That will have to be a battle she’ll have to fight when it comes up. Right now, she has to tell Calum. With nothing but crust in her fingers, she looks over to Calum. “Dad,” she starts. She’s never called him anything other than that, though she knows he’s not her biological father. She’s never known him as anything other than that. She’s never known him as anyone that would freak, or stop loving her, or shun her for anything. 

“What’s up, baby girl?” If Ariyana doesn’t want to move in with her grandmother, Calum’s at a loss. He just wants her to be happy. And healthy, of course, too. But seeing her torn up like this makes his gut constrict. He’s only been able to stomach one slice thus far. 

“Have you ever known you were different? Not like you suspected or you were guessing. But you just knew.”

It clicks. Like the switch of a light being turned on, Calum gets it. He exhales, reaching for another slice of pizza. “Well,” he starts, holding the slice on his fingers as he chews over the right words. He stares down at Jazmyne’s headstone. What do I tell her? You’d be so much better at this. He doesn’t want to start out with the ‘whole everyone’s different’ thing. It feels contrived, like he’s trying to weigh his own struggles against hers. All he wants to do, at a moment like this, is let her know he’s listening. He’s picking up the clues. “There’s nothing wrong with different, ya know? Different is good.”

“You don’t think different is like, wrong? Like, there’s a ‘normal’ that everyone’s used too. And different is scary. But is it wrong, ya know?”

There’s no use in trying to beat around the bush anymore. Calum swallows down his bite of pizza resting it on the cardboard box on the side where none of the other slices rest. He looks over at her, as she picks at the dog fur coating her black jeans. “Who you love or find attractive isn’t wrong. It may be different from what others expect of you or what others deem is right. I don’t care who you love. I love different. I accept different. I respect different and that means I love you; I accept you. And it also means I respect you too.”

Almost like a popped balloon Ariyana sighs. All the tension from her shoulders drop. “Was it that obvious?”

“I know when someone’s smitten when I see it.”

There’s a moment, where they both sit, watching the setting sun. Ari’s glad that it went well. That she doesn’t have to hide or fear anything. “You didn’t even let me say it, though,” she points out. “Like, I had this whole speech prepared and everything!”

Calum laughs. “Okay, let’s redo.”

“No, it’s too late now,” she huffs, holding her arms across her chest. Her laughter is bubbling in her chest and escapes her in tufts. “But, in all honesty, thanks. For understanding. I was kinda scared.”

Calum nods. “I understand. But I don’t want you to be afraid of telling me things. I’m always in your corner, Ariyana. Always and forever.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

With empty boxes collected and the blankets folded back up, Ariyana looks down at her mother’s gravestone. “I hope you understand, Mom. Love you.” The car ride is DJ’ed, like usual, Ariyana’s playlist and things are easy again. 

It’s about a week later as Ariyana gathers her books from the dining room table for school, when she notices a tiny pride flag pinned to the front pouch of her backpack. She didn’t buy that. Not even in her venture to the mall with Elizabeth last Saturday and they stopped at a small kiosk that was selling a bunch of pins. Elizabeth bought one, if she remembered correctly. But not her. 

“Ready to go, Ari?”

“Dad, did I buy that pin?” she asks, pointing to her brown canvas bag. 

“If it’s too much, you don’t have to leave it there. But I know you’re into pins now.” That explains it. He bought and pinned it there. And if she knows anything, inside will be a bottle of orange juice and some candy, in case she needs the sugar boost during the day. She hates that he does it, but as of late, she’s needed then more and more. 

“When’s my doctor’s appointment again?”

“Tomorrow, Tuesday. 1:30. I’ll be there to get you before your lunch time.”

“I’m going to miss trig.”

“You mean you’re going to miss Elizabeth,” Calum corrects, shouldering the loaded up backpack. 

“No, I’m failing trig, not failing in my relationship.”

“Smart ass,” he laughs as they shuffle out of the door. “C’mon. You’ve got a test first period and you’re not being late as an excuse.”

“Oh, c’mon, Dad. It’s World History. I can ace it in my sleep.” 

It’s true, but still, he’s not going to risk it. Ariyana plays with her phone, mostly texting but Calum’s not shocked. When his stops in the parking lot, the buses are already lined up and unloading. Ariyana grabs her bag, but not before leaning across the console and kissing Calum on his cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Kick ass on that test. Don’t be afraid to go to the nurse’s office or call me if you feel another dizzy spell, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“Tell Elizabeth I said hi, alright?” 

Ariyana can’t stop the smile as she shuts the door. The window already rolled down. “You love having that power, don’t you?”

Calum laughs, leaning forward into the steering wheel but not pressing down on the horn. “C’mon your pops has to have a little fun, ya know.” 

She rolls her eyes, wishing she could seriously be upset. But instead, all there is is elation. She calls out another ‘love you’ and then starts towards the front doors. Right on the curb is Elizabeth, waiting for her. Their embrace is quick and they shuffle inside, hand in hand. There’s a moment, where there’s a small pause, Ari showing off the pin and Calum can only grin watching them. “You’re probably already seeing this Jaz. But God, she’s growing up fast. Her first girlfriend. Like, fuck, I’m getting old. So old, but I hope you’re proud. I hope she’s everything you wanted in a daughter. I hope I’m doing you proud.”

Calum knows he’s been watching too long when the buses start to leave. But part of him is worried. Afraid that he’ll pull out of the parking lot and she’ll wind up in the nurse's office waiting for him to rush to get her. He’s worried that he’s going to pull off and when he comes back she’s going to graduate. It might be her second year in high school but it already feels like with every blink she keeps growing up. He can’t stop her. He can’t keep her as that babbling baby on his chest who’d laugh at the raspberries on her cheeks. 

It’s on the drive back home, when there’s no music, no laughing from his right. When it’s just him and the road and the breeze floating in that he feels something on his cheek. It’s warm for a quick moment, even tinkles, and then gone. It’s not a bug, not some stray piece of hair. It encompassed his whole cheek and he thinks it was Jazmyne, cupping his cheek, like she always did before she’d pinched his cheeks. It never failed to annoy him. 

A tear slips from his eye. At the last red light before turning into his neighborhood, he doesn’t stop the ones that overflow the waterlines of his eyes. “I know you’re there.”

Tagging: @5-secondsofcolor @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles

[nukyster-blog]

Changing course, chapter 1:

I started writing this story because I love Ivar, but disliked what he became. I loved him up to where Ragnar died, after that he became more of a villain than an anti-hero. For that, I wanted to give him a good hit of karma and figured making him a slave for Christians would be his worst nightmare. Before you continue reading, I’d like to address that the story will be graphic in the blood/guts/death/violence sense. I’m also aiming to get things as historically accurate as I can, but this is my hobby so if I make horrible mistakes, bear with me. 

Chapter 1) Changing Course .-.-.

Ivar had always been plagued by pain. Since the day he left his mother’s womb and drew his first breath, life had been an endless road of physical suffering. As a nursling, those insufferable muscle aches and stiff joints made him cry relentlessly. Endlessly. It would drive his brother’s up the walls; send their father overseas. He’d weep in his mother’s arms, only silenced by the warmth of her breast; his pain absorbing strength which turned him hungry. He’d endured remarkably, survived the first crucial years and eventually managed to tolerate the pain as part of his life. He learnt to see the inevitable suffering not as foe, but as an unwelcome acquaintance that needed to be ignored in order to get through the day. That mindset, combined with his stubbornness and willpower made it possible for him to keep his chin up and get through the day. It did not lessen his self loathing and envy towards his brothers. Blessed with strong and healthy bodies, their mere existence were three thorns in Ivar’s eye; the youngest son of Ragnar Lothbrok. The black sheep, the boneless; deformed from the waist down. 

His handicap planted a seed deep inside his chest and it spread all throughout his ribcage like poison ivy. It was blinding hate towards the world, to all who were capable to roam free and looked down upon him. Burdened by his physical limits his rage would at times rise high above his handicap, withstanding the pain to solemnly focus on destruction.  

Not a single soul forgot Ivar’s first victim. How he’d embedded his axe into the skull of another child. He remembered vividly how his tiny fist had trembled around the handle, how his mother pulled him tightly against her chest and rushed him inside. Hush dyrbare, she’d soothed him, her voice soft and warm, it’s not your fault, don’t feel regret, you are the son of Ragnar Lofthbrok, it’s only right for people to fear you. Her response was the only validation he needed. Ivar took the reassuring words of his mother to heart and smothered all forms of empathy. He was entitled to lash out to others and from that very young age Ivar found a coping mechanism; hurting the less fortunate. It wasn’t physically torture per se; his mother’s smothering grip enabled him to actually torture their thralls and peasants. He might be a useless prince, but he was a prince. His royal blood burdened him to keep their name up to certain standards, so purposely torturing their slaves was inexcusable. 

That did not mean Ivar would let any change go by to destroy the little belongings their thralls valued, pinch his nursemaid up to the point it left bruises, sink his teeth into ankles and throw a fit over the littlest of things. It was interesting to see that over time, he became quit infamous to the poor and powerless population of Kattegat. They saw him as a monster and that was much better than to be perceived as a crippled. So Ivar willingly took on the role of something dark and disgusting, he embraced being a monster.

