#so there's no obvious pressure pushing against my bladder

[doesnotcontain]

I've realized belatedly that whatever the fuck my bladder is doing now might be a side effect of the surgery itself the same way it was last time, and therefore is permanent

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wasted 2

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Part of The Club AU

You’ve reached the next plain of existence. That special level of drunk where you forget just enough of your doubts and problems to truly unwind. You don’t think about your dress riding up or how the strap of your dress slips down your arm. You are free.

There’s only one problem. You have to break the seal. You set aside your empty cup and shout above the remix of Rihanna to Heidi and Faye. Neither of them offer to come with you as they bounce to the beat. Oh well, you can handle a trip to the bathroom.

You turn on your clunky heels, wobbling a little before you get your feet right. You steady yourself and strut between the dancers pulsating around you. You giggle as you see a particularly eager guy grinding on a girl without a sliver of interest.

You mind the step on the way down from the dancefloor. You don’t want to be kicked out for being overserved. Again. 

You stroll past the bar and eye the man behind it as he shakes a metal mixer. You could probably go for another drink once you pee. You just need to clear the way.

You head towards the bright doorway on the opposite end of the bar and as you peer around the line of stools, your eyes meet those of another. You recognise the man from earlier, even as his face is shrouded in shadows. He’s the reason your skin is sticky with vodka and juice. Is he checking you out?

You shrug it off and roll your eyes. That’s the thing about clubs, they’re always full of creepers. If the guy wanted to buy you a drink, he had a perfect opportunity earlier.

You refocus on your destination. Your bladder makes it hard to forget. You sigh as there’s no queue for the bathroom and you quickly dip into the only free stall. You pull down your panties and hover above the seat as you urge yourself to let go.

As the pressure lets out, you hang your head back, eyelids drooping as your vision doubles. You feel good, very good. Why can’t you feel like this all the time?

You finish up and stumble out to the sinks. You blink at your reflection as you wash your hands. A girl comes out of the other stall and wavers up beside you. She looks at you in the mirror and grins. 

“I love your dress,” she chimes.

“Oh, thanks,” you slur, “like yours too.”

You shut off the sink and grab some paper towel. You dry your hands and float out of the bathroom, high on the compliment. The best kind of praise is that from drunk girls in bathrooms.

You fan yourself as the heat of the crowd surrounds you. The coolness of the bathroom makes it even more obvious as you emerge. You should get a breath of cold air, maybe sober up before you get a refill.

You grip your purse, keeping it from bouncing on your hip, and sidle along to the stairs. You go down to the door and greet the bouncer with a smile. You look at your hand and hold it out.

“Washed my stamp off,” you chirp, “please and thanks.”

He doesn’t say a word as he presses another inky smear to the back of your hand. You wink and go out onto the street. The line is all but gone as the early hours tick by. Last call soon. 

You lean against the brick and look up at the starry sky. Ugh, you’ll have to pay for a cab home. Or maybe you can crash at Heidi’s, she lives only a block away. That’s the thing about her, you always end up at the place closest to her apartment.

Another figure emerges from the club doors. You don’t look over as it blurs the edge of your vision. You push your head back and blow out a vodka laced breath. The man passes by, only then catching your full attention. 

He turns and stops, leaning beside you against the wall as he tucks his hands in his pockets. You peek over at him and sneer. It’s the same guy.

“What do you want?” You snarl.

“I should ask you the same,” his voice is rocky, timbre so deep it rolls through you.

“What’s that mean?” You ask and quickly seal your lips against a hiccup.

“Seems like you’re enjoying yourself,” he remarks, “I got something that could make it even better.”

You squint and shake your head. “I don’t wanna suck your dick, dude.”

“Not exactly what I’m offering but you might change your mind once you get a hit.”

“What are you fuckin’ rambling about?” 

You push yourself away from the wall and grab at your purse. You flip the flap up and fish around inside. You ground your heel into the pavement and pull out the pack of smokes; another careless purchase. You only really smoke when you’re drinking.

“Shit’s bad for you,” he tuts as he watches you. You meet his gaze and almost dissolve at the intensity. He slips his hand out of his pocket, giving a peek of a small baggie of tablets, “wanna roll?”

You keep from flicking on the lighter as you consider his offer. You don’t really have the money to be spending on pills. Besides, you’re already pretty fucked up.

“Shit in there is watered down” he tucks the bag back in his pocket, “This stuff’s pure. It’ll get you goin’.”

You let the cigarette dangle between your lips as you stare skeptically.

“I owe you a drink, right?” He smirks.

[eggsideblog]

Eggman has to pee while traveling and there's no toilets around for miles. Needing to go asap, he stops the Egg Mobile when he spots some bushes. He jumps out and goes behind them and doesn't expect me to follow

When he hears me coming up behind him, he turns around and smirks, asking if I've come to help him pee. He's not surprised with how I've held it for him multiple times by now. But he doesn't expect me to approach and immediately start pressing down on his bladder

He groans deeply at the firm pressure on his already achy bladder from how long he'd been holding it in to find the right spot. "Ugh fuck, I didn't mean just yet, I-I need to get out of my bodysuit first!" But I just pull him against me and push harder with a cheeky smirk on my face

"Please- you can help but I just need to get it off first..." He whines from the sensitivity of his full and heavy bladder. It's cute how he squirms pathetically and his legs tremble as he can't even begin to remove his bodysuit with this position and how I'm grabbing onto him

It's his mistake for not just having a zipper on his bodysuit! Having to literally take his bodysuit that had full body coverage off by pulling it down to the legs to pee due to the lack of zipper takes way too long and he's been holding it for too long, he needs to pee right now!

"Oohhh careful, you're gonna make me piss myself..." He grits his teeth and sucks in a deep breath as he tries to hold it as hard as he can but his bladder feels like it's about to burst at this point but I don't stop massaging it when he warns me because that's the goal!

The rubbing makes it ache and throb so hard, threatening to leak any second. He whines worriedly, saying he needs to get the bodysuit off because he's running out of time. I can keep doing this to him once he's taken it off! But I keep pressing on his poor overfull bladder relentlessly

I remind him that he said he needed to go really bad and I'm just helping him. Finally, a little trickle dribbles out the tip and his eyes widen and then squeeze shut. The floodgates open and it all comes squirting out uncontrollably, full force with his bodysuit still on

"Argh, fuck you! I told you, now I'm making a mess!" He's blushing and flustered and furious that I'd make him wreck his clothes here and now but he can't stay mad for long because I've still got him in a hug and keep rubbing and pushing down on his bladder

"Aahhh, feels so good..." He moans deeply as he gives in. The pleasurable pressure of how sensitive it is combined with the relief of the release at last is so intense and has him panting and sighing from the overwhelming satisfaction getting him all worked up and aroused

Pushing down on it makes him piss even harder, it squirts out in a thick hot burst, drips all down the legs of the bodysuit, and pools in the crotch area as it easily soaks through the thin fabric of his underwear. It gets him weak in the knees, they'd buckle without my support!

He worries briefly again when he realizes someone could look over and see him pissing himself now, or even just walking past the bush and hearing the gushing and his moans would immediately make it obvious what's happening but he just can't stop and it feels great

When he's finally emptied his bladder, he feels so much lighter and so much relief! But then his focus goes back to the fact that his bodysuit is full of piss. "Damn it, look what you've done! How am I supposed to go back out there like this?" He doesn't have anything to change into!

He takes off his bodysuit and it's so drenched inside, it spills when he pulls it down to his ankles. But there's a huge dark wet patch on his underwear that's absolutely soaked from the copious amounts of piss he just unloaded into them but he can't take those off

He has to rush back into his Egg Mobile in just his wet underwear and he's grumpy about spoiling the seat cushion and having to ask Orbot and Cubot to clean it. He blushes when I just giggle and say he looked so cute pissing himself and that he knows he liked it lol 💜

[sweet-tboy]

Been thinking a lot about diapers lately...

There are so many reasons they appeal to me and they are hard to pin down. There's of course the obvious tie in of omorashi....my dom forcing me to drink to capacity and then telling me to get dressed because we're going out. Me begging that I need to use the bathroom before we go or I'll have an accident. Telling him I don't want to embarrass myself in public. My dom pulling out a thick, fluffy diaper, and telling me that he already planned for that. The diaper will make sure no one else knows about my accident. I'm bright red and humiliated, insisting that I don't want to wear it. Telling him I can be good. Him pushing me down onto my knees, then my back, then sliding my legs apart, pressing meanly on my full bladder.

"I know you'll be good, baby. This is just so no one else sees what's meant for just me."

And of course, I can't say no to him. My tdick is already plumping up from how he looks at me as he pulls down my boxers and slides the diaper underneath me. He gives me a few quick jerks just to hear me whine and then tapes the soft padding up. He presses the palm of his hand right over my pussy and laughs as I whine and arch into his touch, unable to feel anything through the diaper.

He takes me to dinner. He orders us a bottle of wine, an appetizer, and my food. I'm wiggling in my seat from how the alcohol goes right through me, but he seats me with a hard look when I try to get up. I guess the bathroom is still off limits. Dinner drags on forever, with him softly encouraging me to finish the bottle of wine that we're splitting, and then encouraging even more water as he orders us dessert. Squirming in my seat to only brings his flushed gaze to me, and rubs the diaper against my dick, working me up further.

When he finally pays the bill and takes me to the car, my knees feel weak. My bladder is full to bursting and I can't focus on anything he's saying. The seatbelt puts more pressure on my bladder and I whine softly. If I can just make it home...I squeal when he reaches over and presses down on my bladder.

"You look like you're hurting, baby. You look desperate. I thought you were going to piss yourself during dinner." I let out a garbled moan and try to get away from his hand as it rubs circles on my lower abdomen. The car is still in park. A little bit of pee spurts out and I sob, feeling the little bit of warmth spread all over my pussy. The diaper soaks it up but keeps it close to me and I try to grind down for friction on my clit but it just presses his hand harder into my bladder.

"C'mon baby, you know you want to. Be a good boy and piss yourself for me. The diaper will keep you from making a mess in Sir's car."

And my Dom's command is enough to convince my body to let go. Warmth floods my diaper, making the flow come stronger and faster. It moves towards my ass, hissing against the diaper 's padding. His hand has slid between my legs to feel my diaper swell as I piss myself for him and he grinds the wet padding up into my clit, making me moan and hump his hand as the last of the stream peters out.

I'm still limp in the passenger seat, panting for breath as I come down from pissing myself in a diaper for my Dom. My dick is incredibly hard and I can feel my pussy throb. He leans over and growls right into my ear:

"Let's see how many more accidents that diaper can hold."

[ofallthingsnasty]

every bit

Pairing: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic x F!Reader Tags: non con, piss, piss drinking, omorashi, oral sex (fem receiving), yandere, established relationship (not wholesome) Word count: 1.2k Note: Mind the tags. First post! Drop me an ask/comment/dm if you want to request something. I might write more parts for this, I’m fond of these two...

You hate him.

He is lecherous, the way he leers down at you with those terribly green eyes every time he is home, pinning you to your place for hours, talking nonsense and touching you with his grimy fingers.

He is disgusting. He makes you do filthy, unspeakable things and gets off on your discomfort and pain while his facade remains sickly sweet and doting, so sugary it makes your skin crawl. 

And he is insatiable. Always seeking a new thrill, each escapade more depraved and obscene than the last. 

 It doesn’t take you long to figure out what he’s chasing this time, obvious as always in his pursuits. It's been going on for days now. He has fed you copious amounts of water and tea, and makes you wait until you nearly piss yourself to go to relieve yourself. You can feel his hungry eyes on you every time you leave to go to the bathroom and you know, you just know, that he is making a mental note of it. You’re not stupid: He wants you to wet yourself and the time window is closing. Rapidly.

 -

You know he’ll go for it the moment his hand stops you from getting up from the couch, his face excited, a shit-eating grin splitting it in half. “Stay for a while, baby”, he leers and you sit down again, the waistband of your jeans already uncomfortably tight. Nothing you can do about it now. The thought doesn’t help with the dread pooling in your stomach. After another pitcher of water (and a million words of syrupy encouragement) you finally find yourself hovering your cunt over his face as he tries to sweet-talk you, tries to make you forget that he is naked and twitching behind your back. “See? I told you could take it all”, he’s grinning up at you, his warm hands settled on your hips. “I’m so proud, baby.” Yamada is talking to you as though you’re not a grown woman, but his little plaything and you hate it every time he does it. And although you want to roll your eyes at him (a one-way ticket to punishment), you nod and hum obediently, presenting yourself as meek and shy both out of fear and desire to keep up the act. To make him happy, to make this quick for you. You’re so full. He hasn’t allowed you to go to the bathroom for the past three hours now and you can feel the pressure in your bladder mounting. It feels as though it’s straining against the skin of your belly and the feeling makes you all the more aware of any touches to your stomach, especially those creeping hands that slowly but steadily move to the center of your belly, dangerously close to your bladder. “Aw, you’re all tensed up”, his fingertips push down with too much force and you can’t help the little yelp that escapes you. He cocks an eyebrow at the sound and grins. “Oh? What’s that? Do you need to go?” His voice is honey and malice at once and you want nothing more than to curse him. You hate his coy little games, but it’s all part of the appeal for him, part of the allure.

He's rubbing your belly with insistence now, his eyes greedy and pathetic - and although your pelvic floor is clenched like a vice you- you slip. 

It's just a drop, but the momentum of loosening muscles and raw shock makes you jolt into him, your clit grazing over his upper lip.

 He knows. The way his eyes snap up at you, all wide and frantic, he knows you can't hold it any longer. “C’mon, baby”, his voice is almost gentle, almost coaxing - but the vulgar edge to it isn’t lost to you, not yet. “You need my help and I’m happy to provide, hm?” “Please-”, you choke out, but you know it’s useless. He won’t let you go and even if he did- any shift would make you wet yourself right now, anyway. You sob at the realization. You’ll have to let go. You have to-

 You crash against his lips, sob as he cups his whole, hot mouth to envelop your cunt, sob as you finally snap and relieve yourself. As soon as your piss hits the back of his tongue he groans - it’s so much and almost clear from the sheer amount of water you had consumed beforehand, but it still smells. 

God, you want to cry. 

And you do. You blubber and gasp as you piss yourself, the shame of losing control over your bladder too much to bear. Yamada doesn’t seem to hear you. He drinks it all up, so greedy for every ounce you have to offer. 

 Sometime mid-stream he closes his mouth - you don’t know if it’s voluntary or not, if he has finally had his fill - but any attempt at stopping your bladder is fruitless and your urine just bursts all over his face, his eyes screwed shut as he bucks up into the air.

"Fuck, baby- So good!", his hand roughly kneads your ass as you sob. "Fucking- piss all over me."

His words make you want to die. Shame and humiliation curl deep in your gut, but you just can't stop peeing. He made you drink so much that finally letting go is almost orgasmic and your body keeps going, more out of reflex than conscious thought. When you’re done, the bed is completely ruined and your thighs shake from the exertion. One last, dry sob tears itself out of your throat as you look at the mess you’ve made. He can be malicious if he wants to - it’s not unusual for him to punish you even though you simply followed his demands - and you don’t want to know what might be waiting for you. Maybe sleeping on the floor, because the mattress is destroyed right now. Maybe he’ll force to drink his own piss in return-

 And then he dives into your cunt as though he is a man starved, his tongue wild and everywhere. He’s licking you clean, even though it’s all over him by now, chasing those very last droplets. He’s pressing you down into his mouth with his right hand and his teeth are sharp through your sensitive skin, bluntly forcing themselves into your pubic bone and he applies so much pressure to your clit it fucking hurts. But he’s relentless in his actions and the sounds that spill out of your mouth - regardless if they’re out of pleasure or pain - spur him on as he jerks himself off with you on top of him. And although his face is buried into your pussy, his grunts and moans are terribly loud. 

It doesn’t take long for him to get closer to the edge, already riled up and high from getting what he had wanted for days, along with the ecstasy of having complete control over you, truly getting you to do anything he wants.

He groans and clamps down on your ass as he cums, his load scorching hot on your lower back, while his teeth are dangerously close to your clit, almost nipping the sensitive nerves. You simply let it happen, legs cold and wet, too exhausted and ashamed to move an inch.

When you look back down, he is staring right at you, those lovesick green eyes more enamoured than they’ve ever been.

[avintagekiss24]

day with destiny | b. barnes

→ pairing: aristocrat!bucky barnes x aristocrat!black!reader

→ word count: 3000

→ warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, biting kink

→ challenge: @cockslut-padalecki​ not my ninth

trope: aristocratic society

song prompt: crush by jennifer paige

→ square filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ 2021

g5: clothed sex

→ author note: i was finally able to reign myself in with these word counts, lol. i saw this gif of baby faced sebastian and couldn’t help myself. he looks like a little shit, but look at those pink lips… anyway, these are modern!aristocrats. lyrics to crush aren’t obvious (except for one line at the very end), but worked into the dialogue. i have no idea who made the gif, i got it from google. i also have no idea who made this divider, as i also got it from the google.

Blue eyes peer over at you from across the table, the gaze searing into the side of your face. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, but you don’t dare cut your eyes— this game is entirely too fun to give in now. Instead, you take a deep breath, pushing your chest out— your tits— shifting roughly in your seat just to make your flesh jiggle, before you release the air slowly.

Cabinet meetings are never fun. Rich, old white men going on and on about their views for the country— your family of course bringing the only sense of color into the society. Some old man yammers on at the front of the room behind the podium. Heads nod, claps ring out at random intervals, loud here here’s filling your ears as you roll your eyes. You don’t have the least bit of interest in any of it as it stands today, but your blue blood, and rank in the family— poised to take over for your dear old daddy in the coming years— requires your presence.

Bucky Barnes is quite the same. Young, bored, and too damn pretty for his own fucking good. You squeeze your legs together abruptly, the images of the last cabinet meeting playing back in your mind. Hot, sticky breath. Reddened, swollen lips— against your ear, sucking on your skin. The salt that exploded on your tongue as he shoved his thumb into your mouth.

You stand quick, clearing your throat— sending a silent message to the youngest Barnes at the long table. A hand grabs your wrist, stopping you as you start to move towards the back of the room, “Mother?”

“This is important, daughter,” she whispers harsh— a warning.

“And so is my bladder, mother.”

She sighs heavily, but releases the grip around your wrist, “Yours and the Barnes boy, apparently.”

Flicking your eyes quickly, you smirk as he pushes his chair underneath the table and starts towards the large doors at the back of the room, rubbing at his chin with his hand, the sunlight glinting off of the rings adorning his long fingers. You watch him as he moves— so easy, so confident— as he runs his hand through his dark, perfectly clipped hair, the Loubotins on his feet clicking softly.

You only drop your eyes when he slips through the door and out of view, “Ten minutes, mother.”

She knows. She knows that you know she knows, but she just sighs again and lets you saunter off without a second glance. Dress dragging behind you, bottom lip sucked between your teeth, heart and blood starting to race as each step draws you closer to your silver tongued foe, lying in wait for you in a random, deserted hallway.

He’s leaned against the wall, gazing out over the city beneath, hands drawn into his pockets. He’s a sight, but he always is, each little brown hair in place, chin and cheeks so clean shaven that a hair wouldn’t even dare sprout. Body lean in that black military jacket, gold medals and hand stitched ribbons hanging from the pockets.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” you smile soft, crossing your arms over your chest, leaning against the very same wall.

Bucky glances over his shoulder, that shit grin he’s such a proud owner of spreading on his face, “Then stop propositioning me.”

You laugh— it’s gentle and soft, the dissonance of your long relationship easily melting away. He finally turns and takes a few steps towards you, extending his hand, tenderly taking your fingers. Those deep, emotional eyes stay on yours as he lifts your hand, lips brushing— glancing ever so lightly over the backs of your delicate, manicured digits. Then he smiles, slow, sweet, teeth sinking into his blushed bottom lip as he blinks just as slow.

He’s a sight, this Bucky Barnes.

Keenly aware of his family’s teetering reputation, hanging on by a mere thread as of late due to his fathers extra curricular proclivities, you can’t help but take a swipe, “I’m surprised you’re family’s allowed back in the building. It got a little tense last time you all were here.”

“It did, didn’t it?” he answers quickly, placing your hand on his shoulder before he pulls you in close— a long arm wrapping your waist, pinning you to him, “I don’t remember much though, as my face was buried in your cunt for most of the meeting.”

Shivers race the length of your spine. He feels it— revels in it— savors it.

Lively brown eyes bounce back and forth between heavy, brewing blues, “You aren’t afraid that the rest of them will move to vote your family out, Lord Barnes?”

“Not in the slightest,” you’re met with a defiant shrug, “I hate this shit.”

“Oh, how original! An aristocrat that hates the god given privilege bestowed upon him.” You sigh, tilting your head towards the ceiling as he nuzzles into your neck, your hands sliding up and over his shoulders, “You’re predictable, Barnes.”

“You’re one to talk about privilege, My Lady.”

“Am I?” You retort quick, quirking an eyebrow.

A brilliant smile is cast upon you, blue irises like gems, sparkling under the light, “Your blood is the richest in the room— the bluest of blue— and you speak with such animosity of mine as if you haven’t prevailed your entire life because of it.”

“Bested by the color of our skin, which has precluded my lineage of its rightful place for years,” you scoff, leaning into him, “It was not privilege that got us here, Lord Barnes,” you whisper, “It was persistence.”

He chuckles against your skin, the vibrations rattling through your body, right to your bones. Hot velvet slips along the curve of the junction between your shoulder and neck before teeth scrape and then sink— tenderly— right into the meat, making you gasp. Hands grip, fingers dig into his opposite shoulder as he nips and nibbles.

“You’ll lose everything,” you breathe, heavy, languid as his mouth, his tongue, his lips move to your jaw, your chin, “Your family will be ruined.”

“I’ll be okay,” Bucky hums low, a smile on his face, dark eyelashes splashed over his pink tinged cheeks. His long fingers play with your lips, prodding gently as he rests his forehead to yours, “With a face like mine baby,” he whispers, that devilish smile painting his red tinted lips, “I was born to marry rich.”

He pushes his leg between yours, spreading them, pushing the meat of his thigh right against your sex— the thin silk of your panties sticking to the balmy, wet flesh. The tips of his fingers flirting with the inside of your calf before pushing up over your knee, skirting up your own ticklish thigh.

Bucky takes pleasure in the honeyed giggle that bubbles in your chest and slips out of your mouth, knowing not just anyone can coax such a genuine reaction from you. Metal fingers push higher— sweeping softly, back and forth, over the powder pink silk panties, discovering the warm wet spot, a white hot fire filling his eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

You grunt some, leaning in, putting full lips right against his ear, “Absolutely not,” the words whispered.

“You sure?” he squints, drawing your face back in front of his, thumbing at your bottom lip, pulling it open, “There’s something in those eyes.”

“Let’s not over analyze, Lord Barnes,” you tisk, slipping a hand between your bodies, cupping his cock— squeezing his heat— with care of course, “Don’t go too deep with it. It’s just—”

“What?” brisk, curt— the words cut off by a feverish, deep kiss. Tongue licking into your mouth, sweeping against the roof— heavy, hot, rushed, desperate for you as he groans, “What is it?”

You pull at his belt, at the button and zipper, hand and fingers sinking into his open pants, pushing through a rough, dark, tuft of wiry hair. He whirrs, strained and broken, body clenching up as your warm palm wraps around him. Long, slow strokes pull more tiny sounds from him— a skilled muscle memory, what he likes, what he doesn’t, what he needs— taking over.

A sweet kiss, soft and quick, is pressed against his cheek, your lips against his ear once more, “It’s just a little crush, Bucky. Just some little thing that raises my adrenaline when I need a shot.” His cock jumps in your hand, a quick hiss and stunted grunt filling your ears as you lick your lips, “Don’t make too much of it.”

Bucky grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks hard, puckering your lips before he kisses you feverishly again. The cool metal digits grab your neck, a soft pressure constricting the muscles as he pushes you back, back against the window— using his body to crush you to it.

The smack of his lips disconnecting from yours ricochets off the walls, filling the small hallway. He licks your lips, dragging his tongue from your chin right to the tip of your nose as he anchors your leg on his hip. Hot flesh fingers slip up your thigh, pulling your panties to the side, the cool air sending a shock to the wet, delicate flesh of you. He sucks that bottom lip back between his perfect teeth, tilting his head back slightly to peer at you through those long, dark eyelashes.

You mimic him. Tilt your head back on the glass, sink your teeth into your swollen lip, hand still stroking him slow, wetting the pads of your fingers with his silk. His hips rock soft into your palm as you sweep your fingers over his tip before dragging back down his length, gripping him firm. With a quick blink, you’re staring at him— angry, thick, throbbing in your hand. A bead bubbles out, spills right over, a long string hanging from his reddened tip before his cock twitches again— leaving you breathless. Knees almost buckling. Mouth going dry as your lungs struggle to fill.

“Come on, baby,” Bucky purrs, goading you as you push his cock through your folds, rolling your hips, teasing your waiting slit with his tip.

Surprise sweeps through you when frankly, it shouldn’t as you sink down on him. The muscle memory of your hands don’t translate to the muscles of your cunt— his size, how much you have to spread to accommodate him, like a revelation each and every time. Bucky almost never rushes it, and neither do you, like it’s something new every time.

But it isn’t, no no, it’s ancient for the two of you. Connecting like this in long, skinny hallways, cramped closets, old hotel rooms under the mask of darkness. The muffled sounds of your sex as you try and ultimately fail to keep quiet, filling the abandoned spaces— bringing life to them again.

Loneliness often fills your chest if you go too long without it.

Bucky is buried to the hilt in you now— rooted deep in the tightest, hottest space of your body. He takes a minute, pushing his hips, wiggling— adjusting— before he pulls out slow. All the way, cock bouncing as soon as it breaks the threshold. He doesn’t wait long though. Nope. He’s back inside of you within seconds with a slam of his hips, pushing you up the window. Pulling a squeak and a rush of air from you.

Those red lips of his part, his heavy tongue pushing out to slip along his bottom lip as his eyelids drop, covering the blue you’ve come to enjoy. You can’t help but reach out, place your warm palms and fingers on his blushed cheeks, tracing his nose before they prod at his bottom lip, the tips just sinking into that wet mouth. He draws long breaths, exhales them all over your face as he starts to move.

You let the rhythm carry you away. Up into the clouds as your head rolls to the side, hands fall to his chest and around his neck. Tits bounce with each shove, starting to spill over and fall out of the square shaped neckline of your intricate dress. Hair starts to fall out of place, heat rises in your cheeks, desperate little wet noises beseeching him.

Bucky’s a good fuck. Ever the playboy, never thinking twice of an encounter until— well, you, as he so softly put it one night in one of those dark, old hotel rooms while you both dressed. There’s a filth to it. The way he toys with you. Speeding up suddenly— skin slapping, echoing down the hall— and then, without warning or hesitation, slows down. Down to nothing almost. Soft pulses of his hips, just enough to drive you mad. To make you beg him for more.

To make you weak. To keep you coming back.

That’s how he is now. Barely moving, wanting you to squirm. Two big eyes, pupils blown stare up at you. Mouth agape, the smallest little curve on them. He wants you to beg. To tell him just how much— “Bucky,”

“Yes?” he shoves hard, pushing deep, “My Lady?”

“Please,” there it is, the beg— the want, “Please, Bucky.”

So, the filth is back. Yeah, it’s a little dirty how he grips your thigh, hard, nails digging and scratching into the meat of it. How he licks into your mouth and bites your lips before shoving that metal hand into your neckline, palming the delicate mound of flesh beneath. A brown nipple is soon exposed, tight and hard, after a quick tug of his hand yanks your dress down. It disappears again within a flash, right into his mouth, tongue circling.

An arch curves your spine when he sucks, a deep, low, stressed grunt sounding from somewhere deep in your chest. Your lips pucker, forming an o as you breathe heavy, then gasp quick before digging your teeth into your bottom lip and inhaling sharp. An already tight grip on his bicep and left shoulder constricts even more as he really picks up the pace, desperate and feverish his hips, tongue slipping into your cleavage.

There’s nothing but sounds and sensations— the squelch and squeak of his cock stuffing you, your stiletto slipping off the foot that’s hooked around his waist and thudding against the floor. The gold medals pinned to his military jacket bouncing soft against the thick material. His metal fingers tapping against the windows as he holds his weight.

Flashes of heat ripple through your body— muscles tensing and straining, cunt clenching, clamping. Fists balling. Stomach and head twirling as he gives you his best. And God, do you appreciate his effort.

The fuse proves to be short on this crisp winter day. A coil that had no chance of staying intact snaps earlier than you expect, body tightening hard, nearly freezing you in place the second before you start to come. Crying out— no shame, no sense of care if anyone hears— you just let it take over. Let him drive it home, hips snapping against yours, jutting, thrusting, pushing and pulling, sending you higher and higher.

Goosebumps on your skin. Heartbeat in your ears. A white hot flash, nearly blinding— it’s just that good. Metal fingers sink between your legs, playing with your clit, enticing it further as it spasms— wanting to feel every last bit of what your body has to offer.

Bucky hammers away, until he can’t. You’re just too sweet— too warm and wet and inviting. He’s painting your insides white within minutes, hot, quick shots of silk, filling you up, and then spilling back out. His head falls heavy to your chest as the last digs of his hips work themselves out, lips sticking to your damp, exposed skin.

You wrap him up, hands and fingers splaying out on his back, holding him tight and close as he empties and stills. Then, the two of you just breathe. Let the day, the room full of people, your families, your duties, just fade away. It’s just you and Bucky and that cool window against your overly warm skin.

It breaks— the moment. Just as it always does. Your body becomes empty as he tucks back into his pants. No longer pinned to the window, you bend to replace your shoe, pull at your dress. Bucky runs his thick fingers through his dark hair, you picking and smoothing at your own.

Stepping off after a few sobering moments without so much as a look or a smile, you're caught, a tight hand around your wrist, pulling you back. You crash into his chest, crash against his lips in one last, deep, sweeping kiss. One that once he pulls away, your eyes stay closed, lips stay puckered.

“You sure you won’t marry me?”

You know that if he asks one more time, your resolve will fizzle— and you will, “Very sure.”

A lopsided grin covers his mouth as he tilts his head, “Just a pesky little crush, huh?”

“There’s no vision of you and me quite yet, Lord Barnes,” you sigh, turning away and stepping  down the hall, “You just pray that I don’t decide to join the rest of the party and vote you out.”

“Make sure you keep a copy of your vote for me. I’ll want to frame it.”

You throw him a quick glance, “And why would you do something like that?”

“So I can show our children just how mean mommy was to daddy before we got married,” he starts, buttoning up his jacket. He kisses the pads of his fingers and blows on them lightly, sending you a kiss, “I have white picket fences in my eyes.”

Without another word, he spins on his heel and takes off in the opposite direction. A hum vibrates in your throat. The sounds of your heels and his shoes slap against the walls as the two of you walk away from each other.

It doesn’t take a scientist to understand what’s going on, baby.

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!seonghwa (part 22)

word count: 4k

angst, fluff, smut

(part 21) (series masterlist)

you had thought that after a few weeks, you and yeosang were gonna start to have hiccups. that your old banter and fighting and animosity towards one another would somehow rise to the surface, push past the sexual tension and attraction and show it's true colors again.

but your two-month anniversary was only a few weeks away and you two were still going strong. still exploring each other's likes and dislikes, annoying habits and quirks and finding out more and more that the unique magnetic pull between you two seems to be something very real.

if you guys weren't out on a date, walking through the park or trying out a new cafe, you were at his house, giggling and kissing one another before the night inevitability turned hot and heavy.

"you know, i don't think... we've ever finished a movie here," you tell yeosang breathily, the boy's strong hands on your waist as he kisses down your neck.

you had been testing him all night, curling yourself on his lap and wiggling with just a little too much purpose. wrapping your arms around his shoulders and ghosting your lips over his. running your fingers through his hair and letting your nails lightly scratch his scalp.

because you just love his reactions, love watching him smirk and try to ignore you until he eventually snaps. but he only hums against your skin, grounding you down more on his hardening groin causing you to let out a shaky gasp.

"maybe because you can't keep your hands to yourself," he says before pushing you down on your back, pressing his body against yours and taking your wrists in his hand.

you smirk at the sight of his red, puffy lips and messy hair; this is what you've been waiting for. his grip on your wrists as your arms stretch above your head, his ticking jaw and dark eyes shooting a jolt of excitement and warmth through you.

"you play with me on purpose, don't think i haven't caught on."

you lick your lips before pressing them into a firm line, attempting to show a look of indifference as you shake your head innocently. "i don't know what you're talking abo-"

his lips crash down on yours and you smile against them, arching your back in his hold before wrapping your legs around his waist. his hand tightens around your wrists ever so slightly at the new position, his tongue peeking out to invade your mouth.

you guys hadn't gone that whole way regarding sex but you've definitely done more than make out. because the amount of times his fingers have slipped inside your thong on this couch, your chest pushed flush against the fabric of the couch as you kneel between his legs and take his length in your mouth, was just a little embarrassing to think about. it had gotten to the point where he immediately invested in a set of blinds for the glass door.

and your teasing proves to be a success because, with your wrists still in hand, he's quick to pull down on your leggings and underwear with the other and circle around your clit. you moan out his name and it only spurs him on to apply more pressure before his pinky finger slides in your wet entrance.

"yeosang," you whine. because he knows that's not enough even though he already has your legs shaking.

"shut up," he growls, something hot and tingly burning deep in your stomach; it's incredibly ironic (and actually a little shameful) how quickly you listen to his harsh commands when you're under him opposed to in your normal day-to-day life.

"you do this to yourself every time, baby," yeosang mumbles, awarding you another finger when you do indeed shut up, before bringing his face to yours and placing a kiss on your mouth. "now you're gonna sit through the punishment."

"a punishment you say?" yunho says, throwing his arm around you as he guides you to your 4th period class that following monday. "and what exactly did that entail?"

"wouldn't you like to know," you tease, bumping into him playfully before squinting your eyes at him. "i'm sure mingi could show you it firsthand though."

you were 99% sure the boys were about to start dating and was 100% sure they both had crushes on each other.

because it was so sickeningly obvious, their banter and touches and gazes that always look far too sweet and loving for them to claim they're best friends. you had always noticed it but it became increasingly obvious after the day at the amusement park, when mingi had come back with seonghwa.

his gaze never left the boy, his rare hint of smile only appearing when yunho looked his way or said something funny.

"him giving me a punishment?" yunho laughs out, "i'd love to see him try."

"why?" you squeak, poking him in the side as you wiggle your eyebrows up at him. "because you have a crush on him?"

"no, my love," the boy says simply, humor in his tone as he watches you lean against the wall outside your classroom. he looks side to side, making sure the boy didn't somehow just appear, before he leans down to whisper in your ear. "because he's the biggest bottom i've ever seen."

a loud laugh erupts from you as you hit your friend in the arm, "yunho!"

"what! i'm just saying, y/n."

"so you've thought about it, then?" you ask, brewing with excitement at the budding romance between your two best friends. but he only rolls his eyes and shakes his head, insisting it was as easy to pick up on as the sky being blue.

"but...i couldn't tell that," you say, eyebrows pulled together in confusion and then even more when yunho throws his head back in laughter. "what is so funny!" you whine.

"nothing," he teases, biting his lip before a familiar looking face catches his eye. seonghwa passes the both of you quickly, your eyes meeting as he greets you both with a small smile and wave before he disappears into the classroom.

"yikes," the boy says under his breath. "and how's that going?"

you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders because that's the only way you can describe it. your relationship will probably never be the way it was before, just talking about anything and laughing with one another carelessly; because now you're lucky if you get more than ten words out of him when it's just you and him together.

"he'll say hi and stuff, ask how my weekend was and if i'm doing okay with my work," you tell him, "but apart from that...eh."

yunho quirks his lip to the side in dismay, frowning at the sight of you dejected. "it's still hard for him, i guess."

"i guess," you sigh, "but i should go in. i don't want you to be late." he smiles softly at you, tucking a piece of hair that fell out from your ponytail before nodding. "i'll see you at lunch."

you nod your head quickly before walking into the room, taking your usual seat in the back and passing seonghwa who never did move back to the empty one in front of you. you sit down and take your books out, ready again to look at the board and ignore the sight of the back of the boy's head mocking you.

but if you thought that was mocking, your teacher's words ten-minutes later completely rendered you a speechless fool.

you had known about the presentation due the day before christmas break and you had known that it would be with a partner - but you didn't know that she'd be picking them and you certainly didn't know you'd end up with no other than:

"park seonghwa," you hear right after your name is announced. your eyes widen as your teeth sink into your lower lip before you notice the boy two seats ahead of you stiffen immediately. you know this is probably the last thing he wants and that he has every right to be uncomfortable but the reaction still hurts your feelings.

you hear the girl next to you let out an annoyed scoff, turning your head to see her eyes narrowed at you with a fire you were once so used to building behind them. it's been quite some time since you got bullied, everyone deeming you harmless and not worth their time for which you were grateful; you had even almost forgotten everyone and their mother thinks you're a poor beggar.

but perhaps that's because now they've switched up their material.

the teacher dismisses the class five minutes early, sharing far too much about the amount of drinks she had this morning and her weak bladder, leaving all the students free to chat and pack their things up before the bell.

and that's when the girl and her minion take their chance, sit on their desks and spin themselves around as they cross their legs in a lousy attempt to box you in.

"you must be pretty happy about your partner," one of them says, tone and smile sweet as candy but you know these antics far too well by now to think she's being genuine.

"and why's that?" you ask, not about to beat around the bush or entertain her juvenile behavior.

and apparently it pisses her off that you didn't go all doe-eyed and feign innocence the way you used to, hit her with a naive 'of course i am, seonghwa's one of the top students.'

"because isn't it time to bounce back to him now?"

your eyebrow raises at the comment in surprise, turning your head to the side in confusion. "what?"

the girls look at each other and share a snide laugh. "really? you were up his ass the first month and a half of school," the other girl chimes in, her eyes ghosting over seonghwa who's talking to the boy in front of him. "and then all the sudden you drop him and start dating yeosang, his best friend nonetheless?"

"i wasn't up his ass, we were just..we're friends."

but the sinister, bitchy smirks on their faces don't care to hear that.

"we were just innocent little friends," the girl mocks with a laugh before a hard, serious look crosses her face. "like you weren't a second away from dating him before another boy looked your way."