His second act of bloodthirst happened during his pre pubescent years. The Seer had condemned a Christian to death by starvation. 

Curiosity made him crawl to their city centre in the middle of the night where he first observed the haggard form of a man, fiercely praying to it’s false God.

It was an offense, openly performing such devotion for it’s Christian God. Although the slave never laid an eye on him, Ivar resented the man with every fiber of his being. It wasn’t the poor man per say, that set him off, the poor thing simply represented defiance; praying to it’s Christian God in the centre of their town. What he later claimed as hate for the Christian, had simply been an excuse to unleash his rage. The wrath towards the entire world had been sprouting all throughout his chest and some of the roots must have reached his brain. Because what he did with his bare hands was inhuman. He destroyed the Christian, with his bare hands, knuckles and teeth. Like a meek lamb the man, awaited his death and did not fight when he was being slaughtered. It had been Ivar’s first intentional murder and it was hypnotic, addictive. Without empathy, it was easy to perceive the human body as a gigantic canvas; with endless possibilities. Destruction and pain was the purest form of art, of life itself. By ending it. Ivar loved every moment, every hair, teeth, every fiber of it. The iron taste of warm blood, the warmth of it running down his hands, chin and chest. He welcomed it, all of it and bathed in it. All for glory, all for Odin. All to make the world forget the crippled boy that wept for his mother’s warmth and see him for what he wanted to be. A monster, because he failed to perceive himself as a man, as an equal to his brothers. No, his weak legs would never place him in the same line as his brother’s. So, a monster then, was the second best choice. 

Ivar showed Kattegat another form of Boneless. At the first lights of dawn, the centre filled itself with exclamations of horrors and awe. The cobblestones were painted crimson and a flock of chickens were pecking at the intestines of the Christian. They lay spread throughout the centre, attracting flies and more bystanders. Ivar had just ripped out the tibia bones, leaving the muscles and skin lay wobbly and in a strange angle now that it’s inner skeleton had been removed. Ivar had been scraping the last bits of flesh from the bones with his fingernails when his mother appeared from the crowd and cried out in horror, falling down on her knees. 

From that day, his brothers looked at him differently. With disgust, yes, because he mauled the body of the Christian like a starved wolf. Which wasn’t far from the truth, honestly, he’d been hungry. Hungry for blood. And validation. 

From that day on, there was a hush whenever Ivar entered the Great hall, or any other place. Folks turned their head, acknowledged his presence. It was enough clarification for Ivar that being ruthless and malevolent paid off. Instead of being the handicapped son of Ragnar Lothbrok, he was the Christian slaughterer. Ivar the Boneless, now he was able to wear that byname with pride.

He’d carved pawns from the Christian’s bones and used them for his tafle game. During a game, he jokingly commented that he should’ve taken a knee bone too, it would have made an excellent king. Hvitserk chuckled uncomfortably, Sigurt’s eyes widened and Ubbe walked out. He’d loved it, pressing everyone’s buttons, making them uncomfortable and on edge. But eventually, his prepubescent act of monstrosity faded. 

That was why he felt blessed when their father asked him to join his raid in Wessex. Him, only him; Ivar the Boneless, joining their father on a raid. The Gods never favoured him and instead of glory, Ivar found despair. Their father, Ragnar Lothbrok willingly walked into the belly of the beast, with his hands raised high, unarmed and broken. Like a loyal dog, he’d crawled after his father, knowing full heartily in the castle of Wessex lay nothing but doom. Still, he’d rather die by his father’s side then end up dead in a ditch, from hunger and thirst. His father broke his promise, or rather King Egbert’s son did. The safe passage back home, which had been arranged turned out to be a lie. When he was dragged away from his father’s cell, a blunt object collided to the back of his head and pain temporarily blinded him. Quite helplessly, he’d been listening to Prince Aethelwulf arranging his deposit. The pain in the back of his head was severe. Pain throbbed so violently around in his skull that he wondered why it didn’t just crack open.

For the first day, the nausea was overwhelming, he could not keep anything down. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he lost track of time and place. Curled up, cradling his damaged skull he wished for his mother. Any form of light ravaged his brain, pounding, throbbing, like a rotting tooth right between the eyes. It took his sanity away, his coordination. The few altercation he had with Saxxons made him whimper and plead for salvation. But no relief came to his pain. Without power to fight back, Ivar found himself tossed into a ship hold, as if he were a sack of potatoes; nothing more than damaged cargo. The circumstances below deck were horrendous; human cattle packed up and wedged together as tightly as the overseers could cramp in. Ivar, half aware of his surroundings and halfway sliding into a deep pool of endless nothingness, flinched when fingers reached for his oath ring. A fist formed itself around his wrist like a bear trap and with that, the last bits of his hereditary was ripped off of him. The leather protecting his fragile lower limbs, gone, taken too. His necklace, also gone. Even his shoes and tunic were worth taking. The overseers sniggered at the sight of Ivar’s weak attempt to intervene and shoved him aside, like a thing. Like a nothing.

Their journey overseas started although Ivar wasn’t aware, which in his case was a good thing. The onerous space was filled up to the max, with minimal resources. There was barely any light, no personal space. Water was scarce and so was food. Hygiene became a problem after the ship set it’s sails and some of the unlucky ones got seasick. It did not take long for the cramped out area to turn into a sewage; the stench and heat insufferable. 

Ivar withstood the trials in silence, cradling his head in a fetal position. The pain in his head was all consuming. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed the pain to go away. Over and over, until in the end, the rest of the world became detached. 

He could barely hear the people around him. Some prayed in foreign tongues, others whimpered. Somewhere afar, a young child cried. 

Eventually, he drifted into sleep, waking up by a sudden toss aside. Cries were lost beneath the thunder that rolled overhead. Their cage of wood and sails was mercilessly thrown into a storm. The waves resolutely grew in size. Their vessel rode the mighty swelling sea like a child’s toy, no longer controlled by the hands of men. 

The inhabitants below deck were violently thrown from the far end of the hold to the other. Bodies were being trampled, panic spread like the plague, festering into each and everyone’s head. Violence roamed among the poor souls in captivity in order to breathe. 

At one point, Ivar found himself suffocating. Never had he wished more for land, to feel the sweet green grass of his home against the palms of his hands. The sea, it felt like his rage from within. Like punishment, ready to tear itself through the wooden construction to claim their souls. His mother’s prophecy would come true. He would drown and never enter Valhalla, because there was no honour in this poor death. To be dragged down to the bottom of the sea with countless slaves. There was nothing heroic nor royal about this death. This was not the end of a Prince, yet it seemed inevitable. And although he fought the feeling with every last bit of strength he could muster, Ivar was petrified. For the cold water to seize his body, for his lungs to fill up with water, to feel his life slowly ebb away.  

In between the lightning, darkness prevailed. In between the darkness there were flashes of his fellow unfortunate souls, their faces overcome with terror. 

‘Is it Odin’, Ivar thought, ‘fighting with the Christian God?’ Was this his fault, for it was him who’d coldly, bloodily mauled a defenseless Christian? 

‘Please Odin, the All-father, do not allow a Viking prince to die such an unworthy death,’ Ivar pleaded, ‘if I survive this storm I promise you, I will make it worth your while.’ 

As sudden as the storm erupted, it disappeared. Along the dawn of morning, the ship anchored ashore. 

Sunlight burned his eyes, blinding Ivar momentarily as the portholes were pulled open by the overseers. Orders were being shouted in unfamiliar tongues, for those who weren’t familiar with the language, there was the beating of a whip. The human cargo was expected to exit the ship, rather sooner than later. 

Few bodies remained lifeless, passed away due to suffocation. One by one they were removed by the overseers; by simply being thrown off the ship. There was no honor, nor time to bury a slave.

When one of the overseers took hold of Ivar’s curled up body, he was surprised to find the slave to be alive. Surprise was rapidly replaced by irritation. Lashing his whip he struck Ivar across the face, making the poor young man hiss and hide his face. 

The overseer signaled another member of his crew to lend out a helping hand. Both grabbed Ivar underneath his armpits and dragged him up his feet. 

Both men grunted in annoyance when their slave immediately dropped back on the floor. One chuckled and nudged against Ivar’s deformed legs. The other one let out a long impatient sigh and kicked Ivar’s arms right from under him. 

Ivar’s chin merely had time to hit the wooden floor, before a familiar boot planted itself onto Ivar’s spinal cord, taking his breath away. 

The other overseer sank down on his knees, a knife playing between his fingers. Though rust had set on the handle and blade, it was strong and jagged, enough to cut a throat. 

The tip of the knife pressing against Ivar’s  Adam’s apple prevailed the pain in his head, the stiffness of his limbs and the heavy weight on top of him. 

“I can crawl you croaked-nosed bastard,” Ivar snarled, his hands bracing to carry his upper body. The overseers must have found it amusing, seeing him squirm on the floor like a spider being squished. To exaggerate Ivar’s deride, the boot placed on his back moved up to in between his shoulder blades, pressing him down firmly. 