"sounds like you're a whore to me," the peanut gallery chimes in again.

"a total whore," the girl says, smirking as she looks at you with tears brimming your eyes as anger and hurt stir in your stomach. "it was very distasteful, y/n, playing the two of them like that. you could've ruined a friendship."

"i wasn't dating, seonghwa," you say quietly, the same way your mind has repeated that statement to you over and over and over again these past few months.

"but you would've," she's quick to add, "because everyone knew how much he liked you." the girl's eyes again graze over to seonghwa who's head is turned straight in his friend's direction. "but you really messed up with your whoring around, huh? since he's not over here defending you."

"how sad," the girl says, "but if he did, i'm sure she'd be with him next week."

"they share her. gotta making herself money somehow."

and that's when you've had enough, wiping a tear that's rolled down your cheek before your chair scrapes on the floor and you quickly make your way out the door. you text mingi and yunho, praying that one of them can get out so you don't have to have this breakdown alone.

and it's a breakdown seonghwa knows you're gonna have which is why he immediately jumps up from his chair and over to the girls, the look on his face so angry and full of rage they almost regret messing with you.

"how many times do i have to tell you bitches to leave her alone?"

their faces drop at seonghwa's profanity, looking to one another in shock that seonghwa can only roll his eyes to.

"we were just trying to stick up for y-"

"just shut the fuck up, how 'bout that?" the boy growls, "you two don't know shit."

the girl's look at him in fear, getting more and more nervous at the anger directed at them; but it does nothing to simmer the boy.

"she's been through enough from all of you and she doesn't need anymore. so just stop. fucking. talking to her."

the girls can only blankly stare at him, the rest of the class sensing drama and falling silent.

"do you understand me?"

the girls swallow nervously, not sure if seonghwa even noticed how much he got in their face.

"forgot how to talk?" his loud, harsh voice growls out.

and lucky for them, they remember how to and quickly rush out swears that they won't talk to you anymore. but he only rolls his eyes and sneers at them, plopping back down in his seat as his foot jerks anxiously in hopes to get out of this room.

and lucky for you, mingi gets out of his class immediately. he ushers you into the nurse's office where you spend the next period crying and venting to the boy. asking him if those girls were right and if you were using both of them during that time. because you've even thought to yourself how you were once so sure about liking seonghwa and convinced you'd want to be with him.

"you were allowed to be confused, y/n," mingi tells you softly, "you had one hot guy and another..cute-ish guy after you." you pout and hit him playfully when even during a pep talk, he still finds time to make a dig at yeosang. "and you hadn't even be here that long and they were both coming on strong. it was exciting and there was no right way to handle it."

you let out a tiny sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder as he pats your back in awkward but comforting mingi fashion. "you hadn't given yourself to either of them, you weren't indebted to be with seonghwa just because he was nice to you."

and deep down, you know that, you've known that. but it hurt hearing it from an outside source. which mingi is quick to clarify that they didn't know what they were talking about, that they only said those things to hurt you and that you shouldn't let it work.

"besides..." the boy says after a few minutes, after you've smiled and wiped your tears. "it's not like you kissed both of them or something."

your face falls when you see the shit eating grin on mingi's face, who's quick to take your face in his hand and squeezing your cheeks teasingly. "that was mean," you mumble out, words morphed by his hold on your jaw before you rip your face away.

"it was kind of funny," the boy says despite the smile not dropping from his face. you both hear the bell ring for next period and you watch mingi's eyes light up at the sound. "c'mon, are you hungry? i'll willingly share my food with you."

"fine," you grumble out, eyes narrowing at him as you pick up your things. "but like i'll get a chance, yunho eats all the fruit in two seconds."

a scoff leaves the redhead as he nods his head, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you both make your way to the library.

and in a sick, twisted fate, the two girls who attacked you in class pass you by. they're quick to look at mingi, his harsh glare and lip curled in disgust causing them to advert their gaze to his hand on your shoulder before looking you dead in the face.

"great, that's just great," you whine to the boy next to you, "and my body count raises to three. i can't wait for the shit they're about to say tomorrow, probably gonna tell the whole class i have an std or something."

a snort leaves mingi as he shakes his head and tightens his hold on you. "i love you but i don't know if i'd ever kiss you."

a sarcastic laugh leaves your mouth as you shake your head, being sure to look right at him when you say "that's because you're a bottom!"

he stops in his tracks and his arm falls from your shoulders when the words leave your mouth, a mix of shock, embarrassment and amusement on his face. "what..what did you just say to me?"

"don't think i don't know these things," you say to him, "it's as obvious as the sky being-"

"y/n."

the deep voice immediately causes you to turn around; you haven't heard him say your name like that in months. seonghwa's looking at you and mingi almost apprehensively, an unsure look on his face probably due to the fact he heard people ream into you about being a whore and using him...but who's to know really.

"hi, seonghwa."

the two of you hold each other's gaze amidst the busy, bustling hallway, the both of you waiting on the other to respond or say anything else. but mingi's quick to break the tension, despite his own confusion about being called out less than a second ago, telling you he'll give you two a minute and will see you in the library.

you and seonghwa both nod before walking off to the side, out of harms way from bustling students and oversized backpacks smacking into you. he's leaned against the wall, teeth between his lip as he watches you look at the floor and play with your hands nervously.

"are you okay?" he asks and the scene is so familiar, it brings the slightest pang of pain to his chest.

his eyes move further down, brows knitting as his stomach sinks because just the mention of this party has you nervous, has your hands folded into one another and fingers fiddling nervously; he feels the familiar feeling of guilt start to creep in his veins at that moment.

"come with me?" he mumbles suddenly, placing his warm hand over the both of yours and rubbing them calmingly before taking one in his grasp.

"are you gonna be okay tonight?" he asks quietly, taking a step closer to you and causing you to bite the inside of your cheek nervously, "i...we can do something else if you want."

a shy smile makes its way on your face, you heart warming at the gesture and the sincerity in his eyes. because it's so thoughtful and sweet and your heart continually melts when he shows time and time again how considerate he is.

but you don't wanna ruin the fun nor do you want that event to taint any other experience you might and will have. it appears though that even with your positive and strong thoughts, it doesn't translate to your body's natural nervous reaction. doesn't stop your stomach from feeling queasy or your mind start to race with the hazy memories.

you're suddenly very interested in the pictures on the wall behind him, eyes darting to take in the drawings and snapshots of the ski lodge throughout the years. the picturesque town, an overview shot from the ski lift at sunset, snow-covered tree, the-

his warm hand on your jaw moves your face ever so slightly so your eyes immediately fall back on him, your tongue darting out to lick your lips nervously and you don't miss the way his eyes follow it.

"y/n?" he hums, head cocked to the side as he looks at you, his gaze gentle and patient.

"no, i can...we can go, i'll be okay," you stutter out, your head turning to look at the table of excited boys throwing crumbs at each other.

"are you sure?" he asks, noticing where your gaze shifts and letting out a sigh, "they won't mind, you know."

"thank you," you say softly, turning back to him face, "but i promise it's okay, i...i think it'll be fun. we can dance."

a soft smile makes its way on his face and he has to suppress a laugh thinking about the kind of dancing you think is appropriate at a party.

"you're two left feet say otherwise," he quips, letting out a laugh when you smack his chest lightly.

"shut up!"

"yeah," you say quietly, ripping him from his memories as he finally notices your eyes on him. "i'm just...i'm sorry you had to hear that. it was embarrassing."

"they're just stupid," he says to you, the angry growl seeping back into his voice. "and they don't even know what they're talking about."

you swallow down the lump making its way in your throat as you nod at him, feeling grateful he's not standing here and yelling at you that they were, instead, absolutely correct. there's a few moments of a slightly awkward silence before a strangled giggle leaves your mouth.

"hey, at least they stopped calling me your poor maid."

and to both your surprises, he lets out a laugh as he shakes his head to the side. "i forgot you were my maid."

"hm guess i've been doing a shitty job, then."

another chuckle leaves his mouth and your eyes meet again, the guarded glint in his eye making you falter ever so slightly. but it only lasts for a few seconds, him quickly moving his gaze to the library before he mentions you guys being partners for the project.

"oh...yeah," you say, your voice dragging out at the end because you don't wanna say the wrong thing and make him feel weird. because is he gonna suggest asking the teacher to make a switch? or be completely fine and start talking about topic ideas and meeting places?

you don't wanna presume anything but then you're pleasantly surprised to find out it's the latter, him telling you it'll probably be best to meet in the library after school one day.

because he doesn't think it'll be...appropriate to have you back over his house or in his bedroom. and he also doesn't hate himself enough to try and put his weepy, fragile heart through that.

"so we'll start meeting next week after school?" you confirm, your bright smile causing his heart to constrict.

"yeah," he says, meeting your smile with one of his own and for a split second, you remember why your stomach and heart used to flutter to a dangerous degree.

you send him one last smile and take a few steps before he calls out your name again. you quickly spin back around to see his tooth in his lip, his hand on the back of his neck that you remember is a nervous tick.

"i'm not mad about anything," he tells you, "i know i've been awkward and distant lately but i...just need you to know i'm not mad at you, okay?"

you feel stupid tears sting behind your eyes, his soft voice and softer words causing you to smile and nod at him. and because you don't think you can get any other words out, you can only get out "okay."

"okay?" your voice confirms sweetly and a smile of his own finally makes it's way on his face. it's small but it's there and your stomach is fluttering at the sight of it.

"okay."

a tiny giggle suddenly bubbles out of you and he looks at you strangely, eyebrows furrowed but eyes holding a certain fondness at hearing you laugh after such an intense few minutes.

"did you see that movie?"

his eyebrow raises, eyes looking at you questioningly as he removes his hand from your face and a gasp falls from your lips.

"hazel and augustus? terminal cancer? the anne frank house?"

his look of confusion only deepens, looking at you as if you've spoken another language.

"i wish i had any idea what you were talking about," he says, sarcasm dripping in his tone and a scoff leaves your mouth as you roll your eyes.

"ugh and the stupid rich boy is back," you tease sarcastically, eyebrows shooting up playfully as you poke his chest daringly.

he smirks thinking back to you muttering to yourself in class with your flushed cheeks and babbling and he can't help but scoot a little bit closer to you in the bed.

you know the memory smacks you both in the face when your eye contact breaks, you taking a few steps back and him shaking his head as his gaze hits the floor. "see you tomorrow," he says gruffly and then before you can even respond, he's gone and around the corner.

you walk into the library with a sigh, plopping down in your usual seat and running your hands through your hair until yunho's bubbly voice pierces your ears.

"you told mingi he was a bottom? where did you ever get that idea?"

(part 23)

[emeraldgenevieve]

Okay so birth story...

We went to bed about 11pm on the 10th August not really thinking much about labour for the first time in weeks. We'd had a few bad night's sleep in a row and that night we just wanted to get to bed early and rest, but baby had other plans! I woke up shortly after midnight to this gush and quickly realised my waters had broken in my sleep! Even though it was obvious, I still had that fear of maybe I've just wet myself but we called the community midwife and she arranged to come out and check. Once the midwife got to our house she decided to do a vaginal examination just to see where I was. At that point I was 2cm so she gave me a little sweep. She was so lovely and stayed with us until about 3:30am to do checks and see if any contractions would kick in but when they didn't, she left arranging to come back at 6:30am to check me again. We headed up to bed, thinking that nothing would probably happen, but then I woke up around 6:15am experiencing a painful contraction. From that point my contractions started around every ten minutes and they stayed that way until about 10:30 when they were getting closer to one every 5 minutes and then they pretty much stayed that way. I was on the ball, I tried having a bath to ease the pain but nobody considered this to be real labour by any means.

As my waters had ruptured, I was required to go into the hospital after 18 hours to be assessed for any signs of infection so we began to discuss whether or not we should just book into the hospital to deliver there. By this point I had switched to a different midwife, who was also very lovely and very supportive of our decision, whatever it would end up being. She decided that she would leave again and come back at 2:30pm to assess us again and get our final decision about where to birth. We talked it over and decided that maybe by that point a hospital birth was our safest option. We were already concerned at the ambulance service had pulled their support of home births and now that we weren't low risk anymore, we couldn't justify staying at home. When the midwife came back we told her we'd like to book into the hospital and just stay there after 6pm to deliver.

My contractions were still about every 5-7 minutes as we waited for 6pm, slowing down a little during the journey to the hospital but picking up soon after we arrived. I was admitted to a fetal assessment unit were they wanted to continuously monitor the baby for a while, which I was happy with at first. For the first few hours of our time in the hospital, we mostly we're just waiting for then to take me to the delivery suite, but they checked me again and I was only 4-5cm. My contractions were getting stronger but still only every 5 minutes. By about 10pm I was beginning to really struggle with the pain. The midwife had changed at 9pm and decided to monitor me again, which meant I was immobile for all my contractions. She told me it would only be for 45 minutes but ended up leaving me on there until 11:30pm. I was struggling with my contractions pretty much this whole time. I was at the point of crying and shouting during the worst of them. It wasn't even the pain from the contractions, it was this horrible, consistent pain that I was having at the front of the very bottom of my uterus which was becoming unbearable during the strong contractions. I kept telling the midwife that something was wrong, my uterus felt like it was going to rip and tear at the front but she just thought I was having a normal labour. By 11:30pm I was in so much distress that she let me off the monitor and checked me again. I was 6cm and she finally decided to consult the doctor, who agreed I could be allowed to move to the labour ward.

By this point I was in agony. I just wanted some pain relief and I felt so disheartened as everyone kept telling me it wasn't real labour and made me feel like I was just being dramatic. I've given birth twice before, I know it wasn't normal but still no one believed me. By the time I got into the labour ward I just wanted some gas and air. I was in so much pain. The ache was constant and just building and with each contraction it felt like my baby's head was going to rip through my stomach. Still no one believed me but I didn't care. By 1am the midwives were concerned. I wasn't letting up about the pain I was having and it was just getting worse. They started to listen and began to think I was maybe having a bladder issue and so, called the consultant in. I was very lucky in that the consultant had actually been seeing me in the last few weeks of my pregnancy and had been supporting my home birth and was well aware of the kind if birth I wanted. He at first suggested an epidural, as he thought I was struggling with contraction pains. After I refused he examined me and we finally found the cause of the problem.

I was 8cm but baby was not in the correct position. It turns out baby was back to back and forehead presenting. The consultant had to have his hand inside me for about 7 minutes feeling around, waiting for contractions etc. to be sure, which was agony. At this point everything changed. He pretty much told me we have three options. Either I try mobilising and changing positions (I was being monitored continuously), he could try to manually turn the baby from the inside, or I could have a C-section. I was dead set against a C-section so I decided to get on my knees on the bed and try different decisions. I was in so much pain at this point but I'm terrified of having a C-section after I had three failed epidurals in my first labour. Once I changed position, I began to feel like I needed to push. I could feel his head coming down and and I was not coping well. The nurses didn't believe me and basically just told me I was wrong. I kept insisting but they weren't having it.

Finally after about another 10 mins they decided to examine me. This time they said I was 6cm and that my cervix was still thick on one side and there was absolutely no way I was ready to push. They wanted me to flip on to my side in the hope it would fix my cervix and maybe relieve some of the pressure. At this point that midwives switched and the new midwife must have glanced at the notes and seen that I was 6cm and still only contracting 3 in 10 and she was trying to be a real hard ass about it. She kept trying to take the gas and air off me, telling me I was delirious and I'd had too much and there was no way I was ready to push. At this point I'd been fighting my body for about 20 minutes thinking that if I let myself push I could do damage to the baby as I still thought he was in the wrong position.

Once this new midwife came in and started fighting with me it was like a switch flipped. My husband started telling her to leave me alone and listen to what I had to say. He was telling her I wasn't delirious I was in pain and I knew my body, I'd done this before. Finally hearing someone validate what I was feeling must have just let me relax that little bit and my body literally started trying to expel the baby. I can't even describe it I still wasn't actively pushing because I didn't know if I should but my stomach was convulsing it was like I was vomiting I couldn't control it all.

Finally the midwife looked and saw head! She told me to start pushing. Two minutes later I was crowning. Another two minutes and the head was delivered with the body following one minute after making a whopping 5 minutes of active pushing.

Once baby was delivered, they placed him up on to my chest immediately. I'm not going to lie I don't remember much of it. I remember Evan crying and getting emotional and he just kept saying, "you did it" but I wasn't even sure it was real. It all happened so fast I kind of thought that I was dreaming it and I still had to go through it. I was shaking so uncontrollably that I almost thought I would have to pass the baby to my husband to hold. I was just broken. The midwives still had to deliver my placenta, which only took another 10 minutes but I was definitely more aware of the pain this time, I was still using the gas and air to cope. Once the placenta was delivered, they began to check if I needed any stitches. Surprisingly, I didn't but they did find a large blood clot which they had to remove and it was so painful! It just felt like the pain was never ending.

After this, they finally left us alone for a while. I finally started to process what had happened. I had done it, it was real he was here and perfect. All 8lb 13oz of him. I couldn't believe the doctors were ever concerned about his size, it just goes to show how wrong the ultrasound can be.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Wet Sugar” [Part 25 of 30]

Summary: Yani forces Erik to realize some things...

NSFW. Mature Audience. Smut.

"I bet she could never make you cry 'Cause the scars on your heart are still mine Tell me that she couldn't get this sting 'She can almost be the worst of me' Too bad she's just eating off your dreams Let me know when you're ready to plea Maybe you just need to send for me

Send for me Send for me Send for me (woo) Send for me…"

Rihanna – "Woo"

She allowed him to stay the night with her in the apartment.

With Erik's arms wrapped around her, Yani lightly touched the scars on his chest and the silence in her bedroom wrapped them in a cocoon of denial. Tracing the contours of the keloids with her fingertips, she was aware that each one meant something, and her gut instinct told her it was something bad. Newer ones that he had returned with had healed up, and there wasn't much space left on his front or back to add that much more. Unless he planned on putting new ones down below…

Erik's lips kept brushing against her forehead, kissing her there all through the night. Neither one of them slept well, and when dawn arrived, Yani decided to skip her classes.

She held him all morning, even when he dozed off in a fitful bit of sleep. His heartbeat thumped in her ear and she tried to take in all of his body heat. She had to pee but was afraid to move, not wanting to break the spell of just holding him close. Keeping him with her. Her bladder won out and she slipped out of the room to relieve herself.

She knew he was awake once more when she felt his right hand rubbing on her right butt cheek. He glanced at his watch.

"You shouldn't skip your classes, Yani."

"I can catch up from a classmate…be still…"

She pushed him back down onto her bed when he tried to pull his shirt back on.

"Go to school—"

"Please…just lay down."

She rested her head back on his chest and wiped her eyes with her wrist, hoping no tears dropped on his skin. Erik rubbed her back.

"Don't get behind on schoolwork because of me. I have five days left. Klaue and the others are booked to leave in two. I'm closing down shop for him. We'll have time together. A whole weekend."

He tilted her chin up with his hand.

"I want you to bring Sweet Pea and come to the compound. Just the three of us. When Our Lady's Manor is vacated, I'll send for you. We'll go to Kendall's show, spend a whole day together at the cove, I'll cook you some more gumbo…"

She nodded her head then placed it back on his chest. Her eyes were blurry from the water threatening to fall again from her lids and Erik wiped them away. Her lips kissed the center of his chest and she crawled on top of him and stared at his face. His eyes were soft-looking and she touched his lips. He lifted her up and kissed her, held her neck and lower back and allowed his mouth to kiss away the pain she felt. She pushed back on the future and clung desperately to every second he touched her.