The boiling rage inside of him, swept through his system, like an old favoured friend patting him on the back. 

In effort to remain silent Ivar gritted his teeth, his knuckles turned white from clenching his fists too hard. His eyes squeezed closed as his face contorted and he placed his palms down onto the splintery floor. Arching his back, the pain rushed through his body like an igniting fire, but he would withstand it, even if it was the last thing he’d do. Inch by inch, he pressed himself up while another man’s weight pressed him down. With every inch, his demolished resilience sparked back up and inwardly he roared when the overseer took the boot off his back, allowing him to carry his crippled arse out of this hellhole. 

Crawling like a worm from a bird, he climbed up the steps, one by one, while sweat trickled down his face and his right eye twitched from the explosive pain inside his damaged skull. 

On the upper deck, he briefly sank against a barrel, allowing his lungs to fill up with the salty fresh breeze. Grey clouds roamed freely above – hindering the sun and its warmth. 

Once Ivar caught his breath and expelled the headache to the far end of his brain, he risked a peek over the railing. 

Dejection curled around his chest with the grip of an iron straight jacket. The ship had anchored at a small harbour, bedded near a murky dirt road. A long line of future slaves were staggering towards carts pulled by mules. One man’s sanity must have drowned during the storm, the poor bastard broke the line and made a run for it. 

He did not get far, an armed horse rider strode after him, stabbing a spear through his neck. There was no escape, at least not now. 

And so Ivar the Boneless, son of King Ragnar Lothbrok, found himself obeying the commands of Christians, lost in a faraway land while his father was at the mercy of a mendacious king. His mother presumed him to be dead, lifeless at the bottom of the sea. So there wouldn’t be a soul looking for him. 

He came to Essex as a Prince, for fame and glory; yet resurrected as a nameless, crippled slave. Oh, the Gods played him the most lousy cards of all. 

.-.-.

A/N: So this was chapter one of my Ivar fanfiction, I’m thrilled to hear what you think of it so far. As I’m still very much on Ivar’s side, I’d like to point out that yes he murdered a person in a gruesome way, but he basically did it for validation. Ok, yes that fact might make it even worse, but the way I see it is that Ivar desperately wants to become ‘something’, that he’d rather be a monster than be the person he is. 

And now he’s not even a monster anymore, now he’s just a slave, that’s karma baby. 

Xoxox Nukyster 

[tornbetween2loves]

Hot Welcoming

This is my entry for Kinky Cards 2020. My card was #69 Hot Welcoming. Wait for your partner to come home and give him/her immediate surprise sex. He/she must finish. For this fic, I chose a Baslivia pairing. It takes place in the AU for my series My Heart Torn Apart, which has Liam in a poly relationship with Drake and Riley. This fic also fulfills a very old request I had in my inbox from @bobasheebaby. The prompt was ‘snow’. Hope you all like it! This is the first fic I’ve posted in awhile. This mood board was made by @texaskitten30

This fic contains erotica. Please do not read if you are under the age of 18.

All characters belong to Pixelberry, I am simply borrowing them.

Olivia sat on the leather couch in the family room and watched the snow swirling outside. The fire crackled in the warm and cozy room as she leaned forward and grasped the mug of hot cocoa in her hand. Her eyes fell on a card sitting next to the mug. She rolled her eyes as she thought about the night she got that card. Her and Riley were having drinks at the palace while Liam, Drake and Bastien were in a late security meeting. Olivia was waiting to ride back to Lythikos with Bastien. The girls were having a blast, sharing stories about their men and she had just enough to drink to reveal a secret she had been keeping for quite some time. 




“So, have you used the kinky cards I gave you at your bachelorette party yet?” Riley’s mouth dropped open and her cheeks flushed. “That was your gift? Why didn’t you tell me?” She shrugged. “I like to keep people guessing. So, did you use them?” Riley took a big gulp of her drink and cleared her throat. She nodded as she shot Olivia a sideways glance. The girls both broke into a fit of giggles. “Please, you have to tell me which ones.” Riley shrugged. “Let’s see if you can guess. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”




She came back with the cards a few minutes later. Olivia loosened the red ribbon and lifted the lid off the box. She looked through a few of the cards, then realized only one was upside down. She pulled that card out and lifted a brow. “Gift toy?” She could tell immediately by the rush of blood to Riley’s face. Olivia couldn’t help her laughter. “Exactly what kind of toy did you get?” Riley looked away as she said quietly, “anal beads.” Olivia stopped short and tried to contain her giggles. “Wow, I was not expecting that. Although with two husbands, I guess that makes sense.”




“I have an idea,” Riley said as she finished her drink. “Why don’t we each pick a card for the other to try?” Olivia looked doubtful. “I don’t know, isn’t that a little personal?” Riley shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not like we’re gonna make videos or anything. We don’t even have to share details. Just a simple nod the next time we see each other will be confirmation that we followed through.” After considering it for a moment, Olivia threw her arms up in the air. “Ah, what the hell. Could be fun. Let’s do it.”




So Olivia left the palace that night with a kinky card in her pocket for her to use with Bastien. She had been thinking about it for over a week now. The timing had to be perfect. She picked up the card and read it again. 




Card 69. Hot Welcoming. Wait for your partner to come home and give him/her immediate surprise sex. He/she must finish.




Tonight was the night. It was perfect. She wasn’t expecting Bastien for a couple of hours yet, he had a late meeting with Liam and Drake. He was doing a lot of consulting work since he retired as head of the Royal Guard. All of the staff would be gone by the time he got home. She looked out the window again. Hopefully the weather didn’t interfere with her plans. She finished her cocoa and went upstairs to get ready. 




*********

She stretched out on the bed, wearing only back-seam stockings and red stilettos. Thoughts of her Bas filled her mind and she let out a low groan as her hands grazed across her nipples and slowly moved between her legs. She made slow circles across her clit, thinking of his tongue swirling on her most sensitive spot. Her breath hitched and a moan escaped her as she slipped a finger inside. She arched her back and began to writhe as she pumped her finger in and out then inserted another finger. She was close to the edge, her breath came in short spurts as she pumped her fingers faster and faster while continuing to circle her swollen nub with the other hand. All the while imagining her Bas between her legs, smiling up at her as he expertly worked her body into a frenzy. 




Just as she was about to go over the edge, her phone pinged. She groaned and reluctantly reached for it. She groaned again when she saw the text from Bastien.




Hey darling, I’m probably going to be late. This snow is laying pretty fast on the roads. I’ll be there asap. Love you.




Maybe tonight wasn’t the night for a Hot Welcoming.




***************




“Damn it! Fucking black ice!” Bastien groaned and laid his head on the steering wheel. Perhaps he should’ve stayed at the palace that night. But he had promised Olivia he would come home. Luckily, there was no traffic on the road when he hit the icy patch and spun out of control and off the road into a ditch. There was no way he could get his car out by himself. He wasn’t far from home, only about a mile. But a mile in these conditions could be treacherous. He sat in the car, contemplating his next move. He sent Olivia a text then got out of the car and started walking. 




The wind whipped around him as he pulled his coat tight around him. He really wasn’t dressed for a hike in the snow. He had no hat and only a thin pair of leather driving gloves. Thank god he decided to wear a wool suit that day. But his dress shoes had him sliding all over the place. He finally gave up trying to walk on the road and moved to the shoulder. He stepped in the snow and it crunched as he sank to mid-calf. Bastien groaned as the snow seeped into his socks and shoes and travelled up his pant leg. It was cold. But at least he wasn’t sliding everywhere. He took off jogging, using the collar of his coat to cover his face up to his eyes and shield the wind. He made pretty good progress, he kept a steady pace and felt fairly warm, despite being wet from the knees down. 




***************************************

After what felt like hours, Bastien came to the bottom of Olivia’s driveway. He punched a code in the gate and made his way up the driveway. He entered through the side door into the garage, stripping out of his wet clothes in the mud room and making his way slowly into the kitchen. He looked around, despite being fairly certain that the staff was gone for the night. He tiptoed through the kitchen and up the back stairway to the master suite. 




The lights were off and Bastien assumed Olivia was sleeping. He closed the door quietly and slowly made his way over to the bed in the dark. He gently lifted up the covers and climbed under, savoring the warmth of the down comforter. He reached for Olivia and was startled to find she was not there. He sat up in bed and looked around the room. “Liv? Are you here?” It was so dark he couldn’t see anything, so he reached for the lamp on his nightstand. 




He was so astonished to see Olivia standing at the foot of the bed that he let out a yelp. “My god woman! Are you trying to scare me half to death?” His heart raced as he noticed she was wearing a black trench coat and fedora. She flashed him a sexy smile. “No Bas, I’m not trying to scare you,” she purred. “Quite the opposite, in fact.” His mouth dropped open as she unbuttoned the coat and turned around, letting it drop to the floor. A groan escaped his throat as he realized she was completely naked other than back seam stockings and stilettos. His cock twitched under the covers, coming back to life in the warmth. “Oh Liv, you are so fucking sexy,” he growled as his whole body began to feel warm again. 




She spun around and took off the fedora and tossed it at him. Before he could react she was standing beside him. She flung the covers off to expose his hard cock. “I’ve been waiting soooo long for you Bas,” she said in a throaty voice. She took his hand and brought it between her legs. “I want you to feel how wet I am for you right now.��� Bastien licked his lips and a guttural moan escaped him as he slipped his fingers between her lips. They immediately became coated with her juices and he brought his fingers to his mouth to taste her. “Damn baby, I want to taste you.” He grabbed her around the waist and tried to move her on top of him. She slapped his hands away. “Nope, not yet.” He sighed in frustration and growled as she climbed on top of him and slid herself down onto him. She immediately began bouncing up and down on him, using her hands on his chest for leverage. 




“Whoa, Liv, slow down...I...oh my god,” Bastien moaned and grunted as her furious pace brought him close to the edge very quickly. Just as he was about to lose control, she leaned forward and stretched her arms out above his head. “I want you to cum for me Bas,” she purred as she began to grind her pelvis into his. She kissed him hard, her tongue assaulting his mouth as her pace quickened. He broke their kiss and cried out as she pressed her whole body into his. Her hot, slick body rocking on his cock brought him right to the edge again and this time she didn’t stop. He growled her name from deep in his throat as he pulsed inside her, spilling his seed deep in her womb. Olivia collapsed on top of him, both of them breathless and sweaty. 




She rolled over onto the bed next to him and propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. He was still trying to catch his breath as he smiled at her. “Liv, that was amazing! I don’t know what that was all about, but damn. Wow.” Her lips curved into a slight smile as she leaned towards him and whispered in his ear, “That was your Hot Welcoming.” Bastien raised an eyebrow at her. “Hot welcoming? It certainly was. And the best part is, I was freezing. My car got stuck in a ditch and I had to walk the last mile home. I stripped in the mud room because my clothes were soaked. It was perfect, Liv.” 




He leaned up to kiss her, then rolled her over onto her back. He kissed her one more time, then winked at her. “Now it’s your turn,” he said as he moved down between her legs. Olivia’s breath hitched and she cried out as he immediately slid two fingers inside her and began making rapid circles around her swollen nub with his tongue. He pumped his fingers in and out and continued the furious pace as she writhed beneath him. He could feel her walls begin to pulse around his fingers and he slowed his pace, bringing her close to the edge but not allowing her to finish. “Ah! No, Bas, please.” She panted as she tugged on his hair and thrust her hips into his face. He kept his pace infuriatingly slow, removing his fingers and stroking her labia with long, languid movements of his tongue. Olivia continued to buck her hips and twist and shudder beneath him. She moaned and groaned and pleaded until she felt she was on the verge of tears. Finally, she felt like she could take no more. She raised her head up and met his steel-grey eyes. 




“Fuck me, Bas. Hard. Right now.”




He smiled up at her. “As you wish, my love.” 




He moved up and kissed her hard on the mouth as he pressed his hard length into her wet entrance. “Yessssss, Basssssss,” she moaned as she felt him fill her.




He thrust furiously as Olivia wrapped her legs around him, meeting each thrust with her pelvis and a grunt from the back of her throat. Her walls pulsed around him rather quickly and she arched her back as she came undone. With one final thrust and a moan from both of them at once, Bastien spilled into her once more. He collapsed on top of her as they both tried to catch their breath. After a few minutes, Bastien rolled over next to her and turned his head to look at her. Her eyes were closed and her lips were curved into a contented smile. “I love you, Olivia Nevrakis. Hope you liked your hot welcoming.” She opened her eyes and flashed him a sleepy smile. “I love you too, Bas.” He tucked his arm under her head and they both were asleep within minutes.




****************




About a week later, Olivia was at the palace working. Liam had summoned her to help plan a ball for Riley’s birthday. “It’s her first birthday as Queen. I want it to be special.” So there she sat in Liam’s office as they poured over quotes and menu choices and seating charts for what seemed like hours. “I’m sorry Li, but I have to stretch my legs a bit. I’ll be right back.” She got up and went out in the hallway. She rubbed the back of her neck as she paced back and forth. She stopped at the sound of heels walking down the hall behind her and voices. She turned and saw the queen walking towards her with a few other people. Riley smiled at her. Olivia returned the smile and gave her a distinct nod. The queen’s eyes widened as she smiled the duchess. Then she nodded back and continued down the hall. Olivia giggled and went back to Liam’s office.

Writers

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[princessnyria]

( alia bhatt, cis female, she/her ) — here ye, here ye, behold the princess of sunspear, nyria martell. the twenty-four year old is known for being adventurous but has the tendency to be calculating too, which should be expected of the storm of sunspear. ( slender daggers peaking out of the fanned out hem of a vibrant dress, the relishing relief of the first drops of rain after a drought, a quirked brow that goes unnoticed by an enemy who’s already been beaten, the taste of freedom on tongue as you ride towards the setting sun on a sand steed )

BASICS.

full  name:  nyria nymerios martell. title:  princess of dorne. kingdom: dorne. unique title / moniker:  the storm of sunspear. gender:  cis  female. age:  twenty  four. sexuality:  bisexual. abilities:  elemental - rhoynish water magic.

FAMILY.

parents:  prince luras martell  and princess natari martell. siblings: queen dyana targaeryn née martell ( older sister ), prince dariss martell ( older brother ), princess valeria martell née staunton ( sister-in-law ). spouse:  none. children:  none.

FAST FACTS.

she’s definitely a charmer & knows how to turn it on when she wants to.

she adores her sand steed, named cress, takes better care of it than herself.

known for wearing colorful dornish gowns.

she’s vexingly defiant & believes when it comes to those close to her, it’s usually best to practice honesty to the point of bluntness because secrets among people you’re near to can get you killed

while she’s by no means a warrior, her parents did teach her to protect herself so she can hold her own & her father specifically shared with her his love of spears as a weapon

ABOUT.

they say the drought bore down on dorne as one of the longest they’d ever had to weather. that is, until the water broke on her mother’s womb and she was born– her birth was accompanied by a bold storm that rose above sunspear and moved throughout the nation, ending the drought and saving the land from further despair. the baby was named nyria, a shortened derivative of nymeria, an homage to their first princess and the woman who commanded ten thousand ships.

they called her the storm of sunspear and the smallfolk sang praises of an oblivious infant nyria for weeks. they claimed the skies broke with her birth, claimed she was born just to save them from scarcity, that she was glory made flesh - they claimed her for greatness. she became a legend just by being born and she’s never known how to stand in front of a shadow cast so big by happenstance.

she always adored her parents. their weathered eyes winking with vigor and passion when they smiled on her with preciousness, she couldn’t help but be in awe of them both. her mother grew her love of horses and held wisdom and bite in one body. and nyria loved her father especially, always following him around and tugging at his shirt. he loved her in kind, putting a spear in her hand when she was scarcely old enough to grip it all the way and even allowing her to sit beside his throne or on his lap when he was working - it was one of the rare times she could sit still. watching him fight and rule, she thought him the bravest man in all the world.

her valorous nature and adventurous spirit lead her into mischief, even when she was young. her older siblings were twins so nyria was determined to make her own fun, often wandering off. her mother would capture her attention with stories at night and nyria drank them up, relishing in the tales of intrigue and daring, memorizing many by heart.

she lost her parents too young, only being about 12; each year she grows older her remembrance of them grows more and more into absence. she’s managed to fill the emptiness inside with rage. she had always been an excitable girl, and had never much cared for the world outside her beloved dorne. but with her parents taken from her, convinced it was by the targaryen’s, her anger grew. and swelled even higher when she heard her eldest sister had been sold off like some steed to the targaryen’s in the name of “peace” - peace with a destructive empire with maddening rulers ruled by their own madness and greed.

with the death of her parents came the worry for her, the guards being greater and the eyes cutting sharper in her direction. but the way she was treated was not all that changed; nyria changed too. her carefree-nature melted into something more focused. she had to be smarter, like her siblings. she would not wear her emotions across her face like she used to. she would learn to hold her tongue around certain people until she was ready to bite. though she is not great at it, she has grown better through the years, much more calculating. her mind has always been interested in unique military strategies, and she applied that nature with relation to those who were her enemies - and many became her enemy in her mind’s eye with the death of her parents. she no longer knew who she could trust.

now she wears daggers under her dresses, concealed so well that the only time you can truly tell she’s unarmed is when she’s disrobed. now she is learning what it means to find freedom, if not for herself then at least for her people.

as the only eligible child of house martell left for betrothal, her hand was looked upon as advantageous. dorne is different, is allowed certain privileges that other lands are not, dorne is strong and the title of prince, even if it is not a ruling one, is alluring enough that many houses, great and otherwise, attempted to form an alliance through marriage with dorne. but they should’ve looked past her hand and to the anger in her eyes. while many came to vie for her hand, promising plenty to the prince, they did not have what it took to walk among vipers - and a young nyria proved it, placing serpents in their beds, at the feet of their steeds, and sometimes into their minds with doubt-causing whispers. she scared them off and her family was not stupid - they knew what she was doing. but her brother has not seen fit to marry her off yet.