Erik rolled her over onto her back and licked down the side of her neck. Her skin tingled then burned for him. Turning her head to the side, his mouth latched onto the back of her neck. He pressed gentle kisses there and she turned all the way over, allowing him to kiss his way down her spine until his tongue dipped into the tiny indentations on her lower back.

"Killmonger…"

Her sighs urged him on and he nipped at her ass cheeks with his teeth and then dragged his tongue down her left thigh until he reached her ankles. He did the same to her right ass cheek and leg.

She glanced back at him.

"What are yuh doin' ?"

She watched him kiss back up her side until she felt the hairs of his beard tickle her neck again.

"Tasting you all over," he said.

She turned over and he suckled her left collar bone.

"What do I taste like?"

"Whatchu think? Sugar."

"Yeah?"

"Mmmhmm, especially down here…"

His tongue swirled on her flesh as it passed between her breasts and down to her belly button. She widened her thighs when he reached her clit.

"So sweet…" he sighed as the warmth of his breath made her shiver.

Her eyes rolled back when the hot wetness of his thick tongue slathered her inner labia with saliva and hums from his throat.

"You get so wet for me…so fast girl…"

His fingers slid up and played with her nipples as he took care of business down below.

"Killmonger—"

"Pussy jumpin'…"

Yani felt the pulsing in her center controlled by his voice. It was no different than when he used to call her on the phone and make her play with herself while he had to sit and listen to Klaue talk all day. She tried to imagine him sitting in a meeting with Klaue, an earbud stuck in his ear as he heard her playing in her pussy. Such a nasty man. She gazed down at her folds and saw her body obeying him and only him.

He pinched her nipples hard.

"Cum in my mouth."

"Ooh…"

His full lips smothered her vulva and she released on command, her body arching up from the bed as she grabbed for his hair. He licked up everything she gave and when she looked down at him, his lips and beard glistened.

"Open that pussy up for me."

Slick fingers peeled back her drenched folds and Erik lifted up to his knees. He stroked his erection and she watched his face contort in ecstasy.

"Got me so hard…'bout to make a mess…"

Yani felt the twitching in her pussy again. Erik jammed his left fist on the bed against her waist as he shifted forward and aimed the tip of his dick near her opening. A copious amount of clear fluid dribbled out from his slit. She knew what was next.

"Fuck…look what you makin' me do bitch—"

"Hmmmph…"

Erik's body jerked hard.

"…big mess…"

"…get your pussy…"

"….bitch…"

"…yours…"

"Yani! Fuck!"

Erik's ejaculate soaked the opening of her pussy and covered her mound in a heavy cream that dripped a copious amount onto the sheet.

"Turn over," he demanded.

She did and Erik straddled her thighs, placing his length between her ass cheeks. He shifted his body forward and his chest pressed into her back while he humped her. She loved feeling his full weight on her.

His left hand circled around her throat while his beard scratched against the right side of her face.

"Open your legs."

The harsh whisper in her ear made her gasp. Spreading her thighs, Yani panted into the sheets as Erik adjusted his erection with his right hand. Entering her slowly and going deep, Erik brought fresh tears to her eyes while squeezing her throat. The slight pressure he gave her neck made her insides clench. Not too hard…not too soft…just enough to make her woozy.

"Don't move…dassit…dassit girl. You ain't gotta do nothing but take this dick. Hear me?"

Yani gasped when the deep strokes he gave her went slower.

"Fuck…listen to that pussy…"

Erik's tongue kissed the back of her neck and his lips stayed there a he rocked into her. Each lust-laden stroke was drawn out as he made sure his balls slammed against her clit and rested there just long enough to tease her swollen bud. Wet squelching noises punctuated each stroke and Yani screamed into her pillow.

"Oh, shit…oh shit…Yani…gripping my dick like that…don't stop…keep doing that…oh shit."

His fingers tightened around her neck even more and she grabbed the metal rods of her headboard with both hands.

"…ass got me fucked up…shit…"

Erik pulled out and rested his dick between her cheeks again.

"…fuck I'm cumming…"

Hot spurts coated her back and she rested her head on her pillow as he rubbed her behind, squeezing her cheeks and still stroking his dick up and down her backside. Heavy exhales left his mouth until flopped down next to her. Her eyes turned to look between his legs. He was finally flaccid.

Erik stroked her back and played with his cum, rubbing into her skin. He loved seeing her covered in his essence. Any chance he got, he made sure to smear it all over her body. Marking her.

He checked his watch again. A heaviness settled around him once more. He kissed her with slow wet satisfaction until his watch alarm went off. She closed her eyes and her lips pouted heavily.

"Gotta dip, baby…hey, don't make that face."

Pushing her forehead into her pillow, Yani waved her hand at him.

"Go on, man."

"Gimme another kiss."

She leaned over and licked his lips before giving him what he wanted.

"Make sure you go to class this afternoon. Send me a picture that you are there."

"I don't have to go if I don't want—"

SLAP!

Erik's hand stung as it smacked her right ass cheek.

"I'm not playing. Give baby girl a kiss for me later."

Yani reached down and rubbed her butt.

"Fine."

He left her room discreetly and Yani padded to the bathroom nude. It was too late to act like Nannette didn't hear them when she returned from dropping off her daughter earlier.

Showering for a long time, she tried to give any lingering thoughts about him leaving to the hot water Gods as she cleaned herself thoroughly. Throwing on her favorite robe, she sauntered into the living room.

"No school today?" Nannette asked.

"I'm going this afternoon."

"Busy?"

The smirk on Nannette's face made Yani snicker. She sat down next to her roommate on the couch.

"He won't stay over again. That was just a one-time thing. He's leaving the island for good."

Nannette's eyes looked concerned.

"What happened?"

"His job."

"You two…?"

"I have school. He has his career. It can't work…not right now."

"So there's a chance—"

"Let's go to the movies tonight. I can have Anika watch the girls and you and I can have dinner and a movie after my classes today. We deserve some fun. My treat."

The words came out perky, but Nannette saw Yani's obvious lip tremble and she reached over and patted her thigh.

"That sounds like fun. We do deserve a girl's night together."

"It's a date."

Yani jumped up from the couch before she broke down all the way.

###

The compound security system was Erik's forte.

He knew every inch of the place because of Yani and Leona.

Once the others left, he would recalibrate everything under his control. He wanted Yani and Sydette to have paradise once more. He would give it to them with a high degree of privacy.

Time was now spent being under Klaue's beck and call. They jettisoned mercs they would no longer use, and Erik learned a lot about Klaue's inner circle. Had the man took a different path in life, he would've made an effective neutral diplomat. He was also loyal to no one but himself…and Erik.

Crazy.

This man that Erik would kill once he was on his way to Wakanda had a soft spot for his unknown secret enemy. He entrusted Erik with security codes to his private stash/safe houses around the world. Important decisions were bounced off of Erik first before Klaue brought it to the other men. There was a high level of respect that Klaue had for him that he was not afraid to show in front of the others.

Erik often wondered: Did he have the same relationship with his father before he turned on him?

He could easily see why his Baba used Klaue. The man had connections to people and places that shouldn't be possible. This filthy uncouth little man could talk his way around the fucking world. Could reach out and take an audience with friend and foe of any country.

Erik knew his own father had an arrogance and pride of association with people, so it must've been difficult for him to be in Klaue's presence for any length of time. N'Jobu Udaku didn't suffer fools, and from what Erik could decipher from his father's journals, Klaue was meant to be disposed of after they took vibranium out of the country. Something went awry, something made Klaue turn against his father and bomb a bunch of Wakandans to cover his tracks. Erik took great care in covering his own tracks, acquiescing to Klaue when it was beneficial to him and his agenda to keep the man focused. What did his father do or say that let Klaue know he was in danger?

"Let's call it a day, mate," Klaue said, rubbing his eyes as he shut down a digital 3D map of Busan, South Korea. It was four in the morning and Klaue had them up for over twenty hours.

Erik suggested that any exchange of goods should happen in Busan if Klaue could swing it. Klaue had a friend of a friend with connections to a place that had no problem allowing illicit deals to occur in the open. Klaue liked the idea. It wasn't Europe or Africa.

Erik and Klaue heard the security system announce Linda's presence. She walked in wearing clothes she had left in the previous day. A cat with a canary in its mouth look was plastered on her face. Erik knew that look well. She had been dicked down properly outside of the compound.

"Good morning, Ms. Chambers," Klaue teased.

"Good night," she said blowing them both kisses and traipsing toward her room.

Erik walked out onto the balcony, his eyes seeking the comfort of the Caribbean Sea.

Find a sizeable chunk of vibranium. Get it to Ross and the C.I.A. Let Klaue get his currency and then take him out once they entered East African territory.

He rubbed the side of his hip. He had enough smooth skin there to place about five to six more body counts.

Erik made arrangements to visit all of his close remaining family members. That meant trips to Oakland, D.C., Martha's Vineyard, and Sao Paulo. A final tour before Wakanda and vengeance…

No. Not vengeance.

Justice.

Erik made plans in his head to study Busan more. Coordinate charting a private plane to get in and out of South Korea quickly. The C.I.A. would be on high alert with an exchange of vibranium on the line. Several contingency plans would have to be made if their cover was blown. A four-person team could do a lot by being efficient, but they'd have to know the lay of the land intimately. Erik's Korean was rusty, but his childhood friend Walter could help out with that. An extended stay in Oakland and visit's to Walter's grandmother would have him up to speed in no time. His ear for languages was uncanny, and Walter's grandmother was crazy about him. She'd be ecstatic to speak in her native tongue with him. He'd have to do some self-study to capture the dialects near Busan for nuance and slang.

"How is Yani?"

Erik was startled to hear Klaue ask about her. The man stood and watched the sea with him.

"I hear things, Killmonger."

"Like what?"

Erik's face turned to stone as he watched Klaue's face.

"Don't get hostile, mate. I know you have feelings for her. That whole severance package ruse gave you away. I'm going to have a barbecue tomorrow night for the crew. A farewell to the island gathering. I'll invite her. Think of it as a present for you. Another reward for work well done here."

The fuck?

Talking about Yani like she was some slave girl he could pass around as he saw fit? Erik's left fist clenched and he counted down from fifty to zero in his head hoping he wouldn't be impulsive and reach for the Glock strapped to his thigh. The itch to blast the man where he stood was strong.

"Do what you want."

"It's what you want. Hell, she can stay the night if you want."

"Why?"

Klaue shrugged.

"Why not?"

It was tempting. Having her next to him there and not having to sneak off. Having her in their bed again.

He turned to look at the sea again. His eyes were wistful. The yearning to stay so strong in his bones.

All he had to do was step away…

###

He's not happy to have her around the compound.

Yani eats from a paper plate while sitting on a deck chair near the pool. Klaue mans the barbecue grill there and the rest of the mercs eat, talk and drink. Leona sits next to Yani with her own plate.

Shipley controls the music and loud 90's rap plays. Erik eats from his plate as he pretends to conversate with Limbano. Linda drinks beer and laughs hard at whatever Neal and the other mercs are talking about.

Erik tries his best not to stare at Yani, but he can't help himself. Life comes at him faster now, and he knows these are the last days he will be near her and it stresses him.

"Here, have some more shrimp," Klaue says, piling two wood skewers on his plate.

Yani's eyes catch his and she smiles at him. He accepts the love he sees there but doesn't smile back. He doesn't want the others to see how he really feels about her.

Cee Cee walks down to the pool area carrying more beer and a full bottle of rum and Shipley takes the rum and heads to the minibar.

"Killmonger!"

Limbano waves at him with Linda.

"We're going down to the gun range. Trying out the new Glocks."

Erik leaves his plate on a pool deck table and follows them. Passing by Yani, her eyes looked worried.

"Yani, come with?" Linda asked.

Erik stares at Linda and then back at Yani.

"You always watch us down there. Come see it up close," Linda cajoled.

"No thank you, I'm just going to relax—"

"Go on down. I need to speak with your Aunt privately," Klaue said.

Yani's eyes flicked over to her Aunt and cousin before they rest on Erik's face again. Linda strolled over and grabbed Yani's hand.

"I'll show you how to shoot," Linda said.

"I know how to," Yani answered.

Linda stopped and looked her over.

"Really?"

Yani nodded.

"This should be fun then," Linda said looking at Erik when she said it.

Yani followed them down to the range and Erik felt his body get tense.

Everyone put on protective eyewear and earplugs. Erik watched Shipley unlock a gun crate full of the new Glocks Klaue brought to the island.

The mercs took turns shooting and Erik cradled a Glock in his hand waiting his turn.

"These are better than the Kabul ones," Erik told Limbano.

"New manufacturer."

"You want next?" Linda asked Yani who stood behind everyone.

Erik knew she was still nervous around guns, and it didn't help there were so many weapons being waved around. Linda was also acting a little too sweet with Yani, treating her like a real guest. Erik didn't trust her.

"No. You can go," Yani said.

Erik saw Neal looking Yani over. She wore some plain jeans and a t-shirt, but Neal's eyes danced over her body in an obvious way.

Linda took her place and fired off an impressive round into her target. The others commented on her accuracy and she cheesed really hard in front of Erik as the accolades made her head swell.

"Your turn," Linda said to Yani.

Erik handed Yani the weapon she would fire and went over the precautions with her again. He could see Linda smirking as she slipped her weapon into her holster.

Yani took her position and Erik could feel the others watching with amusement in their eyes. There were a few snickers when Yani took deep breaths from nervousness.

"If it's too much for you, you don't have to shoot…" Linda said.

Yani looked back at her.

"It's not too much," she said.

Erik held his breath, but he didn't need to. Yani popped off some accurate shots into her target and it wiped the smile right off of Linda's face.

"Damn, she's almost as good as you, Shipley," Limbano teased.

"Lucky shot—"

Yani shot up the targets of the others. Moving slowly across the range her accuracy got better and when she turned to look at them while changing the magazine with precision, no one said anything.

"Not bad, huh?" Yani said.

The men laughed. Linda didn't.

"Had us fooled," Linda said.

Yani handed the Glock back to Erik.

"How did you learn to shoot like that?" Linda asked.

Yani's eyes darted to Erik and Linda's face soured.

"Had a good teacher," Yani said. Her arm slinked around Erik's and he felt all the eyes of the mercs on them. Bad move.

Yani reached up and cradled Erik's face before kissing his lips.

"There it is," Shipley said.

"Ribs are ready!" Cee Cee called to them all from above the gun range. The others moved to finish eating, and Linda was the last to stroll back up after putting away her weapon. Erik stayed behind with Yani.

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't care anymore," Yani said squeezing his arm, "fuck her too."

"Getting bold, girl."

"I'm staying the night too," she said.

"Nah. We not doing that—"

"Klaue said I could stay. I'm staying. And we fucking too."

Yani stepped away from him.

"Wait a minute—"

"I want some ribs. I want Klaue to serve it to me."

"We can go to a hotel."

"No. I want to be in our bed. I want you to make love to me and I want that bitch to hear us."

What the fuck was happening?

"Where is this coming from?"

"I'm stealing every moment I can with you, and I don't care if they make fun of us for being together."

"I'd rather go to a hotel."

"I'm going to give you some good pussy in our bed."

Erik reached out to grab her hand and pulled her close.

"Talking all nasty. Girl whatchu—"

Her hands pulled his head down to her and her mouth smothered his.

"Yani, shit…"

He tried pulling back from her, his eyes sweeping up to where the mercs had dispersed. He saw Linda looking down at them.

Yani turned to look and saw Linda herself.

"Mind yuh business," Yani called up.

Linda walked away and Yani laughed at her.

"She wahn mi dick, but she can't have it."

Yani groped between his legs and Erik couldn't believe how brazen she was. It was turning him on.

"You tryna get into it now?" he teased rubbing her ass with his hands.

"We can do it right here. I don't care."

"You wildin', Ma. I like it though."

"I love you, Killmonger."

Her arms wrapped around his neck and he lifted her up.

"I'll always love you. Know that," he said.

She nodded and he kissed her. Soft at first and then he couldn't help himself. His tongue rolled out and she joined hers with his. Slow wide-open mouth licks that had their heads twisting side to side every few seconds. Yani's lips went to his neck and Erik groaned when he felt her teeth bite him and then suck hard on the skin. Her head pulled back from him and her eyes were hungry.

"I wahn suck yuh dick."

The purring in her throat made Erik moan out loud. He dropped her to her feet and adjusted his dick in his pants. Looking around he dragged her to a spot he knew that cameras wouldn't see them.

Yani dropped to her knees and pulled up her shirt so he could see her breasts. Her fingers undid her bra and when her tits were free, Erik unfastened his pants and let them drop to his knees. Yani cupped her breasts with her hands and Erik pinched her nipples.

"Stick out your tongue," he demanded.

She barely had her mouth open before he was stuffing his length down her throat.

"This what you want?"

Yani choked on his dick and her watery eyes were determined to keep his thickness in her mouth. He packed her throat tight and she fondled his balls.

"What if Linda comes back down here? You want her to see you like this?"

Yani groaned on his dick and Erik felt his balls throb and jump.

Her wet tongue ran down his length on both sides before she rested that sweet mouth on the spongey head.

"Titties all out…bitch…you want me to cum on your face?"

A loud popping sound occurred when she released his dick from her mouth. Saliva ran down her chin. "Cum on my face…" she whispered. Her breathy voice had him in a daze.

"That's what you deserve," he said grabbing hold of his erection and pumping his fist around it.

His eyes shot up to check for anyone watching, and he moved closer to her so his dick was right next to her face.

"You deserve all this," he said, "look at me…Yani…look at me."

Her big eyes pleading for his release made his cum hard on her face. He milked his dick until her face dripped with hot ejaculate. His jizz dropped onto her breasts and she smeared it all over her nipples the way he liked her to.

"Mi wahn more, Daddy," she hissed at him.

"Fuck, girl."

Erik fixed his pants and reached down pulling her to her feet. He dragged her down to Klaue's main house, her tits still out in the open as they slipped past security cams. He had her fully naked and bent over his bed, his dick plunging in and out of her while he choked her the fuck out.

"Getting fucking bold like that…you want this dick bad. You 'gon get it, bitch."

Yani threw that sugar-sweet pussy back on him and he stuck his thumb in her ass while choking her harder.

"Pussy 'gon be sore when I get done," he shouted.

He shoved her head down onto the bed and Yani arched her back so that her ass clapped on him.

"Fuck!" he shouted when he felt his nuts tighten, "turn over!"

He pulled out and Yani scrambled onto her back. He sprayed semen all over her chest and stomach, his yelling loud enough to surprise himself.

He dragged his eyes all over her body while she squeezed her tits for him.

"Fuck me again," she commanded.

"Damn…Yani…let a nigga recuperate."

She laughed and closed her legs. Sitting up she reached out and stroked the keloids on his stomach.

"Mi gwine wear yuh out, man," she said.

He closed his eyes savoring the tone of her voice.

She was his. This sweet island girl with the baby that made him fall in love with this life.

Erik sat next to her on the bed.

"Yani…what if…what if I decide—"

"Killmonger, you better get these ribs before they disappear."