nyria likes her hand unheld and free of a husband. in an attempt at rebellion, in the hopes of keeping her sovereignty longer, she bedded her first love in early adolescence. taking pleasure in her own, she continued her flirtatious trend. and who could resist such a girl, whose tongue can tame vipers when she sees fit but who tears through a room like a hurricane. she beds men and women in kind, though she considers her weakness to be skillful women with an air of danger about them.

it was a few years ago when she got lost traveling. an argument leading her to ride off alone, desperate to get away from the overbearing principles of responsibility. a sand storm found her lost on her own in the desert for days. the heat bore down and the water grew scarce and her anger and frustrating grew, swirling around her and on the second day, half delirious, she laid next to a dry stream as her emotions boiled over. she could scarcely remember the words she whispered to herself as water began to flow back into the stream. she had barely the strength to wet her face and her tongue before she passed out. she was found the next day unconscious next to a free-flowing stream that none could remember being there.

when she awoke back home, she at first tried to convince herself it was a hallucination but she could not ignore the hum in her bones, the difference in…something…or perhaps it had always been there, and she’d never known or chosen to ignore it. she  could not resist the tug towards the library and ancient scrolls on water magic, learning about the rhoynish practice of it. she was particularly interested in how it was able to stop dragons…

now she feels the power crackling inside of her. she cannot do much because she has not managed control. even small acts like attempting to water a plant bring on a flooding of a fountain near her instead. she has told scarcely anyone about it, unsure what to make of it. it kills her to admit it, but she may need help, if she ever wants to make this power useful.

the sadness never goes away, the suffocating pressure of everyone she has lost sitting stiflingly in her chest. she wishes she could be as open as she once was when she was younger but the walls are there now. she questions her capability to love when she already carries so many people in her heart: her parents, her siblings, her people, her land. or when suitors have always said love and marriage and meant power and ownership and control. sometimes she thinks the burning anger inside of her is what is keeping her alive, though she questions if you can live off of fury.

she is leashed chaos, driven by love, emboldened by belief, and made all the more complicated with growing power - not just in the magical sense but also in the way she’s learned to conduct herself politically. her tongue still strikes like a serpent but she waits for it to coil more carefully now.

she is incredibly loyal, loving, and protective of her family, particularly her siblings. growing up, they were all she had. her heart is with dorne and her people. she’s heard the flippant, remarks by those in the other kingdoms about the dornish and their culture and in truth, the talk, and many of them, disgust her. she finds their succession laws foolish, much of their culture barbaric, and their food bland. she is quick to remind everyone that dorne was never conquered by the targaryens, that even fire and blood cannot make the sun bow to it, that in truth, the legacy of the targaryen conquest in dorne is one of failure; dorne only joined the seven kingdoms through marriage. and though it was on dornish terms, nyria’s always thought it a mistake. what do the other kingdoms know of dorne?

WANTED PLOTS & CONNECTIONS.

you can find my post of wanted connections here! please feel free to message me to plot. i prefer tumblr but can do discord as well though i’m not well-versed. and/or like this and i’ll hit you up. 

[iamkatehardy]

Partners in Crime (Kray Twins x Reader)

Request by the sweet @kind-wolf 🖤

Warnings: violence, swearing

Author’s Notes: I’m really sorry I wrote this in such a rush, but it has been hard for me to write long chapters and to write frequently. I hope you like it anyway 🙏 I’m sorry if this has some kind of error, but I wrote this at 2 a.m. in my phone, so something might have slipped...

Leave your feedback and/or requests ❤️

Partners in Crime

You had been dating Reggie for some long months now, the happiest of your life; you knew what his life was like, he made sure he was completely honest with you once things between you both got serious, because he knew he could trust you with his deepest secrets. Reggie wanted you to know what kind of life he had in the shadows, so that you’d be aware of all the dangers you could be facing now that you were with him.

His gangster life wasn’t easy to deal with, but the biggest challenge in your relationship was definitely his brother. Ronald had always been suspicious of females, especially the ones with relevance on his brother’s life, and you were no exception. He kept filling Reggie’s head with his theories about you, about how evil and a gold digger you were. Reggie never believed in his absurd stories, but that didn’t stop him from trying, he kept making up worse theories instead , such as you being a spy for a rival gang. You never knew for sure what he told Reggie, but you knew he despised you, no matter how hard you tried to get along with him. Your efforts seemed worthless for Ron, so you started avoiding him instead.

Reggie tried to make Ron believe you weren’t the woman he thought you were, that you were the one for him, but he wasn’t convinced. He tried to make you believe things would be better as well, once Ron got to know you better, but seeing how hostile he was with you , you just couldn’t believe it.

With each of Ron’s thoughtless and careless actions, Krays’ lives became increasingly harder. Having cops after them was something they were used to, but the other gangsters weren’t nearly as calm or stupid as cops. They were thirsty for blood and had a ruthless sense of justice. Recently they broke in the club, catching Reggie off guard, stabbing him multiple times when leaving only when he seemed to be dead. But your man was stronger than they thought, he survived and was now at home, recovering from the incident, stepping away from London’s underworld for a while.

You always tricked your parents, saying you were going to your best friend’s house, but you went to Reggie’s instead, to check on him and taking até of that stubborn man. Keeping Reggie resting was almost as hard as pleasing Ron, if not harder, but most of times your pants and kisses did the job.

“Don’t worry love, I’m ready for another!” - He smiled and played with your hair, while you were laying by his side, head in his chest. When you heard his words, you lift your head, facing him and scowling at him.

“Don’t say that, not even joking, Reginald Kray! I’d hit you right now, if you weren’t in recovery!” - You then laid your head back in his chest.

“Well, about that, I think I already...”

“Hmmm hmmm” - You interrupted him, shaking your head in disapproval.

“ You didn’t even hear me, woman!” - He kisses your forehead.

“Yet, I am sure I know you well enough to know that I won’t like what you were going to say. Don’t even start thinking of leaving the bed, Reg.”

“Not while you’re in here, hell no..” - He tightened his arms around you.

“Neither when I’m not, Reggie... You heard the doctor, the wounds are still pretty ugly, you need some more time to recover, baby.” - You buried your face in his neck, planting a gentle kiss there.

“You know I have urgent businesses to handle, love.” - He looked down at you.

“No fucking business is more important than your life, period.”

“Oh, you women are so protective, and that’s so lovely.”

“Yes we are, but only of those who we love more than ourselves, Reg.” - You sentence was followed by a painful silence, and you sighed. - “ I know you’re a part of that world, and I know that world is a part of you, there’s no use in trying to change that, and I won’t... But I need you to be safe, to take care. I can’t afford to lose you.”

“There’s only this meeting...”

You got up from his chest, sitting on the bed, your back turned to him, drying your eyes.

“Do you ever listen to me?” - You shook your head, your voice cracking.

“ I can’t let Ron go alone, you know his temper, I can’t trust him with peace negotiations, that would go terribly wrong.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, hurt he didn’t even try to understand your point, and your motives. Reggie winced, sitting in the bed and reaching for your arm.

“(Y/N), babe...”

“ Don’t fucking babe me, Reginald, I’m going home.”

“ Listen , love, I’m out of options here.”

“ I can be an option Reggie.” - You turned to face him.

“I understand, and you’ll always be my priority, but...”

“No, I don’t think you’re understanding.” - You sighed. - “I’ll go with Ron.”

“What?! No. No, no,no.” - He put his hand on his head, as if you said something crazy.

“ Don’t you trust me?”

“ I do (Y/N), with my life, but that’s too dangerous.”

“More dangerous than a paranoid schizophrenic guy, with no medication? No. I’ll have Ron with me, that’ll be alright.”

“That doesn’t put me at ease, things between you and Ron aren’t easy at all.”

“Trust me, I can handle it. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you...” - Your eyes met his and he sighed heavily.

“ Even if I agreed this insane idea, which I haven’t yet, Ron absolutely wouldn’t.”

“Well, don’t ask Reginald, just inform him . He respects and trusts you, he’ll end up accepting it.”

“I’ll think about that, ok? Now come here , my main concern now is to enjoy every moment with you, not discussing this kind of things, alright?”

“Fine, but just know that I won’t give up. “ - You laid by his side, reaching for his lips and kissing him urgently, trying to show how deeply your loved him.

Reggie knew you wouldn’t give up, and you knew a lot about his businesses, so maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. Convincing Ron was the biggest challenge, once again , they discussed it for days , but Reggie ended up successfully talking Ron into it, due his endless persistence. Ron made it clear he wouldn’t stop anyone from killing you, to which Reggie replied that you were a part of him, and how devastated he’d be if anything ever happened to you. Ron didn’t quite understand Reggie’s feelings for you, but he agreed to work with you as if you both were in Reggie’s presence, but in this single mission only, he said.

In the following days your boyfriend got you a gun and taught you how to use it, in case you needed it. You were a fast learner, plus you wanted to show him you could do it, so in no time you were handling a gun as if you had done it for years.