Shipley's voice was perverse and loud over the intercom system.

"We should eat. Get nourished before we go at it again," Yani said jumping off the bed.

Erik watched her run into his bathroom to shower and he sat on his bed thinking of what he was about to tell her. His mind was filled with doubts and jumbled thoughts, but he wanted to talk to her about staying. Giving up the life. But in that split second of Shipley disrupting his words, Erik decided not to say anything. He was delirious with the sex and his mouth was only going to say something in the heat of the moment that he couldn't back up once he really thought it through once his hormones cooled off.

Yani walked out with a towel wrapped around her.

"I'll wait for you to clean up," she said plopping back on the bed.

Erik plodded over to the shower.

"What were you saying before Shipley called you?"

"Um, nothing important. Just…should I dress up for Kendall's thing?"

"If you want to."

"We should. Let's show out. Wear that white dress again—"

"I have something in mind I think you'll like better."

"Showing ass?"

"Maybe."

He heard her laugh and it was the most precious thing to him at that moment.

###

Yani went to grab a bottled water from the middle house when Linda confronted her.

"What were you yelling at me down at the gun range?"

Linda was taller than Yani and tried to use her height to intimidate her. Yani didn't back down. She held the water in her hand and glared at the woman.

"I told yuh to mind yuh business."

"Just cuz he fucks you doesn't mean you're special to him."

"Yuh talkin' from experience?" Yani asked.

"Killmonger and I have a relationship you would never understand—"

"Relationship? Tuh. He fucked you one time—"

"Is that what he told you? To spare your little feelings? You are so naïve. Doesn't matter. He's leaving with me and you won't see him again once we bounce off this tiresome island. Enjoy what you can get."

The smirk on Yani's face faltered.

Linda looked her up and down.

"You're lying. He's not sleeping with you."

"Believe what you want. Like I said, get what you can get."

Yani refused to leave the room. That was probably what Linda wanted her to do. Go running off into the night and leaving Erik behind for her to pester.

"I'm getting a lot—"

"Thots usually do—"

Yani laughed with bitterness.

"What do you get out of doing this? Alla we can see you're pretty, can have anyone yuh want. Who am I to yuh, gyal? Compettition? Mi the first woman tuh block yuh? If him want yuh pum pum, him be in yuh bed, not mine—"

Linda pushed up on her and poked her finger in Yani's face.

"You are trash—"

"Him no wahn yuh. Let him go."

Yani's hand slapped Linda's finger away and Linda knocked the water bottle out of Yani's hand.

"For real? Yuh wahn do this in Klaue's house, bitch?"

Yani stepped back, her fists balled up and ready to knock Linda into Kingdom come. The woman's face was twisted up in an ugly scowl.

"Why are yuh so hateful…?"

Yani took in all of Linda's energy and then it struck her.

She was in love with Killmonger too.

It wasn't petty jealousy or catty girl bullshit. This woman before her had feelings for the man she was in love with too.

But Killmonger loved Yani. And Linda couldn't deal with that.

Yani unclenched her fists.

"I'm sorry he doesn't love you."

"What?!"

"Yuh hate me because of that—"

"Shut the fuck up—"

"I'd be mad at mi too if that man didn't love mi the way he does—"

Yani felt the slap sting her face and her first reaction to jump the woman was thwarted fast when Klaue walked in. Yani grabbed a hold of Linda's shirt and Klaue jumped between them blocking them from one another.

"Stop it!" Klaue yelled, but his face showed amusement.

"Make her leave!' Linda yelled.

Neal walked in and grabbed Yani's hand when she reached down to throw the bottled water in Linda's face.

"Let go of me!" Yani said shaking him off of her.

"What are you two fighting about?" Neal asked, "Is this over Killmonger? Linda, for real?"

Neal laughed out loud.

"Killmonger! Yo man, you got your bitches in here fighting each other!"

Linda rolled her eyes and stepped away from Klaue. Her face was turning pink.

"She's about to get her ass beat," Yani yelled.

"By who? You?!" Linda shouted back.

Yani sucked her teeth and threw the bottle. It hit Linda in the face and she lunged for her. Klaue pushed Linda back.

"Calm yourself, Chambers," Klaue warned.

Erik walked in with Leona and Cee Cee behind him. His eyes went to Yani's immediately.

"Nigga you are the cause of this ruckus," Neale cackled.

Linda stormed out past him and Yani looked around in embarrassment when her Aunt and cousin gave her a look of shame.

"I'm sorry," Yani said to Erik, "she started it and I was 'bout tuh finish it."

"Let's just go outside, eat a little, drink a little. Relax and enjoy this last time together," Klaue said.

"I'm going home," Yani said.

She picked up the bottle she threw and place it on the kitchen counter.

"Thank you for inviting me Mr. Klaue. Have safe travels," Yani said brushing past her Aunt and cousin.

Erik bounded after her.

"What happened?" he asked.

They saw Linda stomping down toward Klaue's main house. Erik followed Yani up to the front of the compound. She stopped in front of her car.

"She's in love with you."

Erik's eyes blinked.

"You didn't know?"

Yani wrapped her arms around her stomach.

"How long have you worked with her? Over a year? You didn't notice anything?"

"She don't love me—"

"Yes. She does. She hates me because you don't love her…or maybe…maybe you do in a way. God, Killmonger…"

"It don't matter."

"It does. You're about to go off and do God knows what with Klaue and she's going to be by your side. In love with you. Willing to do anything for you. I feel sorry for her. I was about to fight that bitch over you. We look so stupid in front of these men."

"I can't help how she feels, Yani."

"That's why I'm leaving. I don't like her, but I'm not going to stay around here trying to hurt someone unintentionally. I wanted to fuck you in that bed just so she could hear us tonight—"

"You still can."

Erik smiled at her and Yani laughed when she really didn't want to. It was all so messy. And sad. If Erik didn't love her, Yani knew she would be miserable and just as hurt as Linda was.

"You don't have to leave."

"I need to. I don't want to be around her. I might fight her if she looks at me wrong again. She needs her ass beat, but her real problem is with you. Not me."

Yani studied Erik's face.

"You don't feel anything for her?"

"She's just a colleague. We fucked—"

"Once?"

"A couple of times over a twelve-hour period. That was it. We get along. Nothing more. Not since you."

"What about when we…separated?"

"We not sleeping together. Can we squash this speculation?"

Erik looked around the area.

"Let's go to a hotel," he said.

Yani stepped close to him and touched his chest.

"No matter what happens with us Killmonger, you need to work out shit with her."

"Why you pushing it, Ma?"

"I looked at her face. I know that look. She's in deep. I don't want her tuh hurt you—"

"Hurt me?"

"She's just like you. A killer."

Erik's face grew tight.

"It's what you all are. It's what's all over your chest and back. Your arms. I don't want you to leave me and have me worrying that she will do something to you. She'll do it too, just to get back at me. I know it."

"Yani…don't say that, don't be worrying about shit like that—"

He tried to hug her.

"You don't give me a choice!"

She threw her hands up.

"Tahir tried to warn me. Even you tried to warn me. But it's the truth. Yuh the bad man on the hill. And I love you. And so does another woman. A bad woman."

"Give me a minute. Lemme grab a change of clothes and we can spend the night away from here together. We can talk—"

"Nothing to talk about. Not us—"

"Yani…I want to be with you tonight. Right now."

Yani gave a big sigh and leaned against her car.

"Go get your stuff, man," she said.

Erik kissed her forehead and jogged away from her. Her cell vibrated and she texted Leona that she was leaving with Erik.

Waiting for him, the time ticked away and she walked back into the compound. The others were still eating and drinking and listening to music and her Aunt watched her make her way down to the main house.

Yani heard them talking before she saw them on the balcony.

Erik was perched next to Linda on the lounger that she and Erik loved when they were alone together. His voice was soft and Linda was close enough to him for their shoulders to touch. It looked serious and intimate.

Yani made her way back up to her car and her Aunt was waiting for her.

"What is going on?" Leona asked.

"Killmonger has to deal with Linda. She has feelings for him and it's just…messy."

"How do you feel about her loving him?"

"I don't like it. But…how could she not? I mean. I love him Auntie. I love him so much and he's leaving me. She'll be with him and I'll never see him again. So I'll always wonder about them being together—"

Her chest heaved and Yani threw her hands over her face.

"Oh, Yani. I wish you could find the right one for once."

"But I did. I just can't keep him. That's not my fault."

Leona hugged her and the smell of her Aunt's lavender lotion and hair grease soothed her. The familiar smells of family.

"I love him too much, Auntie."

"I know. I see it. He loves you too. It's so obvious."

"Hey," Erik said.

Yani pulled back from her Aunt and wiped her eyes.

"You were talking to her?" Yani asked.

Erik's eyes flicked away from looking at Yani directly.

"Yeah."

Leona patted Yani's back.

"Goodnight, Erik," Leona said.

Leona's eyes watched them both.

"Be good to each other," she said walking away from them.

"How did she take it?"

He shrugged.

"Killmonger—"

"I don't want to talk about her. Let's go. I just wanna be with you right now."

He tossed his small duffle bag into her car.

"I'll drive," he said.

She handed him her keys.

He chose a hotel on the other side of the island and she called her parents to tell them she would pick up Sydette in the morning.

Their lovemaking was slow.

Gentle.

Erik's hands touched her everywhere and in every way possible. His lips painted kisses on her skin from her forehead to her toes. He was deliberate. Methodical in a sexy way. His cell rang and when they both looked at his phone on the nightstand, they saw Linda's avatar glowing.

Yani shoved his phone onto the floor and straddled his hips.

She wore him out as she promised.

Chapter 26 Here

###

Author’s Note: “Wet Sugar” will end in two chapters. Shooting for 30 chapters to close this series out. Just know that a lot of what happens here will come back in the Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Series vol 3 &4.

Tag List:

@fd-writes​ @soufcakmistress  @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon  @thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514  @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy @sweetestdream92 @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bugngiz @stariamrry  @honeytoffee @meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees @eye-raq @writerbee-ffs @chocolatedream30

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 55

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, anxiety, SMUT

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

“Do you smell that?” his voice is a near whisper, corners of his eyes and the bridge of his nose wrinkled in obvious disgust, leaning sideways in his chair, getting as close as possible as he can get to her without practically sitting on her lap.  

It's nine in the morning and they're already at the hospital, the waiting room of the radiology department near standing room only; a mixture of both in and outpatients waiting for x rays and ultrasounds.

Esme looks up from the intake form attached to a clipboard in her lap. “All I smell is hand sanitizer and whatever they use to clean the floors with.”

“Are you sure that's all you smell? That's it?”

She nods. “Why? What do you smell?”

“It smells like death.”

It's the PTSD. She's dealt with many a triggering episode in the past five and a half years. Anything out in public can cause an immediate and extremely negative reaction;  as simple as someone slamming a vehicle door too hard or even a car backfiring. Fireworks are a nightmare; the Fourth of July an extremely stressful time for him, made even worse by wanting to do things with -and for- the kids for the holiday.  She often wonders how he manages when he's on the job; rifles and handguns being the weapons of choice after all. But he'd once explained that when he was 'the zone', he didn't really hear anything. He'd become so accustomed to the using weapons that he could block the sound completely out.

Hospitals have always been a hit or miss. Some appointments go smooth and without any triggering moments. Where he's completely calm and relaxed and nothing bothers him. Others are a disaster right from the get go. Everything from the lights being too bright, to too many people in scrubs, to the beeping of various monitors.  Today is somewhere in between bad and mediocre; a slight panic attack the moment they'd pulled into the underground parking lot, having to take the stairs (alone) because he couldn't stand the thought of being enclosed in an elevator, and now the smell.

She doesn't say anything in response; when he's this agitated, the less talk, the better. Instead she offers a reassuring smile, lays a hand on in back between his shoulders, and then returns to filling out the form in her lap. Sometimes simple touch is enough; that light pressuring helping ease the tension and calm the nerves.  Today he's wound extremely tight. Hands clasped tightly together and resting on his stomach, right thigh violently moving back and forth.

“I hate hospitals,” he says, and she can hear the slight panic in his voice. This is huge for him; having to fight his own fears and his own demons while trying to help her.  It breaks her heart; that this big, strong, seemingly fearless man has to battle with such a powerful, invisible force. Even when it comes to trying to support his own wife during what should be an exciting, happy time.   But there's pride as well; that he's so determined to be by her side and he's handling his own discomfort and suffering so well.

She places the clipboard on the small table beside her, then grabs her bag from it rests on the floor between her feet; rummaging through it until she finds a bottle of prescription meds. Proceeding to twist off the lid, dump three small pills into her palm, and then offer them to her husband.  No words are needed. He doesn't need them. And he gives a small smile of appreciation, presses a small kiss to her forehead and then takes the meds from her, placing them under his tongue and waiting for them to dissolve.  She hates this for him; the struggle he has with his mind.  And she notices the way the young couple sitting across the way keeps watching them. Maybe it's his sheer size; , long and leggy, the broad shoulders and the muscular chest and the powerful arms. Maybe it's even the mixture of the tattoos and the various scars that are in such visible places. But she guesses

it's his behaviour; the shaking of the leg, the eyes that never stop surveying everything and anything around them,  his tightly clasped hands.  She glares at the pair sitting across from her; that one simple, dark look letting them know that under no circumstances will she hesitate in calling them out on their bullshit.  And her hand moves from between his shoulders to the back of his neck; fingernails lightly scraping just under the band of his baseball cap.

It only takes a few seconds to work; the shaking of the leg stopping and his hands slightly relaxing.  When they'd first sat down, it had been the repetitive actions of removing his hat, running his hand through his hair, putting his hat back on. Several minutes of the same until she'd had to redirect him by getting him to go into the hall and get her a bottle of water from a vending machine. The OCD tendencies are extremely rare and don't flare up often, but when they do, the only thing that is successful in getting him to stop whatever he's doing is to give him something else to concentrate on. Once that happened, he never went back to the other.  Now he's moved on to fidgeting with his wedding ring; repeatedly pulling it up to the knuckle and then pushing it back down, sometimes just rubbing the pad of his thumb against the smooth metal.  It's relatively harmless, until he manages to rub the skin underneath completely raw.

“Do you want to take this up for me?” she asks, as she holds out the clipboard.

It gives him something to do; a simple task that will take his mind off whatever thoughts are plaguing him.  It's a temporary fix , but it gives him some relief at least.   And she watches him as he heads off, noticing the attention he seems to attract everywhere they go. He exudes confidence; sure in his ability to handle any and all situations that come his way. And it's that confidence that draws peoples interest; a man of few words that can express more in his body language and facial expressions than in an entire sentence.  And of course, the ladies like him; young and old.  What's not to like? The face, the blue eyes, the insane body.  

It's only thirty feet, but when he returns he's calmer; whether it's from the redirection of the medication kicking in, or even both. But he's stopped fidgeting and his eyes aren't darting around with the same intensity they were before, and there's no longer sweat linger at his temples or the band of his baseball cap.  And he when sits, he just stretches his legs out instead of shaking them, and he drapes an arm across her shoulders, hand resting on her upper arm.  A different person, just like that.  Which in turn helps her to relax, and she leans into him,  head resting back on his shoulder, hand on his thigh.

“I have to pee,” she announces. “So bad.”

“You can't. That's the rules.”

“Screw the rules. I feel like I'm going to explode. It hurts.”

“Well go and let a little bit out,” he suggests.

“Have you ever tried to pee just a little bit? It doesn't work that way. I hope it's not too much longer. Because I don't know how long I can sit here having to go this bad.  Do you still smell it? What you were smelling earlier?”

He shakes his head. “It's gone now.”

There was nothing ever there of course, although he doesn't realize that. He associates the normal smells of a hospital with death. Not surprising, considering how close to death he'd actually come and how long he'd had to stay cooped up with various wires and tubes attached to nearly every available spot on his body.

“Remember the first ultrasound we had for the twins?” she asks. “When we found out there was two? You looked like you were going to faint.”

“I went in there expecting one. So when they tell you there's two of everything...”

“You were probably just worried it was two girls.”

“That's not a lie. That is exactly what I thought at first.  How the hell am I going to deal with two more girls? I didn't want to be that outnumbered. I was already getting bossed around and there was just you and Millie was still tiny.”

“A tiny dictator,” Esme concludes. “That's because you'd pick her up every time she made even the smallest noise. You wouldn't leave her alone. Now she's five and you're totally wrapped around her little finger. You complain about being a whipped husband? Oh no. She's the one that has you completely whipped.”

“She hasn't gotten me to wear the tiara yet. She hasn't broken me completely.”

“Give it time,” she laughs, and rubs his thigh. “She's only five. There's tons of time left.”

Her cell phone...in the bag once again on the floor between her feet,,,begins to ring and he leans down to grab it for her; helping keep any unnecessary pressure off of her already full and extremely nervous bladder. There's no secrets between them; able to go in and out of each other's belongings without question or permission, and he pulls out her phone and checks the call display. Immediately frowning.

“Your mother.”

Esme groans. “That's the fifth time since we left the house.”

“Want me to text her and tell her to fuck off?”

“Next time answer. That'll scare the shit out of her and she'll probably hang up.”

“Or she'll lose her shit on me. I'm kind of hoping she does. That way I can just snap. You'll let me, right?  Snap? Just this once? Normally you don't let me flip my shit on her. And I really want to.”

“It's been five and a half years in the making. She has it coming. How cute you are you?” she reaches up to rub her palm against his cheek, the bristles of his beard tickling her skin. “Wanting to defend my honour.”

“It's her goddamn fault we're even here right now.  What is something worse had happened? Not just stitches and a concussion. What if you'd lost the baby because of her bullshit.”

“Tyler, let's not even think about things like that, okay?”

The leg starts to shake again, and she moves her hand over to to it.

“Don't dwell on what didn't happen,” she says.  She knows him far too well; how his mind works when the PTSD kicks in. Obsessing over things that either never happened, or he fears will. “Everything is fine and we're just here for a more in depth ultrasound. Not because there's a problem. Hey...” she squeezes his knee.  “....calm down just a bit, okay?”

“I hate hospitals.”

“I know. But you're doing fine. You're doing fine and I'm proud of you.”

That finally brings a smile to his face, and he lays his hand over top of hers, gripping it tightly.

“You can go wait in the hall,” she suggests.

“The hall is still the hospital.”

“Just calm down. Just take a breath. You're doing fine, Tyler. I know how hard this is for you. Being here. And I love you for doing this. For going so far out of your comfort zone.”

“I wasn't going to let you come alone. Not like you made the kid on your own. I just...” he sighs heavily.  “...I just fucking hate hospitals.”

“It's okay,” she assures him, and tightens her hold on his hand. “You're fine. You're fine and you're doing amazing.”

Even the biggest and toughest need validation and reassurance.

****

The ultrasound had showed no abnormalities; everything developing properly, heart strong and healthy, growth right on track. It's a huge relief; the news putting all of their fears and worries to rest. The doctor's appointment had been slightly disappointing. The IV could come out, but weekly tests would monitor her keytone levels and the IV would be put back on (for much longer this time, maybe even through the rest of the pregnancy).  The numbers had been shockingly bad when she'd been brought into the ER and easily could have escalated to kidney damage or failure. She'd been given an order to eat more now that the Zofran was in her system and working; a ten pound weight less at this stage of the game being completely unacceptable, according to the doctor.  She needed to hydrate, eat, get proper sleep, and stress less.  Sex however, was allowed. Just nothing too vigorous or rough.