When the day of the meeting came, Reggie begged you to be careful. It felt as if your roles had been reversed, usually it was the other way around : you begging him to take care and come home safe, so that you could spend the rest of your days with him. You warmly kissed him goodbye, and then left his home, getting in the car where Ron was impatiently waiting, smoking his cigar. The ride was long and painfully silent.

When you arrived the place of the meeting, you turned to Ron, who looked back at you in disgust.

“Frank , could you please leave me and Mr. Kray alone for a minute?” - You asked politely, giving the driver a smile. He obeyed, disappearing from your sight. - “Alright Ron...”

He just grunted, staring at you in confusion.

“ I know you hate me, though I don’t know exactly why... And I also know you’ve been sparing no effort to make Reggie get me out of his life. Just know that I won’t let it happen,not so easily.” - You narrowed your eyes. - “ I tried, and will keep trying, to keep things civilised between us, not for you, not for me, but for your brother, who I love so damn much. I won’t be leaving, Ronald. I love Reggie, and you are his brother, so I know in your way you love him too. I would never want to bring you both apart, please understand that. I just want peace, that’s all.”

“We won’t ever be friends, (Y/N).”

“We don’t need to be, even if it was better for us to try.”

“ You should fear what may happen to you.” - He interrupted you.

“ Well, Ron, dear, let me give you the news : I don’t fear whatever may happen to me, neither I fear you, or anyone, just for the record. I’ll do whatever it fucking takes to be with your brother, who happens to be the love of my life, regardless of what you, my parents, the pope, or anyone thinks/wants. So just fucking deal with it.” - You pointed your finger at his chest and then got out of the car. - “Now let’s finish this. And try not to go psycho in the middle of the damn meeting Ron, or I swear to God I’ll shoot you, and believe it or not, I already have more than motives to.”

He followed you in silence, processing whatever the hell just happened, and everything you said.

Arriving the room you were both invited to seat by a broad man, whose black eyes showed no sign of him having a soul within him.

He first talked about how stupid and naïve it was for the Krays to believe they’d have peace after some incidents they caused, then he just kept roasting them, getting worse word after word, spitting venom every time. At this point your blood was boiling already, your expression visibly hardening. The men kept talking about how unstable, lunatic and a freak of nature Ron was, and that he should’ve never make it out of his mother’s womb, he then started insulting Reggie, calling him a delusional pussy who sent his bitch to deal with his problems. And he kept on, he kept on for some good minutes, enjoying insulting them and insulting you. The men then turned around, pouring himself a drink.

In that moment you took the gun Reggie gave you, while Ron was distracted trying to keep it together. You got up, approaching the man.

“Just one more thing...” - The man turned and you aimed at his chest, he laughed in in your face. The anger and rage took over you and you pulled the trigger, not once, not twice, but as many times as the bullets you had, even after he was lifeless on the floor.

“Have you lost your mind?” - Ron shouted at you, getting the gun out of your hand . - “ What about the...” - He made an high pitch voice, mimicking you .- “Try not to go Psycho, Ron, or I’ll fucking shoot you!” - He then mimicked Reggie.- “ Oh Ron, she’ll go with you so that someone keeps your cool when you get mad!” - He went back to his normal voice.- “ All this and YOU fucking shot the guy and start a gang war?!”

“Ron, you heard him, we wouldn’t have peace anyway. And I wouldn’t let him talk shit about Reggie and you , and despise your honor and name like that! That’s now how I work Ron, loyalty and protecting the ones I love are everything for me. He would insult someone I care for , just like that, and get away with it!”

Ron took of his glasses, scratching his eyes, weighting what you had just said. You talked like family would, and that confused the shit out of him. He wanted do hate you, but you did and said things he valued a lot. He put his glasses back on, sighing and willing to thank you for your loyalty, offering you his own.

“What are you doing?” - You asked, as he removed the bullets from the chamber of his gun, putting them on your and giving it back to you.

“ No one will know you did it, and if anyone asks, I did it, not you.” - He removed his jacket, placing it over the body. - “Your jacket, scarf and whatever clothes you don’t need, please. We can’t leave him here.”

“What?! No! I stand for what I’ve done!” - You have him some of your clothes.

“Listen (Y/N), I don’t doubt you do, but I think you’re no idea what consequences these acts bring. I’m ready for them, and you’re not.” - He wrapped the body in the clothes.

You didn’t know exactly what to say, as you didn’t expect him to behave like that.

“No, that’s wrong! I can’t let you pay for my actions.”

He got up, getting closed and putting his hair back in place.

“That’s What family does (Y/N), we have each other’s backs, no matter what, and sooner or latter that’s what we’ll be. Family.”

“ Oh Ron...” - You closed your eyes and then hug him right, and for a second he replied, even if he hated displays of affection.

He slapped your shoulder lightly.

“Now come on, we’ve got a body to get a rid of, partner!”

“But Ron?”

He was now back to the task of dragging the body.

“Hmm?”

“ I’ll have to be honest with Reggie, I won’t lie to the man I love.”

“Be honest then, but I’m sure as Hell that he’ll agree with the plan of protecting you, it’s the best for everyone.”

You helped him dragging the body.

“ And Ron... Thank you, for trying to protect me, and for all the stupid things you sometimes do, that I know that you do to protect Reggie as well. It means a lot.”

[thedeviltohisangel]

How The Night Changes//10//Can’t Get What We Want Without Knowing

Glimpses into the first six weeks of the twins lives & the intimate reunion of Duncan and Olivia.

Smut Warning

catch up at the masterlist in my bio!

send any requests/ideas for these two my way!

The first night in California was an eventful one. Duncan couldn’t sleep. The mattress was too soft and the blankets were too fluffy and warm. Olivia was draped over him with her shirt half on from the feeding they had just completed and he could watch his babies sleeping peacefully in their bassinets from his position in bed. Everything felt like it was in its rightful place. But every time a floorboard creaked or the wind whistled through the wind, he thought it was someone coming to haul him back to DC and back to his cell. Olivia had said to him before that people like them don’t get happy endings and this certainly was feeling like a happy ending. It felt too good to be true. He sighed deeply and buried his face in his wife’s hair to make sure she really was with him.

“What’s wrong? Is it the babies?” Olivia sat up immediately as Duncan’s touch startled her awake.

“No, no, they’re fine. I’m sorry, baby, I was just getting comfortable.”

“I haven’t shared a bed with anyone in nine months. Just startled me.” She fell back down and was back to her slight snoring within minutes. Duncan felt like his breath was caught in his throat at her words. She hadn’t meant them in a mean way, it was just a statement of fact, but it hurt that she had gone through an adjustment without him and now it was another adjustment to have him back in her daily life. It made him feel even more burdensome than he already did. Duncan just hoped that he would eventually feel like he fit into his new little family in the way he had always hoped he would.

----

“They are really getting the hang of latching and suckling,” Olivia mused as they sat on the couch together as a family. A cooking show was playing on the tv, Duncan holding Lydia against his chest for skin to skin in one corner with Olivia feeding Theo in the other. His little hand was resting against her chest and she was completely in love.

“You look like a total natural with them, Livvy.”

“Look at you, Papa Bear. Our little princess is perfectly at ease with you.” Duncan blushed a little at her words of encouragement. It was easy to see the connection Olivia had formed with their babies. She gave them nourishment and they looked at her like she hung the stars in the sky. As soon as they heard her voice or smelled her milk, they were taken by her. Nothing else mattered to them besides their mother. “Ready to be burped, little munchkin?” Theo detached from her nipple and offered his mother a reflexive smile as she supported him on her shoulder and began to gently pat at his back.

“I love the little smiles they have. I know the doctor said it’s just a reflex but they are already so beautiful.” Duncan lost himself in the moment, gently tracing the shell of his daughter’s ear and breathing in her scent. He was obsessed with everything to do with his little babies. Every sound they made brought a smile to his face. Every movement made him so proud that they were strong and ready to get moving. Theo had accidentally punched him in the face the other day when he was changing his diaper. Duncan is proud to admit that it was solid little punch.

“Should we try putting Lyddie in her little bouncer?” For the first few days, neither of them had wanted to put the babies down but they had all these accessories that good money had been spent on so they needed to use them eventually. They had bought a pale pink one for their princess with a little heart shaped pillow for her to rest her head on. She squirmed a little at losing the warmth of her father but settled down when she was in the seat and Duncan turned on the rocker and the little shapes dangling in front of her caught her eye. “Oh look at her, Donut!”

“Laser focus. Like a true Shepherd.” He sat on the floor next to the bouncer and gently stroked over his daughter’s little feet. Theo let out a particularly loud burp which made Olivia gasp and Duncan turned to look at her with alarm.

“He just spit up all over everything,” she groaned. She could feel it dribbling down her back and knew that it was on the couch and probably all over her baby boy.

“Okay, you go quickly change and wipe yourself down and get Theo a new onesie. I’ll get these two ready for a little sponge bath.”

“Maybe we should’ve had just one baby at a time,” she joked as she passed the messy boy to his father and made her way upstairs to quickly rinse her back, change her shirt and get all the supplies needed for a little baby wipe down. Once she made it back down, she laid out a fluffy towel for their babies to lie down on as she gently swiped at their skin with a soapy, warm washcloth.

“Does it feel good to be clean, my munchkins? Feel good to know mommy loves you so much?” They looked at Duncan when he talked. It thrilled him that they were able to recognize his voice as he had initially been so worried that his time away while they were in the womb would have prevented that from happening. “I can’t wait to feel mommy love on me again.”

“Duncan!” It was agony to have Olivia so close to him and his freedom back but not be able to celebrate by worshiping her body. They had had their conjugal visits but sometimes they had just used them to talk or catch up on the sleep they weren’t getting since they weren’t together. And as Olivia’s pregnancy had progressed, she had just lost the energy to roll around between the sheets with him. It turned him on to see her being such a good mom and it turned her on to see him being such a good dad. This provided for quite the predicament between the two of them as they still had to wait for her to hit the six week mark. “Soon Daddy will get my loving. Promise.”

----

Lydia nearly jumped out of her mother’s arms when Duncan sneezed across the table.

“Say ‘bless you’ dada,” Olivia whispered as she kissed her little nose.

“Noises are startling them now. It’s so cute watching them jump like that,” Duncan mused with a smile as he used his foot to rock Theo who was in his bouncer on the floor and sleeping peacefully while his parents ate breakfast. “That baby sling I ordered came in the mail today. Should I try to put it on?”

“I might be impregnated watching you carry a baby around in a little sling but that sounds like a good plan for the morning.” He smirked at her words, happy he could still have such an effect on his wife after all the not-so-sexy things they had been through the past two weeks. From spit up to dirty diapers to losing their minds at odd hours of the morning because their child was crying, they had really seen it all with each other. And it had only served to bring them closer together. Duncan came back with the sling wrapped around him, open and ready for a baby to be in it. “Okay, Lyddie gets first go since Theo is asleep.” Olivia helped Duncan get their daughter in the sling, Lydia falling asleep as soon as her head was rested against her papa’s chest.

“I feel the most at peace I have in awhile,” he whispered as he bounced his hips slowly to keep her asleep.

“Donut…” Olivia leaned over the baby and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “We’re gonna be okay. Everything we’ve been through, yes it’s left scars, but we’re together again. That’s all we need in order to be okay.”

The next morning they had a doctor’s appointment, the Shepherd family sneaking in the back to avoid the clouds of photographers that had taken to following them everywhere. They all wanted Olivia’s opinion on her mother’s pregnancy and they were all hoping for the first pictures of the twins and of Duncan since he got out of jail. Olivia and Duncan had both agreed that they wanted the reveal of their family to be on their own terms and within their own time. They were sticking to their guns on it.

“Well, both of the babies look like their weight is great and they’re very responsive to you and me. I think they’re doing wonderfully. Just make sure that everyone that will come into close or prolonged contact with them is up to date on their vaccinations. Their immune systems are still developing so they might be a little susceptible for a bit.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Wheatley. We’ll make sure to call if we have any questions.”

“Speaking of, how are you feeling, Olivia? This is normally the time the adrenaline rush of being a mother starts to wear off and we look for any emotional clues that could mean postpartum.”

“Oh. I hadn’t even thought about that really. I’ve been so busy with the twins I haven’t taken stock of myself.” She chuckled nervously at the idea that she had let her care fall to the wayside during the past couple of weeks. “I’m feeling okay. No mood swings that I’ve noticed or anything like that. What do you think, Duncan?” He looked up from where he had been situating the babies back into their car seats.

“I don’t think so. You’ve been feeling fine breastfeeding and you said you weren’t swollen or anything down there. I think everyone is progressing nicely.” Olivia reached over and gave his hand a little squeeze. Even if things started to derail, it wouldn’t matter. Olivia and Duncan were together and nothing could change that.

----

Olivia came in from the kitchen to see the twins on their tummies and him mirroring their position in front of them.

“Are the three of you enjoying tummy time?” she giggled as she took out her phone to snap a picture of the sweet moment.

“We are, mama. Tell mommy how you’re building up your strength.” The twins didn’t do much by way of responding to their father but their eyes were trained on him like nothing could ever make them look away.

“They’ve been enjoying studying their handsome daddy recently.” Olivia came and sat cross legged next to her little family. “They love you so much.” At the sound of their mother’s voice, they turned their attention to her.

“Aren’t we just the best parents ever?” Duncan joked.

“I think our babies loving us certainly puts us on the right track. Though they could never understand the half of it when it comes to how much I love them.” She reached over and brushed some hair out of Theo’s face, the boy smiling at his mother’s touch. His sister began to fuss a bit, Duncan swooping to the rescue and gathering her into his arms. “She’s probably a little gassy. Her stomach was bloated last night.”

“The little massage worked, right?”

“Yeah, there’s some baby lotion over by the pack and play if you want.” Olivia had rolled Theo onto his back and was shaking a little toy, watching him try to grab it as Duncan took care of Lydia. Duncan lathered his hands in lotion and used the lightest of touches as he gently moved his fingers in a clockwise motion around Lydia’s stomach. She calmed down and watched, almost sleepily, as his fingers worked their magic and a giant burp came out of her mouth.

“Wow! You must feel better now little love,” Duncan laughed as Lydia looked like her own burp had startled her. Olivia chuckled from her spot on the floor.

“Theo was just telling me how he wants to get some fresh air,” she said as she lifted her son and cradled him against her chest.

“He does?”

“He said that we bought such a nice double stroller and we haven’t used it yet and now feels like the time.”

“Well, Lyddie is telling me that she agrees.” Olivia took both babies upstairs to get them in some warmer clothes as Duncan went to the garage to get the stroller ready for the babies. It was black with side by side seats so the twins could lie down and look up at the sky as they explored the neighborhood.

“We should go to the little baby store downtown one day this week. They had a lot of cute toys and clothes in the window when I drove by the other day.” Olivia had her arm looped through Duncan’s as he pushed the stroller down the sidewalk, Secret Service forming a perimeter around the little family.

“My mom said she has a cargo shipment on it’s way with accessories. We can wait until that comes before we do more shopping,” he replied. Olivia’s impulse buying with the babies had reached a level he had never seen before.

“If you don’t want to go then I will go by myself.” She didn’t need Duncan telling her what she could or could not buy for her children. “The doctor thinks they can start using pacifiers now so I want to go and buy some extras to have on hand.” Olivia was trying not to linger on the little bit of annoyance at the tone Duncan had just used with her. She thinks that in their first days and weeks together, she had been so wrapped up in being with her husband and her new babies that nothing could break her bubble. Now that had worn off a bit. Little things were starting to bother, the same way they had before he had gone to jail, and it hurt more now. In their time apart, she had forgotten that their relationship had cracks and issues. She just hoped, for the sake of their babies, they chose not to make themselves known too soon.

----

“Good morning my little munchkin!” Olivia cooed as she bent over the bassinet to reach for Theo. He was visibly excited at seeing his mother and this was a new action that both twins had taken to doing. It was thrilling for her and Duncan to have their babies recognize them and be happy to see them. It was all they could have ever hoped for. “You’re so ready to start the day little man, aren’t you?” Theo cooed as she rubbed her nose against and breathed in the smell of her baby boy. The sounds produced by him and his sisters had also just started and Olivia could not wait to discover all the sounds her kids were going to make in the near future. She started with changing his diaper, noticing a little bit of redness that signaled a tiny diaper rash.

“You want scrambled or over easy?” Duncan called from downstairs.

“Over easy. Don’t break my yolk!” She kept Theo free from a diaper as they went downstairs, the doctor saying last time that letting the babies air out from time to time was beneficial should irritation occur.

“Look at that handsome devil,” Duncan said with a smile as his eyes fell on his baby boy.

“Handsome devil is starting to get a little rash so he’s going commando this morning.”

“If he has my genes, which he does, then he can be naked with pride.” Olivia laughed at that.

“You’re something else.”

----

“Look, Livvy, she’s holding it!” Olivia quickly came back into the living room to see Lydia had a tight grip on the rattle Duncan had handed her and was waving it around to produce the sound. It was the baby’s first time holding an object all by herself.

“So big and strong, princess! I’m so proud of you!” Olivia bent down to kiss the top of her head. “You can play with so many more toys now.” Theo perked up from where he was resting against her chest, craning his neck back to try and catch a glimpse of his mother.

“And look at little man. Doing acrobatics to see his pretty mommy.” Instinctively, Duncan reached his hand to cup the back of his son’s head but pulled back in surprise when he supported himself enough to catch a peek of his mother. “He’s supporting his own head more and more everyday. Our babies need to stop growing up.”

“I know. It makes me happy to see them growing strong and being happy but it means they won’t be little much longer.” Olivia pulled Theo closer against her at the thought.

“It’s almost 10:30, we should probably start packing them up for the doctor’s.” Getting out the door with two little ones was sometimes challenging. It made it more so if one of them decided to poop or spit up right as they were heading out the door. Thankfully, that didn’t happen this time and they were settled into their car seats and on their way to get their second round of shots with minimal fussing. It didn’t last long as the vaccines made the twins cry without abandon. It always broke Olivia and Duncan’s heart to know their babies were confused and in pain but they also knew it was necessary for them to be healthy and safe.