“Well there goes all the things we like,”  Esme had quipped, getting a laugh from the doctor but a glare from Tyler.

The house is empty when they get back, and they take full advantage of it. Eager and needy hands yanking at -and removing- clothes before the bedroom door even closes behind them.  There's a desperation to the way they touch, the way they kiss; hungry and intense, yet possessing a a sense of urgency. He leaves in eight hours for New Zealand, and the realization that this moment together may in fact be their last hangs heavily in the air. His kisses are deep and aggressive, yet his hands are soft as they explore her body; those callouses rough against her skin as they move along it, his weight holding her against the back of the door. Her hands are in his hair; tugging, twisted; his mouth on her neck as his fingers move along the inside of her thigh, slow and deliberate,making her shudder against him.  His touch is methodical, as if committing every inch of her body to memory, and she gives a mewl of disappointment when he suddenly removes his hand from behind her legs. Kissing her as he takes her face between his palms, using his size and strength advantage to push her across the room, until the backs of her legs collide with the edge of the bed and she topples backwards with a giggle.

She bites her lip as she watches him peel his t-shirt up and over his head. Even all these years and the extra pounds and muscle later, she is still turned on by the sight of him; the sheer power behind those solid muscles, the tattoos, the scars. All the the things that mix together to make him an incredibly beautiful man. The one who had both made her forget about anyone that ever came before,  and ruined anyone that may -for some inexplicable reason- come after him.

“Baby...” she sighs in contentment. “...you are so sexy.”

Tyler just grins in response; big hands reaching for her hips, fingers hooking in the waist band of her simple cotton panties and then yanking them down and over her ass, fingertips gliding along her legs as she pulls them down and then tosses them onto the floor alongside his t-shirt.  Her eyes fluttering shut as his mouth and his hands begin their slow ascent of her body, beginning at the side of her left ankle and then travelling upwards, lips and tongue teasing the inside of her leg as his fingertips drift along the back. Moving with such intent and purpose that she can barely stand it; anticipation building to an almost unbearable level. And when he reaches that juncture between her hip and thing, she's once more grabbing at his hair and his shoulders, desperate for more. To feel his mouth where she's hot and wet and ready for him.  

He decides not to prolong the torture. Placing a forearm across her stomach and holding her in place; eyes riveted on hers as he drags the tip of his tongue along her slit, then bringing it in direct contact with her clit. Watching as he eyes close once more and her breath hitches; the grip on his hair tightening.  He wastes no time; he knows exactly what buttons to push. How to use his mouth and his fingers to quickly bring her to orgasm. Loving the way his name sounds as it explodes from her mouth. And he can feel her entire body violently shuddering as he places a trail of warm kisses all the way up to her lips. Letting her taste her own juices on his lips and tongue.  Then he pulls back to look at her; pushing a hand through her hair, eyes searching every inch of her face.

“You are so beautiful,” Tyler breathes. “And I love you. I'll always love you. I want you to know that.”

It's important that she does know. That she hears it in his voice and sees it in his eyes. Just in case he doesn't make it back and he never gets the chance to tell her again. Not wanting to her to left wondering just what and how he'd felt.

“I love you,” tears sparkle in her eyes. “So much. And I've never regretted a single second of the last five and a half years.”

He kisses her; long, slow, tender. Wanting to remember the feel of her mouth against his, the smooth glide of her tongue, the taste of her lips. If this is the last time...if he never does return home...this will be the last memory either of them have of each other.  And when his end comes...if it comes...he will have had last this moment. Where no words were left unspoken. Where he showed her how felt. How he would always feel.  And her hand comes to rest on the back of his head, pulling him tighter against her, the kiss deepening and becoming more intense as their hands work together to remove the last remaining bits of clothing. His name coming out of her mouth in a breathless moan when his lips travel across her collarbone, one of his hands once more delving between her legs, the palm gently cupping her mound before two fingers push inside of her.  

Combined with the way he sucks at the top of her left breast -effectively marking her as his- and how his thumb swipes across her clit, it's too much for her anxious and needy body to take. And she comes a second time; not as powerful as the first, but just as incredible, her entire body arching off the bed as she heaves a long, content sigh.  His mouth capturing hers as again as he slides his arm between her and the mattress, effortlessly lifting as he sits back on his heels, his free hand tightly gripping her hip as he positions her in his lap, slowly lowering her down onto his cock. She cries out at the sensation; the feeling familiar, but amazing all at the same time. No man had ever filled her in the way that he does; no one else ever able to make her feel the ways that he can.  He'd long ago memorized each and every inch of her; finding all those secret, magical spots that drive her crazy,  learning just how and where she likes his hands and his mouth.   Both hands on her hips now as they gently guide each movement, matching each thrust he makes, his lips and his tongue teasing her breasts; taking those hard nipples into his mouth, alternating between gentle and aggressive suckling. Her hands exploring the hard, powerful muscles that make up his shoulders and back before once more pushing in his hair and aggressively yanking his head up towards her; kissing him with a ferocity and intensity that she'd never displayed before.

“Tyler...” his name comes out as a choked sob, her forehead falling against his. “...make me come....please...make me come...”

He slips a hand between them, once more finding that hard, slick nub; pressing his thumb against it and then rubbing in slow, smooth circles until she's coming apart for a third time. The scream muffled against his shoulder; her teeth digging into the skin; hard enough to break the surface and draw blood. And he once again places her on her back, still on his knees, fingers biting into her hips as he pulls her into him; filling her with several long, strong thrusts until he's coming as well. Body rigid, a low moan rumbling deep within his chest as he empties himself inside of her.  Waiting until he feels that last drop leaving him before dropping his forehead towards her, placing warm, moist kisses on her quivering stomach before travelling up to her mouth. Their breathing harsh and ragged as he kisses her; slow and soft. Her hand on the side of his face when he pulls back to look at her, hating the sight of those huge, hot tears that spill down her cheeks.  

****

Afterwards he lays on his side; her back tucked into his front, a hand resting on her stomach, one leg thrown over hers, eyes closed and his face buried in her hair.  Relaxed by both their lovemaking and the way her fingernails repeatedly glide over his forearm.

“Tyler?” her voice is quiet, sullen. The tears have stopped for now, but they are never far away.

He presses a kiss to the back of her head. “Yeah?”

“The selfish side of me doesn't want you to leave. It wants you to just stay here. Where you're safe. It doesn't want you to go.”

“That's not selfish, baby.” he assures her.

“But the logical side of me knows you have to go. I mean, they're kids. What kind of person would I be if I told you stay? To just let someone else worry about them? I'd want someone to find my kids.”

“Esme, it doesn't make you a bad person because you don't want me doing the job. You're just worried. I think you'd be a horrible person if you weren't worried.”

“I'm scared,” she admits. “I'm scared you're not going to come back. And I need you to come back. I can't do this by myself. Four kids. Five, soon. That's not what I signed up for. We were supposed to do this together. I'm not supposed to be doing this alone. I don't want to this alone.”

“You will if you have to. You won't have a choice.”

“I'm not strong enough for that. You have all this faith in me. You think I'm so strong and I'm not. I'm far from strong.”

He places a kiss on her shoulder. “You're the strong person I know. And you'd be okay. I know you would. That's the one thing that almost makes it okay. That if I die, I know you and the kids will be alright.”

“”I can't do this alone. I can't. I know you want to think I can. I know you want to think I'd be okay.  But I'd be far from okay if something happened to you. Five and a years is nowhere near enough.”

“We always knew this could happen. If I stayed with the job. There was always that risk. That I'd leave and I wouldn't come back.”

“But you always did come back. And now it just seems like you've just accepted that you won't. And you don't know that. You don't know what's going to happen. And you're talking like you do.”

“I'm not saying it will happen. But out of all the jobs I've ever gone on, this is probably the riskiest one yet. You even said so yourself; these people are far more dangerous than anything I've come up against. You know way more about them than I do. You've heard the stories.  And I've got to go in there and get two kids out. Not just one. Two.”

“You said someone would be with you. That weren't going to go in there alone. Tell me you're not going in there by yourself.”

“I'll have someone with me.”

“Like with you, with you, or waiting somewhere for you? Because that's two entirely different things. You need to take someone in with you. Not have someone waiting outside for you. Be right inside with you. Tell me that's what you're going to do. Tyler...” she rolls over to face him.  “...tell me you're not going in there by yourself.”

He gives a small, tight lipped smile.

“Are you serious right now? You said someone will be with you. And that means right beside you. Don't pull this shit with me. Not when there's only eight hours before you leave. Don't do this.”

“He's going in with me but he's not going to be right beside me. He's not going to be right on my shoulder. He'll be waiting somewhere so I can hand one of the kids off to him.”

“That's not good enough. That's nowhere near good enough.”

“Esme, I can't have someone up my ass while I'm trying to extract people. I just can't. I need to be able to go in there, do my thing, and that's that. It won't do any good if he's right there. That's only going to hinder me. I'll be worried about him fucking up and feeling like I have to babysit him.”

“I don't give a shit. I don't want you going in there alone. Not when you have two people to get out. That's too dangerous and you know it.”

“I've done hundreds of extractions,” he reminds her. “Hundreds. I know what I'm doing.”

“How many of them had two people involved?”

“None. But...”

“Then why would you even take the chance? Why would you even risk it? You need someone going in there with you.”

“What I need is for you to calm down. You heard what the doctor said. Stay calm, don't stress...”

“Easy for him to say when he's not married to you,” she huffs.  “You're kind of stressful sometimes.”

“I am? See all this gray hair coming in? That's all from you. It all has your name on it. I think I aged ten years just on the car ride to the airport,” he pushes his hand through her hair. He'd dyed it earlier; returning it back to his normal chestnut colour, some of the colouring still lingering on his hands thanks to the supplied gloves being way too small. He likes it better this way; it's familiar, it's comforting.  It's home. “It'll be okay.  He won't be right beside me, but he'll be there. That's what matters.”

“What matters is you coming back alive. Not in a body bag.”

He presses his lips to her forehead. “Baby, I wouldn't leave you unless I had to. Unless I had no other choice. You know that, right? That the only reason I wouldn't come back is because I am dead?”

She nods.

“I'm going to do whatever I have to to get home. I promise you. Even if it means I have to leave those kids behind. If it comes down to it...if I have to make a choice...I'm choosing myself over them. No matter how selfish that sounds.”

“It's not selfish. It's smart. It's survival. But I hope you don't have to make that choice. Because I know that will be on your mind for the rest of your life and you'll constantly question whether you did the right thing. And I don't want that for you.”

“I know you don't,” he presses a chaste kiss to her lips.

“You're a good person, Tyler. Whether you see that in yourself or not. I see it. I know who you really are. When you're away from the job.  I know the things that are in your mind and in your heart, and those are beautiful places. I know you see yourself as a terrible person. But if you could just...for once...see yourself the way I see you.  How I see you when you're with your kids. How much you love them. How'd you do anything for them. And how much they adore you. You're a big man with an even bigger heart. And you'll never convince me otherwise.”

He grins, “Not even in the forty, forty five years we still have left?”

“Not even then.  I'm not ready to let you go. It hasn't been nearly long enough. No matter how many times I complain that you drive me absolutely batshit insane.”

He gives a small laugh.

“But I'd rather you be here to drive me batshit insane than to not be here.

“I'm not going anywhere. Unless I don't have a choice.”

“I really do not want you to go.”

“I know.”

“But I know you have to. And I'm not going to stop you. Even if part of you wishes I would.”

Tyler smirks. “You really do know me well.”

“What? You think I've been asleep for the last five and a half years? I've been paying attention. I know what you're like and what goes through that head of yours. And you're probably the same way when it comes to me. There's things you know I'm going to say before I even say them. Or things you know I'm thinking. How many times have we finished each other's sentences? Or given each other the same look when someone has said or done something stupid?”

“A lot,” he says. “A lot of times.”

“Remember what Gaspar said? About how two broken people can't make a whole? That they can't heal each other, they can only make an even bigger mess of things?”

He nods.

“I think we proved him wrong. We're not perfect. Not by a long shot. But we're not the same people we were back then. Not even close to it. So we did heal each other.  And maybe we've got a lot of scars left behind, but we look what we've managed to do together. We have a life. A normal life. We have four kids and this little peanut...” she smiles as she lays a hand on her stomach.  “...did you really think five and a half years ago that any of this would be possible? If someone had have told you before you left for Dhaka, what would happen in the end, would you have believed them?”

“I would have told them they were fucking crazy.”

“Right? I would have said the same thing. I've someone had told me before I walked into that shack of yours that less than six months later you'd be my husband, I would have laughed at them.”

“Why?” he grins, and laying a hand on the small of her back, pulls her tight against him.  “Was I that hideous?”

“As if you could ever be hideous. And that wasn't a slight on you. It was just how weird my life was at the time. I was so caught up in the job and travelling from place to place and never forming bonds with anyone. So if someone had said 'hey, that's your future husband and you're going to end up with four kids'...”

“Five,” he corrects. “Well, four and a bit right now.”

“...I would have  thought it was the most ridiculous I ever heard. That wasn't what I had planned for my life. A husband, children. I thought that all went out in the window with Mark. I thought for sure I'd be single forever. That I'd never trust anyone again. That anyone would ever love me.”

“That was him putting shit in your head. All that bullshit he told you.”

“But then you came along and everything changed. Less than a week and half later, I was giving up everything for you. For some random Australian who lived in a shack with a chicken as a roommate. And it felt so right and so perfect. I never sacrificed anything for you. I just gave up one life for a better one.”

“This is better? Living like this? Having to put up with my bullshit and the job? How is that better?”

“Because you love me.  No matter how big of a bitch I can be or how much I nag you. Because you helped me make four beautiful children. Because of this little peanut...” she pats her stomach. “...Tyler, I don't regret meeting you. Or that things happened the way they did. Or that they happened so quick after that.  And I definitely don't regret that day on the Sultana Kamal bridge. And I'd do it all again if I had to. In a heartbeat.”

The honesty in her words...in her eyes...brings tears to his own. They've had a lot of heart to hearts over the things; sharing their deepest and darkest secrets, their most painful memories, their fears and worries.  But they've never had this. Where the the emotions are just laid so bare.  “I wouldn't change a thing,” he says. “Well maybe the choking you out part. I probably went a little overboard with that.

“Are you kidding? I know you were pissed, but that was insanely hot.”

He can't help but laugh at that, and he presses a kiss to her brow and lays his forehead against her. “I don't regret it either. How things happened. In Dhaka. In that hotel room. Maybe it wasn't right, but it felt right.  And I don't regret how quick things happened after that. Millie, getting married, all of that. Only thing I regret is what happened on that bridge. That you had to see the things you did. If I could change anything, that would be it. I'd change it so we just got the fuck out of there.”

“But wouldn't it change other things? I mean, if things truly are meant to happen, wouldn't changing one thing change everything else? Millie would still be there. We made her during those first five days. So she was going to be on this earth regardless. But would the twins and Declan be here? If we changed the ending and took a different path, would they ever have been here?”

“That's pretty deep, babe.”

“Say you could back and change the ending of Dhaka, but you knew it would mean that the boys would never exist. Would you do it? If we just walked away that day and you almost didn't die, but it meant we never had them.  Would you still want to change it?”

“No,” Tyler admits. “Not in a million years. I wouldn't give my sons up for anything. Any of my kids.  I don't care what I  had to go through. I'd go through it all again if it meant they'd be here.”

“Good answer,” she says, and he can feel her smile against his throat. “But there is one thing I would change.”

“Yeah? What?”

“The sewer. If I could go back in time, I would never let you talk me into that bullshit.”

“I didn't really talk you into anything, I basically told you to get your ass in it. There was no negotiating. It was get in there or get shot. You want to get shot? Because that's how you get shot.”

“Okay, so we'd have to change the Goonies from hell part too.”

“You just said we can't change anything. That if we change one thing, it changes everything. You're not playing by the same rules, here. If we get rid of the Goonies from hell part, that gets rid of the sewer part because we would have made it safe and sound to the bridge that night. So the next day never would have happened. See where I'm going with this?”

“Damn it! You aren't just a pretty face.  You're right.”

“That's twice in two days. That you admitted I was right about something. That hasn't happened once in five and a half years and now it happens twice in two days?”

“Don't get too excited. It won't happen again. You had a good run, though.”

“For what it's worth,” he rests his chin on top of her head. “ I'm sorry I made you get into the sewer.”

“You should be. That smell is never going to leave my sinuses. And for what it's worth on my end, I'm sorry I told you  you were like a bear with a sore asshole that first day in Dhaka. But you were exceptionally grumpy and mean and it was driving me insane.”

“I was only mean because you couldn't listen to simple fucking instructions before we went out in public.”

“Well I didn't like your instructions and you weren't the boss of me, so...”

“I was the boss then and I'm the boss now.”

“Yeah right! Baby, I just let you think you're the boss. I don't ever actually listen to anything you say. I just nod and agree and then I do my own thing anyway. It's how we ended up with a purple and yellow guest bathroom even though you distinctly said no.  And I even talked you into painting it. So who's the boss around here?”

He frowns. “You're sneaky.”

“Don't underestimate my abilities. I have ways of making you do things. You just don't realize I'm using the powers against you. Why do you think I put out so much? Because it makes you happy and agreeable and you're more willing to agree with whatever I say and whatever I want.”

“So that's how it works.

“That's exactly how it works. See? You're five and a half years in and you had no idea you weren't really the boss.”

“There are some areas where I'm still the boss. I don't give a shit what you say.”

“Yeah...like what? Name one.”

“I can show you one if you want,” he offers, as he slips a hand between them, finding the warm place between her legs, wasting no time in slipping a finger inside of her.

She squirms. “Just the one?”

“I can make it two,” he adds a second finger, chuckling when she clamps her thighs around his hand.

“I think you should make love to me again,” she suggests.

“Yeah...” he smirks. “I think you're right.”

[anoutlandishfanfic]

Metamorphosis Chapter 23: Darkness Falls.

The Premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night with Jamie? How would it change the plot points we all love?

We’re getting closer to the home stretch, folks!

Mad props to @thefraserwitch for taking the lumpy, wild bush I gave you and turning it into a beautiful topiary.  I dunno, she’s magic.

You can find previous chapters here or over at AO3

December 25th, 1743. 

The sun rose long before I was ready to do the same, prompting me to pull the blanket over my head and blocking out its eager light. Sighing heavily, I shifted, moving my pillows about in a vain attempt to find slumber once more, but it was no use… I was awake. One of the babies seized this opportunity to begin a splendid Highland reel on my bladder and I resigned myself to the grueling process of getting out of bed. 

This accomplished and relief gained, I slowly made my way across the hall to check-in on my husband. I prayed he’d slept the night away without mental or physical discomfort and that I’d find his hand to be well on the road to recovery this morning.

Please, let it be so. 

It was with this optimistic demeanor that I pushed open the door to Jamie’s room to find Dougal MacKenzie standing over his nephew’s bedside. 

My mouth went dry in an instant as I looked wildly about for Murtagh, but he was uncharacteristically absent from the room. 

“What do you want?” I choked out. 

Dougal didn’t budge from his place at the head of the bed. His voice dropped low in obvious threat as he crossed his arms. 

“You ken verra well what I want.”

Bile rose in my throat at the very thought of his hands on my body. 

I did. 

I knew exactly what Dougal wanted… me. 

You fought this battle and won once already, Beauchamp. 

You can do it again. 

I hesitantly took a step into the room, inching my way towards the opposite end of the bed, needing to be within an arm's reach of Jamie while remaining outside of his uncle’s grasp. I felt like the proverbial mouse, knowingly risking my life to retrieve the cheese while staring down a hungry cat. 

“I’m married,” I hissed. 

He accepted this as a minor inconvenience with a nauseating smile, “Aye… for now.”

I was close enough to see Jamie’s face — able to tell if he was asleep or awake for this interchange — and felt a small measure of relief as I caught the shallow rise and fall of his chest. 

He was breathing and his eyes were open, but Jamie was far from alert. He stared blankly up at the ceiling and my heart dropped through the floorboards beneath my bare feet as I noticed the dark red splotch creeping up Jamie’s right sleeve, growing larger with every beat of his heart. 

A cry left my lips as I ran to his side, but Dougal intercepted me. He took hold of my arm and I wildly reached for something — anything — off my worktable to use as a weapon in self defense. My fingers bumped against the ceramic water pitcher and I fumbled to get a good grip on it. I lifted it high above my head and crashed it down hard on his, water and shards of pottery raining down everywhere. 

Dougal immediately recoiled, letting go of me as he bellowed a slew of Gaelic expletives at the top of his lungs. 

I made it the last few yards to Jamie’s bed and threw myself down at his side, frantically searching for the source of the bleeding. It was his pinky — damn it — and I pulled the sheet off the top of him, wadding a large fistful up and desperately began applying pressure as I screeched, “What have you done?!”

Dougal’s laugh snapped my head around and he had the audacity to look amused at my accusation. 

“What have I done?” He parroted as he took one step and then two, moving closer until he loomed over me. “What have you done, Claire?”

Rage bubbled up inside me and I spat in his face, “Go to hell, Dougal!”

I quickly pulled the sash from around my waist and let my robe hang open as it may, modesty falling far by the wayside in favor of saving my husband’s life. Hastily, I looped it around his arm, just above his wrist, and tied it off in a desperate attempt to staunch the blood flow. 

“It’s your own fault, ye ken,” he continued above me, as nonchalant as if he were commenting on the weather. 

“You are the reason he was captured… if he’d stayed at Leoch, none of this would have happened.”

I involuntarily jerked at this, tightening the tourniquet to its limit as his words tightened the noose of guilt around my neck. I wanted to insist that this statement was false — that it wasn’t completely my fault — but my lips were numb, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. 

Dougal picked up on all of this, using it to his advantage as he bent lower, whispering in my ear, “If he hadn’t had word of you, he wouldn’t have been captured… ‘tis your fault Randall beat him within an inch of his life.”

“No!” I burst, pulling my head away from his and bending over Jamie, shielding him from Dougal’s taunts. 

“You ken it’s true.”

“It’s not!”

“An’ look a’ his hand,” Dougal scoffed. “He’ll either loose it or his life… you choose.”

“I can fix it,” I wailed, even as Jamie continued to bleed and my options quickly began to drain away. I tried to tighten the tourniquet even further, but, still, his life continued to slip through my fingers. 

“Did you no’ try that already?”

Dougal’s hand took hold of my chin, turning my face towards him as his voice deepened, a new urgency settling in his icy eyes. 

“You failed as a surgeon, you failed as a wife... How will you fare as a mother, I suppose?” he threatened. “Without Jamie at your side?”

I pulled away, my hand connecting with Dougal’s cheek with as much force as I could manage. His head snapped to the side with a satisfying crack, leaving a bloody smear in my wake.

Jamie’s blood. 

I was drenched in it, completely sodden in the life giving substance that I could not stem. 

Collapsing onto Jamie, I pressed my face against his chest, desperate to find a pulse within him.

A scream left my lips as I was met with complete silence, his body cooling rapidly beneath me. 

Dougal’s hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling me off of Jamie and bring my within inches of his, growing, “No’ verra well, I expect.”

I woke with a start, with every muscle in my body spasming as I was catapulted back into reality. The shock of it knocked the air from my lungs and a cry for help from my lips. I desperately tried to right myself, to shake free of Dougal’s grip, but his psychological hold on me was still strong. 

Gasping, I blinked rapidly as my clammy hands grabbed fistfuls of the sheet beneath me in a desperate attempt to ground myself, to anchor me to what was real. 

It was a dream, I chided myself. Just a bloody nightmare. 

My brain reminded me that Murtagh would not under any circumstances let Dougal in the room, but my heart needed to see Jamie in order to rid myself of the lingering cobwebs of my dream. 

Heaving myself up off the bed, I didn’t even take the time to dress, but snagged the top coverlet instead. I wrapped the woolen blanket around my shoulders and stumbled towards the door, pulling it open and crossing the corridor with as much speed as I could muster… a rate that would have surely made a tortoise cringe. 

I was in Jamie’s room a moment later and felt a giant wave of relief wash over me as I found it exactly how I left it. 

Murtagh leapt up from his place in a chair at Jamie’s side —I’d obviously woken him up, poor thing — and he blearily scowled at me, blinking heavily as he raked a hand over his face. He grumbled something in his native tongue as he sat himself back down to awaken more fully. 

“How is he?” I gushed as I crossed the room, returning to my husband’s side. 

I paid little heed to whatever Murtagh’s answer was, for I could now determine Jamie’s vitals myself and did so immediately. 

My hands flew to his face, one cupping his cheek as the other brushed across his brow. He was warm — too warm — and sweat was beginning to bead at his temples. 

Jamie’s eyelids fluttered at my touch, but he didn’t wake, remaining asleep for my examination. My fingers lowered to his neck, gently pressing to find his pulse beneath his skin. I didn’t have a pocket watch on hand to measure it against and yet I thought it felt fast. 

Temperature high, pulse rapid…

I turned my attention to his right hand and gently began to unwrap the bandages. They’d held up remarkably, Murtagh’s handiwork seeing Jamie’s wounds secure throughout the night, but my spirits sank as I they all fell away and I was forced to face the reality of Jamie’s hand. 

I had failed. 

At least, in keeping infection from taking root in Jamie’s most damaged finger. 

“Damn it,” I whimpered as I sat back for a moment in defeat and tears burned at the back of my eyes. 

I tipped my head back to stem them, throwing the bundle of dirty bandages onto the floor as I began to tremble and dropped my hands into what was left of my lap. 

“Damn it!”

Murtagh balked at this, suddenly realizing all was not as well as he’d thought it’d been. He lurched forward, stretching out his hand and placing it on my arm as he inquired nervously, “What is it, nighean?”

“His finger is fucking infected,” I turned to face him fully, tears streaming down my face. 

“Wha’ can I fetch ye?”

I sighed, “I don’t know.”

Yes, you do, my brain nagged me. 

You can fetch me a proper surgeon and as much penicillin as you can find. 

Murtaugh offered me a tired smile, his hand gently squeezing my arm in reassurance as he waited patiently for me to gather my thoughts… which were currently spiraling out of control. 

I was now living my own nightmare wide awake...

Jamie was quickly deteriorating before me. His infection had gleefully taken the hours I’d slept away to ravage what was left of his pinky, to run amok while my back was turned. 

Damn it, Beauchamp. You should never have left his side. 

I felt my throat constrict, my tears threatening to suffocate me, but I knew I didn’t have the luxury of succumbing to my emotions right now and forced myself to swallow them instead. 

Clearing away my reticence with a decided shake of my head, I blurted, “More whisky… Garlic or ginger if they have it… and a bigger knife.”

Murtagh stood to do my bidding without a word, then suddenly changed his mind and sat back down, placing a warm hand on my shoulder as he quietly inquired, “He’ll lose it, then?”

I couldn’t answer, but nodded as a sob threatened to burst forth. 

He left me alone with my struggles and shut the door behind him, silently leaving me at my husband’s side. Our voices and my examination must have roused Jamie for he began to shift about, unsettled by what must be a massive hangover combined with his postsurgical discomfort. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I teased, sniffing and hastily wiping my eyes. 

I reached for his hand as I desperately tried to school my glass face, all the while knowing I could hide nothing from my husband, and worked to have my smile reach my eyes. 

The scowl that had formed on Jamie’s brow quickly darkened as he cracked one eye open to look at me. His lips moved, but I hadn’t a clue what he said beyond water. 

This was sorted easily enough and I watched as the light slowly crept back into his eyes. There was an amused gleam twinkling in them an instant later and I prepared myself to receive something either incredibly profound or ridiculously irreverent from my husband’s lips. 

“Ye look a mess, Sassenach.”

“Me?!” I half laughed, half protested at the top of my lungs. 

“You look like you’ve been run over by a freight train, James Fraser!”

“Aye, well,” he grimaced, “I dinna ken what an afraid train is, but I feel like I’ve been trampled by the entire British cavalry.”

Not far off. 

I smoothed the curls back from is face, my thumb gently stroking his cheekbone — careful not to brush against the purple and yellowish bruise just above his eye — as I tried to explain the modern conveyance. 

“A freight train… It’s sort of like a hundred wagons tied end to end and pulled by as many teams of horses, but made of iron and steel.”

He looked suitably impressed as his eyes drifted back shut, commenting dryly, “Oh, aye… tha’ would do it.”

...

A Few Hours Later. 

Jamie’s fever was rising almost by the minute and I knew I needed to move fast. The last of the laudanum sat measured and ready on the table beside me, but still I hesitated, clasping Jamie’s left hand tightly between my own. 

I shouldn’t have left him. 

I should have removed more of the compromised tissue, been more exacting in my method and manner of amputation. 

I should have taken it all the first time. 

“Do it, Sassenach,” he urged, his gaze strong even though his voice and grip were weak. 

I nodded absently but didn’t move and he insisted once more

“Claire, mo chridhe,” Jamie squeezed my hand with all the strength he could muster. “It must be done.”

“I know… I just, I’m not so sure I can handle operating on you again,” I murmured hesitantly. 

“I ken, but you must.”

“Jamie—“

“Tis no’ but a finger, Sassenach. I’ve got nine more, aye?”

“It’s not that,” I insisted, fighting sudden tears. 

“Do you know how bloody hard it is to cut you open?! To know I’m causing you more pain than you’re already in? Or what about the fact that I have no formal surgical training whatsoever?!”

“You can do it, mo nighean donn,” a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You wield tha’ knife better than anyone I ken.”

“Know many surgeons, do you?” I sighed in frustration. 

“No, I canna say that I do… but, well, we both have our own pain, aye?

“Yes,” I swallowed hard, agreeing wholeheartedly. 

“Then maybe we’re strong enough to bear it together,” his voice as grew husky as my own, “for I ken we canna do it apart.”

…

Many hours after that. 

“Claire.”

My head snapped up as Jamie moved about in the bed, his voice waking me from a sound sleep. 

“Right here, luv,” I groggily responded, blindly searching for his good hand in the pitch black darkness. I finally found it, but then nearly dropped it as my fingers brushed against his burning skin 

Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, he’s on fire. 

My heart raced as I tried to remember how much water I had left in the basin and just what exactly I was going to do if that didn’t work. 

“I’m going to get you a cool cloth,” I blurted as I struggled to stand. 

My legs refused to do my bidding and I had a good many false starts before I finally got up to my feet. I’d fallen asleep in my chair at Jamie’s bedside after the amputation, that much was clear, but for how long I’d slept was anyone’s guess. The tingling sensation in my feet and crick in my neck told me it had been a good while, yet my eyes burned as though I hadn’t slept a wink. 

I reached out my hand to steady myself, muttering as I used the cold wall as guide in the dark, “Keep talking to me, Jamie.”

His shallow breathing was his only response and I wondered if he might truly be asleep after all. 

Sighing, I lit the lamp I found on my work table and wandered towards the water basin. I found the pitcher full and it’s contents cool to the touch and so I retraced my steps, taking a handful of clean clothes with me. 

“Let’s cool you down, mmm?”

Resuming my place beside him, I laid a cloth across his brow. The shock of the temperature difference seemed to make him agitated and he shied away from my touch, grumbling as I brought the cloth lower and cooled his neck. 

“I willna.”

I paused, not quite understanding, then slowed my touch.

“It’s alright,” I crooned, placing the cloth across his chest as I readied another. “I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

More incoherent mumbling followed this and I wondered if I should wake Murtagh. We’d need to try something drastic soon enough to get Jamie’s fever down, but for the time being he was objecting to the small ministrations I was doing and I didn’t think impacting him in snow would be worth it right now. 

No, I’d give Jamie a bit more time to wake fully and then we’d move on. 

“Claire.”

His eyes were open again and I abandoned the clothes to take his face between my hands, knowing my palms would be cooling enough to his cheeks. I twisted and bent lower in an attempt to bring my face closer to his, but this was cumbersome and not at all comfortable and I soon gave it up. 

“I’ve got you,” I assured him, my heart breaking at the agony I found in his eyes. 

“It’s alright, you’re safe.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No… you must go.”

“Go where, luv?”

I kept my voice calm, knowing that this was either a dream or fevered delirium and that I was not about to go anywhere. 

“You should not have come, mo nighean donn… you must leave… now!”

Jamie’s eyes were wide open, but he stared right through me, unseeing. 

“Jamie, it’s a dream,” I crooned. “I’m safe, you’re sa—“

“No!”

He struggled to sit up, grabbing for me and trying to pull me close. I moved as I could, helping him in hopes that he’d wake. His good arm looped around my neck as he held me tight and I quite suddenly found myself being strangled by my husband’s desperate affection. 

“Jamie,” I squeaked, adjusting his grip so that I could breathe, but he interrupted me again before I could continue. 

“You must leave… now, before Randall comes back.”

I pushed against him, slipping easily out of his weakening grasp and firmly insisted, “No, Jamie!”

He sank back, still shaking his head as he began to tremble. 

“Jack Randall is dead! He won’t — he can’t — hurt me or you any longer. He is fucking dead!”

Murtagh hastily joined us at this, entering the room and striding over to me with my name on his lips. 

“He’s delirious,” I sobbed, dropping my hands in defeat. 

“Aye,” came his reassuring low reply. “Wha’ can I do?”

Snap him the hell out of it. 

“Claire, you must go,” Jamie started up again, this time all but shoving me off the bed. Murtagh caught me and guided me up to my feet, holding me close as his godson professed, “I can hear him coming, Claire… you must leave.”

“It’s Murtagh, Jamie!”

Murtagh led me away from the bed and took my place at Jamie’s side as our patient began to thrash about, shouting, “Stop!! Let her go!!”

He began to speak to Jamie in Gaelic, making his voice as different from his godson’s demons as he could, but it didn’t work. 

“I said let her go!”

“Jamie, I’m safe,” I wailed. “I’m right here, it’s alright.”

Jamie’s head swiveled to find me in the darkness and he was quiet, studying me for a moment before turning back to face Murtagh. 

“Let her go in safety… let her go in safety and ye can have me.”

“No, he bloody can’t!” I screamed. 

Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, blinking into the darkness as he fought against the tide of his fevered dream. It pulled at him and he wavered, swaying a bit side to side. 

I surged forward, nearly throwing myself into his lap. 

“Damn it, Jamie!” I sobbed, wrapping my arms around him. “You belong to me!”

He jerked in surprise but didn’t pull away as I continued to spill out my heart. 

“You are my husband, James Fraser, and the father of my children… you swore to me, you promised me the protection of your body if I needed it and I bloody need it now more than ever.”

My tears fell onto his flushed skin and his good arm slowly came around me, his hand lifting to absently rub my back. His touch strengthened me, propelling the words out of my mouth in quick succession. 

“I need you to fight this! I’ve done everything I possibly can and now I need you to fight this like the fucking Highland warrior that you are!”

I pushed away from him just enough for me to grab his good hand, moving it to the place where our children lay nestled between us. I pressed his palm against them, nudging the lives within me and begging them to be the ones to break through to him. 

“Don’t make me do this on my own... I can’t,” I murmured, pulling him close again. “We are meant to be together… it’s the only explanation I have for all of this… the only way I can wrap my mind around what’s happened… it’s all been for you and me.”

He nodded slowly against me, turning his head to bury his face in my neck. 

“And if you take that away,” I hiccuped, trailing off as I tried to make my point, “the one last thing that makes sense to me, then know that I’ll be forced to marry again… Your uncle has been very clear about his intentions and your sons will be raised by Dougal MacKenzie if you don’t fight this.”

This hit home like nothing else I said had. He tensed and I sat back into a more comfortable position, allowing us to look at one another. Jamie’s nostrils flared and his gaze locked on to mine with a clarity that hadn’t been there not five minutes before. His good hand stirred in his lap and I picked it back up again, linking him to the lives who were also in danger. 

“You need to fight for them.”

I squeezed his hand tightly, my voice failing as I whispered hoarsely, “You need to fight for us.”

He shook his head, beginning to tremble once more, “Claire…”

“I know,” I swallowed hard. “but I’m right here… and I will be right here with you every step of the way.”

[omoghouls]

*Slams fist on table* Omo time with these 1960s lovers (so uh, omo themes under the read more) (Also on my Ao3!)

🌸🌸🌸🌸

"Here."

Nihil raised a brow, eyeing the glass in her grip.

"Little bit of liquid courage for tonight,"Sister says, placing the cup into his hand as he takes the stool beside her.

"I suppose a bit of an excess of that wouldn't hurt," he chuckled before taking the drink down in one swig, the bitter warmth coating his throat.

As he placed the empty glass down, another filled one was placed besides him.

[[MORE]]

"Can't have you going up there inebriated, this'll slow that down," she explained when she saw the curious expression on the man's face.

"Besides," she paused, "I would not want to see our Papa becoming dehydrated while bringing the word to the others," she purred, circling a manicured finger around his chest, a gleam to her eyes as she watched Nihil shrug before drinking the next glass.

"Good boy," she murmured, placing the glasses to the side before leaning back in, fixing the edges of his skull paint, smiling when she felt the warmth on the apples of his cheeks.

"Now, on you go, we've got a ritual to do."

--

He chewed on the inside of his cheek while the instrumental played. The urgent sensation traveled up his spine, causing him to shudder. Nihil clutched the hem of his jacket, resisting the need to dance on spot. It would surely be too obvious. He let the fabric crumple back to his side as the music played on behind him, signaling him to hop back in.

He could hold it.

He had to hold it.

While the crowd danced to the rhythmic beat, Sister smiled from the sideline as she watched him, even from a distance, she could sense the growing need within him.

What was unbeknown to the Sister was, those two brim filled glasses hadn't been his only drinks of the evening.

--

As the night grew on so did Nihil's need. The skin around his bladder became taut, a staticky sensitivity while it pressed against the buttons of his slacks.

A new thickness coated his throat as he tried to push his needs down, the slightest wavering crack to his voice as he sang. He swallowed dryly, shifting his weight from foot to foot absentmindedly in a subtle attempt hold everything back.

The movements, although the alternative motives being nearly unnoticeable from the floor, those closer by picked up on the strangeness of the 'dance'.

The hairs on Nihil's neck stood in attention when the looming sensation chilled his shoulders as the masked demon leaned closer than required.

These 'ghouls'(or so the olde one wrote in the text) were more, animalistic than Nihil had cared to admit. They were curious creatures by nature, perhaps in this instance, too curious for their own good. His bladder let out a small spurt, urine quickly being absorbed by his briefs.