“Don’t cry, little munchkin, mama has you,” Olivia cooed as she bounced Lydia and Duncan bounced Theo in an attempt to calm them down before walking out the back door of the office. They still hadn’t released any pictures of the babies to the public but that didn’t stop more and more photographers from lining up to try and catch the first one.

“Theo’s onesie looks like it’s a little tight. Like he’s grown overnight.”

“My little, baby boy,” Olivia said sadly as Lydia calmed down and she went to look at her son’s clothing. “Donut, this makes me so sad.”

“C’mere, lovely. We can keep some of the clothes to remember when they were this little and then you can buy so many more clothes.”

“I do want to get them more matching outfits,” she muttered as she weighed her husband’s words.

“Let’s stop on the way home then. Will that help?” Just last week he had made a flippant remark about buying for the babies but he realized now he was a dick for doing so. This was his way of apologizing.

“Only if you promise not to complain every five minutes.” He thinks he could suck it up for her.

----

“Who said they were craving spaghetti?” Olivia came back into the dining room carry two plates. Duncan was seating with one baby on each of his thighs, loving the new ways he could hold and cuddle them now that they could hold their own heads.

“I’ll trade a baby for a plate.” They completed the exchange successfully, Theo smiling at his mother as she brought him into his arms. Their smiles were of recognition of their parents now and the two were obsessed with coaxing them out of their children. She bent down to place him in a little bouncy seat while they ate dinner but once she was out of his line of sight, his fist went into his mouth and a little cry snuck past.

“Oh, baby! Why you sad? You want to watch mommy eat her dinner?” As soon as she bent back down so he could see her, his crying stopped and his smile returned. He began gurgling as though he was trying to tell her to stay exactly where she was and not disappear like that ever again. “Donut, can you pass me one of his stuffed toys? I think he might be bored in his little bouncer.” Duncan stood from where he had been getting Lydia situated in hers to grab two purple stuffed toys from the basket by the TV. Both babies eagerly gripped the new item from their father and seemed content and entertained enough for their parents to eat dinner.

“I saw an advertisement for an infant CPR class at the hospital downtown. Do you think that’s something you would be interested in doing together?” Duncan asked as he twirled some spaghetti around a fork and slid it into his mouth.

“It does, actually. Maybe next week when we are testing out the nanny we can go do it while she’s here.” Olivia was trying not to talk too much about the nanny situation. It was giving her anxiety to think about someone taking care of her babies that wasn’t her or Duncan. She had already asked Henry if one of the agents could stay behind to make sure everything went well. He had assured her that they would keep an even more watchful eye on the twins than they did her.

The babies were put down for the night soon after, Olivia and Duncan deciding to tackle cleaning up the kitchen before bed so they could snuggle a bit longer in the morning. Somewhere between loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters, they had started kissing. Duncan lifted her up onto the island and took his place between her legs. It felt like it had been forever since they had kissed in such a way. Olivia felt herself growing more and more eager with every press of his lips and swipe of his tongue against hers. She fisted her fingers in his shirt and tried to pull him even closer to her.

“Feels so good to kiss you again, baby,” Duncan whispered. It felt like bliss. Not only had he been starved of her during his time in prison but had also been deprived of her touch and love during the past weeks of her recovery from the twins. Even just heavy petting and making out was leaving him breathless.

“We can do more than just kissing, Donut,” she whispered back as she gained access to his throat and sucked hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck, Livvy, are you sure? You said the other day that you were feeling sore again.”

“I’ve missed my husband.” Tears were glistening in her eyes. “We only got one night together as a proper married couple before you left and then we’ve been parents since. We haven’t had a night to be a husband and wife. A night to be Duncan and Olivia.” She had kept every haunting thought about their relationship to herself for so long. Perhaps too long.

“Baby…” Duncan nuzzled his nose against hers and tried to use the softest of touches to ease any of her fears. He didn’t know that Olivia had spent her time alone wondering if her and Duncan had actually been ready to get married and have kids. If they hadn’t been faced with his arrest, would they have still taken the same course of action.

“We’ve gone through so much change in such a short amount of time, Duncan. I don’t ever want us to lose each other and the love we had when we started and how special it is because of it.” Duncan was upset that she had kept these fears and worries to herself and hadn’t shared them. His nine months away had made him feel less than inadequate but it was jarring to be faced with the proof of it.

“I’m never going to stop loving you. I’ll have the same passion in my heart until the day I die. I have since Paris.” Everything had felt simpler then. But now, with a ring on his finger and two babies upstairs, everything felt complete and right. Of course that was only until they started planning for their next baby, he owed her at least three more, but having a family with Olivia was everything he could have ever dreamed of.

“You want to go upstairs? I think I need to just love on you for a bit.” Her voice was soft. She wanted to express her love for Duncan as physically as possible and she wanted to feel his love wash over her. Nothing calmed her racing heart and mind like being with him. He helped her down from the countertop and held her hand as they made their way upstairs to a guest room. The babies were asleep in their room and they didn’t want to disturb them.

“I’ve loved watching you be a mom, the best mom, but I’ve missed seeing you like this,” he whispered as he helped her shed her clothes, his already in a pile on the floor. He ran his hands up her arms before they cupped her cheeks and she met him halfway for a longing kiss. It felt foreign to have her bare breasts pressed against his chest but the way her nipples peaked at the sensation was welcome. Just the brush of them against his skin was enough to have gasps of breath escape her lips. “Seems our stamina has faded a bit.” Duncan chuckled as he backed her up against the bed and fell on top of her onto it.

“It’s been too long, Donut,” she mused as she nipped at his jaw. His hand gently pressed against her shoulder so she lied flat on her back and then trailed slow, lingering kisses down her to thighs.

“You wet for me, baby?” As she felt the first of his touches to her soaked pussy, Olivia was confronted by the idea that she hadn’t looked down there since her birthday. She had no idea what it looked like. It could be horrid.

“Duncan, stop!” She clenched her thighs closely together, almost clipping his chin in the process, and scrambled backwards to the top of the bed.

“What’s wrong? Was I hurting you?” Duncan felt panicked. Maybe he had pushed too far or been to eager. His heart was hammering away at the idea that he had tried too much, too soon and been the cause of her pain.

“No, no, I just haven’t looked down there. I just realized I haven’t looked and seen if it still looks okay since I had the twins. I didn’t want you to be disgusted by me.”

“Baby…” He crawled further up the bed so he could look her in the eyes. “You could never, ever disgust me. Everything down there looks just fine, I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Besides, your beautiful, pretty, amazing pussy gave me my two little babies. How could I not worship it?” She kissed him as a thank you for his words.

“Maybe we skip that part tonight?” Olivia had felt better at his words of insistence but still felt the anxiety in her chest over Duncan’s face being between her legs. Not because she didn’t believe him or didn’t trust him but for her own journey to self-love and acceptance, she needed to move a bit slower.

“Whatever you need.” Of course he wanted to please her and worship her, he always did, but he was more concerned with respecting her than anything else. He’d wait a lifetime if that’s what it took, or if it never happened again that would be okay too. The only thing that mattered was Olivia and his children being in his life. No matter the capacity. Duncan was fully hard already just from kissing her and the brief, mouthwatering glimpse of her that he had gotten.

“Can you make sure you use a condom this time? I know the chances are slim to none but I could do without some big surprises for a bit,” she laughed as he had already lined himself up and looked ready to go. He groaned but pulled back regardless and disappeared from the room for a brief moment in order to dig through the bathroom cabinet for what he needed.

“Okay, I’m back and ready to go!” he cheered, Olivia laughing at his cock which was happily bouncing as he made his way back over to her on the bed. She smiled into his kiss as pure elation filtered between them. It felt like Dunc & Liv again. Like the two kids who had fallen in love in front of the Eiffel Tower. The two kids who had found each other in their darkest moments. The two kids who had taken the plunge to build a family and a life of their own. “You’ll stop me if anything feels off, right?”

“Promise, Donut.” He moved at a glacial pace as he slid inside of her, the feeling of being one with her again almost enough to reduce him to tears. Oh how he had missed her in ways he could have never imagined.

“Never leaving you again,” he grunted as he thrusted into her slowly. Now was not the time for ruthless fucking, they would be there again someday, but for slow love making. Two people finding their way back to each other, where they belonged.

“Fuck, Duncan. I love you so much,” she panted into his ear as he buried his face into her neck. They both came quickly and it felt like a weight had been lifted off their shoulders. It was as though the universe had been waiting for Duncan and Olivia to find their way back to each other. Now, everything felt right with the world.

“I missed being your husband, Livvy.” Duncan pulled his face from her neck to reveal that he had been crying. “I missed you so much and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I missed out on nine months of time where we could’ve been together.”

“You’re with me now, Donut, and with our babies. That’s all that matters.”

“We’re gonna get our forever. Our happily ever after.” She kissed him softly and rubbed her nose against his.

“I think we’ve already got it.”

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