"Ghoul," he spoke through gritted teeth, "Now is not the time," he gently nudged the weight of the ghoul's chin off his shoulder.

The ghoul simply tilited their head as they continued to watch the now frantic fidgeting of the Papa. They stepped back, going back to playing as the next song began.

As the music kicked up once more, Nihil's mind began to cloud.

The cooling dampness against his flesh caused his bladder to involuntarily relax further before clenching his thighs tightly together. Nihil nearly whined into the microphone, the pressure growing to be too much for him to sublet keep under wraps.

One more song.

Just one more song before he could make a B-line to the washroom he thought. He quickly glanced to the sideline, squirming when he saw Imperator standing there, seemingly watching him with, a deeper, curious gaze. His heart lunging into his throat at the head tilit.

His wandering mind was ripped from thought from the screeching of a guitar.

Ghoul's although unable to communicate as humans did, they still had their ways of seeking attention, bringing their Papa back to present thought.

The unannounced sound caused the man to become startled. Light chuckles echoed in the crowd as Nihil chuckled awkwardly, continuing on with the set, despite the warning signals from his bladder.

Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes, thighs trembling; knees pressed inwardly as the urgent nuance escalated to top priority.

He had to go, now.

Nihil swallowed back the lump, continuing on with the final verse. As if in slow motion, the singer collapsed to his knees, urine spilling down his inner thighs as the last words of the song squeaked out. His breaths ragged as he doubled over, squeezing his legs as tight as he could.

Murmurs filled the dance floor, starting in the front and slowly trickling to the back. Confusion as to what they were witnessing, was this part of the show? Some assumed that was how they ended their set and continued on with their mingling.

Sister Imperator was quick in her actions, a haste yet calm stride on stage. Gently tugging on the faux fur of the man's jacket, bringing him to his feet and guiding him down the small stairs.

His steps were reluctant, hesitant as the two walked towards the small hall. Imperator opened the alleyway door, pausing before turning towards the man, empathy in her gaze as she rubbed his shoulder.

"Papa," she began, letting her eyes finish the rest of her sentence.

Nihil whimpered, heart racing as he shook his head. He didn't want to make even more of a mess than he already had.

His breath hitched to a new octave when Imperator's hands roamed lower, resting atop his bloated lower abdomen. The man feebly attempted to keep the breaking dam from bursting however, the light kneading and cold air of the October evening sent him over the edge, he finally let go.

Nihil pressed his burning face into the nape of Imperator's neck, unable to mute the hissing noise as the urine puddled beneath his feet.

"I-I'm sorry seestor," he croaked out as the stream tapered off, the final droplets dripping down the fabric the clung to his shaking legs.

She looked down at the pooling urine between them before gently lifting Nihil's chin away from her shoulder to look in his mismatched eyes.

"It's alright, Papa. You didn't mean to, you barely got any on stage," she mused, her gaze taking a small tear away to the obvious trail that lead to the pair, "Accidents happen to us all." She added, caressing his tear stained face, rubbing off some of the smudged makeup.

"Nonetheless, I'll never be able to live this down, they won't want someone who cannot hold it back on their stage, " he mumbled.

The melodramatic tone to his voice made Imperator bite back a chuckle, always the one for the flair of dramatics, perhaps she was rubbing off on him a bit too much.

"Oh I'm sure by next weekend no one will even remember and I don't think they would get rid of the band that brings the best revenue to the place, hmm?"

Nihil was silent for a moment, a small smile forming on his lips as he leaned into her touch.

"You always know what to say," he murmured.

"I suppose it's a talent of mine," Imperator gave, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his nose, "Now, how about we get you out of these and something more comfortable, yes?" She said, gently placing a hand on his back as she guided them to the car.

A well deserved rest was definitely in order for the night.

[oneeyewonder91]

Day at the Theme Park

Hello everyone!!

Long time no see for sure. I have been standing in the background of Tumblr, observing and seeing a lot of great posts by awesome people. Congrats to @poopypantsaudrey on flying past 3500 followers and almost reaching 4000!

I have done some adventures over the past few months and can’t wait to share them.  

Well I am going to guess one of your reasons for reading this post is you want to hear a new adventure? Well gather your favorite snacks (MMM, crunchy Cheetos) and finding a nice comfy seat.

Submitted for the approval of the Tumblr community, I call this adventure How to Poop yourself at an Amusement Park

Back in March, I took a journey to the magical state of Texas to visit some family and to experience the Lone Star state as an adult. Last time I was there was as a little boy as an attendees for a family reunion and of course did not have the freedom to explore the things I really wanted to do. One of these things was to visit an amusement park. Sadly, where I reside, there are not many parks close by as our climate is not the best for outdoor fun most the year. (Our season are Rain, Winter, Rain Part 2, and Road construction). When I began planning this trip out, I decided that one of the things I wanted to do was make a public mess while at an amusement park. The rules of this were as follows: I wanted it to be a big park, I  could not inconvenience any other park goes while I was messy, and I had to at least pee twice while there and poop once.

I booked my trip and made sure to pack at least two extra pairs of burner pants (cheap pants I have started buying simply for these types of situations) and 3 pullups. I knew that things may get very messy, so I made sure to buy pullups with very tight leg bands so hopefully nothing would squeeze put the sides.

I spent a few days just visiting with family and doing Texas things (horseback riding, enjoying sun, and of course indulging in delicious BBQ and Tex-Mex cuisine.

Finally, on day 4 of my trip, I decided it was time. I have been sure to eat a good amount of fiberous foods and to grease things up with some big burgers and doughnuts. I held the stink train in me for a day and a half (and for me that is a long time, as lately I have been pooping twice a day).

I could tell the morning I awoke that I was full and in need of some relief. I told my family I was going to explore and would be back for more visiting that evening. I threw on a pair of pants, two pullups to keep things safe, and and extra pair of pants over that. It was warm and snug, but I figured that a little discomfortable from being to warm would be better than having messy leakage.

My target was about an hour away, so I swung through Starbucks to grab a large coffee and a sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich. Before leaving, I had avoided peeing, so as I ate my sandwich and washed it down with coffee, I could my bladder filling and starting to stretch.

Texas is beautiful country and I enjoyed the drive. I had also felt some knocking at the back end before leaving, but as I drove, the feeling began to reside, only emitting a few puffy farts from time to time to relieve a little extra pressure.

Arriving at the amusement park, I already knew today would be a good day,. First off, I love amusement parks. It’s the rides, the shows, the food, and of course, the atmosphere.

I purchased my admission and a Fast pass, so I could avoid as many lines as possible. It was almost noon and the park was not overly full. It was midweek and there were smattering of groups of people here and there. Some sections were fuller than others, and some seemed completely deserted. My need to pee was starting to get to a point where I knew the floodgates would open soon. It was time to find a ride to pee on. I am a fan of many different types of rides, but I wanted this one to be a more intense roller coaster. I walked for a bit trying to find the right coaster I wanted to pee on and finally dcided on one we will call Giant Coaster.

Before jumping in line, I checked to make sure my pullups were snug and that everything would be able to hold             together while the ride pulled some major G force through turns and over hills. Feeling secure, I took my place in line behind 20 or so people. The air was warm, the sounds of popular music were playing, and the anticipation of what I was about to do was growing. This was not my first time peeing on a roller coaster. I had accidently wet myself while riding a roller coaster in Missouri as a child because I hid the fact I had to pee from my grandmother. This would be a whole new experience

Nearing the front of the line, I started to worry. What if I did leak? How do you explain that? As the train I would be riding in approached, I took some deep breaths and assured myself things would be ok. I grabbed a seat at the rear of the train (my favorite place for roller coasters) and we began the slow progression towards the lift hill.

In order to increase my now enormous need to pee, I started to let out little dribbles as we began moving up the hill. Not big dribbles mind you, but tiny little squirts that I could feel slowly making a damp spot on my pullup. As we reached the top, my need to pee was reaching its climax and I was utterly bursting to release. The train teetered at the top of the hill, almost as if deciding if it should fall back or move forward. Then with a lurch, the train crested the hill and we rocketed downward. As my car finally began its descent, so did I begin soaking my pullup. I moaned softly with relief as a massive amount of pee began flooding each centimeter of the front of my pullup and it felt amazing to wet myself at such a high rate of speed, almost like to thrills in one. I continued peeing as we hit the first loop and the first corkscrew roll, and only stopped as we entered some large turns. I could feel the pullup had gained a lot of weight with all of the pee in it, and my bladder throbbed as if to say “Thank you! Oh thank you for emptying me!” As exited the train at the station after the ride was over, I hoped no one would notice the obvious puffy bulge the pullup was making at the front of my pants. One down, and a mess and definitely more pee to go.

I spent the next few hours wandering about, enjoying a few more roller coasters, flat rides, and of course people watching. There is a type of crowd that frequents amusement parks midweek. Kind of a cross between families with young kids, and young thrill seekers who may have a day off from work or college and want to ride as many rides as possible. I also ate a few different things in order to increase my urge to poop. Before eating, my urge was around a 3.5 and I could tell I would need to poop at some point. I then ate some delicious Texas nachos, a corn dog, and a chocolate ice cream sundae with banana and whip cream, just to get things all lubed and ready to flow. After all this, I had been at the park for around 3 hours and was now at a red alert 8 on my need to poop. But where to do it??

I knew I didn’t want to poop on a ride. That could create a mess for staff and could affect other park goers. I didn’t want to just sit down and poop somewhere like I had done before. I decided to be a bit daring. I walked around a little more, feeling things slowly sliding south, and the pressure on my butthole growing ever more. I started to let a few puffy farts, which is typically my signal that pooping will commence soon. Looking around, I realized that my journey through the park had taken me full circle. I was back at Giant Coaster. And suddenly, I knew what I wanted to do. Acting like I was just waiting for some friends to finish getting on and riding the ride, I learned against a low fence, sticking out my butt slightly so I was in a small leaning position. A quick look around me show that I was in direct line of sight to all those waiting in line as well as a food stall straight across the way where people were enjoying ice cream.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly relaxed my body and gave a slight push in order to get things moving. I felt the head of a hard poop breach my butthole and come to rest there. I expected it to keep sliding, but it just stuck there. I gave another push, but only received an airy fart for my troubles. This is a situation I had not expected: Usually my poops behave and slide out without much effort. I suppose what caused this sudden tough poop was the change in climate and length of time I had gone without going. I gave another push and felt the this big poop scrap along the interior of my bowel. Moving my legs slightly more apart and adopting more of a leaning on the wall position, I took a large breath and gave a big push. Things began moving and soon the poop was pressing against the fabric of my pull up. As I pooped, my bladder also started to release and I flooded my already wet pullup with even my pee. Push after push, breath after deep breath, I filled my pullup. As this enormous poop came out of me, it became softer and more of a mushy texture towards the very end. I was in heaven. This was one of the biggest poops I had taken in quite awhile, and to be doing it in such a public place was amazing. As I finished, I let a loud muffled fart as if my body was saying “Ta da!!”

Feeling much fuller and much lighter, I stood up. I could tell my pants were very bulgy, and I secretly hoped maybe someone had noticed this young fellow pooping himself. I started walking, feeling my solid, heavy movement sway as I walked. Unfortunately, I knew I would not be able to leave the park in this state. I was in a rental car, and I knew squishing poop on the seat, even with a towel, would lose me my deposit. But I wanted to squish!

I found a small stage area that had a few people walking through, but no shows in progress. Walking to the nearest bleacher, I quickly took a seat, feeling my massive mess flatten under me and push up into my crotch. I took out my phone, and popped in my earbuds, and enjoyed the sensation. I gave a few small bounces and feel the lump under give slightly. I also wiggled a bit, just to spread things around. When I finally stood up, I knew I had a giant flat pancake on my butt. It was time to clean up.

I was able to locate a family restroom on a map, which was more near the park entrance. I walked toward the entrance area, spreading carefully as I could feel that the poop had breached the bands of my first pullup, and were now moving into the second pullup.

I was finally able to locate the restroom and went in to clean up. Cleaning up took quite a while. Luckily, the brand of pullups I had wore held up quite well and I was very happy with them. I wash able to get all the poop off with lots of TP, and I disposed of the super mess in the bathroom trash can. I made sure to bag the pullups and the underlayer pair of pants with a plastic bag I had brought in my pocket. Unfortunately, the restroom stunk terribly from the cleanup, so hopefully it aired out before anyone else went in.

Leaving the park, I thought about the day I had had. I am really shocked at the size that poop was, and slightly disappointed I hadn’t wet as much. Oh well, more water or soda for next adventure. Once I got back to the family house, I took a good shower to make sure I was clean again and spent the rest of the evening sitting outside eating burgers and hot dogs with the family.

I know I have been gone for a while. Again, my sincere apologies. As I said earlier, I do have a few more adventures I have done to write up. Those will come soon!

Thanks for reading and hope you all enjoyed!

Until next time: Keep posting and stay wet, messy, or both!

[musutofu]

【 Sunrise, Sunset 】

♡ pairing | Bakugou x ᶠᴱᴹ Reader ✑ word count | 6.4k ✎ genre | angst ✗ warnings | unwanted pregnancy, slight body horror, character death ✮ A/N | an alternate ending

The other side of the bed is cold and empty when you wake. You’d expected it. Katsuki rises with the sun as a dedicated Hero should. Dawn is much too early to be noticing minute details missing from the apartment, or at least that’s what you were hoping for when you only left the most obvious evidence of your existence in place. The pictures scattered throughout the apartment, your shoes by the front door. The rest had been packaged and delivered to the apartment that was to be your new home from this day onward. You pack your remaining belongings and memories into the final box you’d hidden in your nearly empty closet. The last thing you leave is a note on your pillow saying that you’ve gone, and that he should move on without you in more words than you could articulate in person.

But you never mention why. There were already enough tears melting the ink into blue splotches on the paper. With a box on your hip and tears in your eyes you lock the front door and slide the key under the welcome mat. The further you get from the place that’s been your home for the last few years the tighter your chest gets. It feels as though there’s a ribbon tethering you to the life that’s no longer yours to live and it’s slowly unraveling with each mile. By the time you pull into the parking garage of the building that will–for all intents and purposes–be your new home, the tightness in your chest has given way to emptiness. You float to the elevator, weighed down only by the box in your arms and you worry that once you set it down you’ll float away as if Uraraka has touched you.

You smile ruefully at the thought of your friend and set the box on the coffee table to dig through to find the photo you have in mind. It’s a picture of class 3-A–your class–at graduation. Aizawa-sensei has the faint shadow of a proud smile playing on his lips as All Might stands by his side, smiling enough for the both of them. You can feel the happiness radiating from the photo and you wish you could go back to this moment. If only to warn yourself to be more careful. But it’s too late for that now. A tear falls down the curve of your cheek and splatters on your face. You quickly scrub it away from the glass with the edge of your sleeve and set the photo face down next to you. It would probably be best for everyone if you disappear. Just start over as a new woman. Not a Hero, not a sidekick, not even as yourself. You’ll be a nameless nobody until something inside you changes.

Nothing does besides the size of your belly as your child grows steadily inside you. There’s no release from the purgatory that’s become your life. When you sleep you dream of noh masks, of beautiful faces painted into a single express. It’s you that paints each mask with the same forlorn face. The painted face always looks devastated, yet resigned to her fate. It takes you weeks to realize that you’ve been painting your own visage onto each mask, waking just as you press the mask against your tearful face. But waking is more painful as you pretend to be a glowing mother to be, letting people touch your belly and coo at the child growing inside you. It makes you angry to see other women’s faces light up in awe as the feel the child quickening inside you. They’re living vicariously through you, if only for a few moments. It’s easy to see someone else living the life you want for yourself and knowing you’ll be there when you’re ready. You’re still a child and now you’re heavy with your own, face painted into a sweet smile as people congratulate you for your recklessness. But there’s no stranger you hate more than yourself. You should’ve been more mindful, more careful. It’s too little too late now.

A chip forms in your mask during a sleepless night. The child inside you has been restless all day and is giving you no rest. The only thing you could think to do is bounce around the apartment on swollen ankles, hoping the movement would rock them to sleep. It, of course, does the opposite. The baby twists and turns inside you as if they’re fighting to get out. You flinch as one of their tiny feet kicks out at your rib, there’s a kick to your bladder a few moments later and you cut your circuit through the apartment short to go relieve the pressure they’re causing only for a foreign wetness to gather between your legs and spill onto the floor between your feet. In your surprise, you pee yourself then cringe at the mess you’ve made on the floor. When you finally make it to the bathroom the pain you were told would accompany birth is flaring up inside you, but you ignore it in favor of a shower and cleaning the putrid puddle off the floor. You take a few more minutes to clean the apartment and make sure the nursery is in order before getting in the car.

You give birth alone. Fighting against the pain gnawing through your body like a rabid dog while a kind nurse spoon feeds you ice chips and wipes the sweat from your brow. You scream and wail, all the anguish that you’ve kept bottled inside you for the last nine months spilling forth with each pained shriek as you push to bring your child into the world. It’s long and hard and you want to die towards the end when the pain reaches a fever pitch that makes you wish you were being torn in half, because you’re almost certain it would hurt less. The pain goes on for hours that seem to stretch into eternity until it slowly ebbs like a storm breaking, then stops altogether. The white knuckled grip you had on the bed rails slowly loosens, fingers sore from being strained for so long. It’s not until you hear a cry that nearly put yours to shame that all the pain drains from your body. The heavy storm clouds part to reveal the sun that had been missing from your life for so long. Happiness rushes in to fill every minuscule crack and crevice of your body until you feel whole again as your child, still screaming and pink in the face is placed in your arms.

“Congratulations, Mommy, it’s a girl.” The midwife murmurs as you pull the blanket away from her face. She calms at your touch, wails turning into soft coos as she tries to make sense of the world she’s just been brought in to. It sets a final fissure in your mask and you wash away the remains with tears of elation.

“Hi, baby girl,” your voice sounds as watery as your eyes as you stare at your daughter. She unravels one of her grape-sized fists the grip one of your fingers, pulling it this way and that as she works to gain her bearings. “Welcome to the world, baby. Don’t worry about a thing. Mommy will look after you.” It’s with those words that you realize this is what you were meant to do with your life. The endless night that you’ve been stumbling through aimlessly has finally giving way to a rosy dawn and you’ve never seen anything in a clearer light. You didn’t have to save everyone or be everyone’s Hero. Just being her Hero–her mother–will be enough for you. She makes a soft noise in the back of her throat as you press a soft kiss to the pink hat on her little head.

“You’re so tiny. Your daddy wouldn’t know what to do with you.” You laugh. It gives you pause as you realize this is the first time you’ve mentioned Katsuki out loud since you left and the first time you’ve thought of him without melancholy tinting the mood. There’s still a longing that tugs at your heartstrings but it’s a bittersweet feeling, like seeing the person you wanted most happy with someone else. It hurts but you aren’t upset anymore. “Daddy has big hands and a lot of scars, too. I only have a few.” You hum to her as her tiny fingers try to map out the shape of your hand. She finds the raised edge of the scar in the hollow between your thumb and pointer finger. The tiny pads of her fingers work over the flowered shape of it before settling back on your index finger. You handle her as if she’s made of glass as you lift her tiny hand to your lips, laughing when she flattens her palm against your mouth.

“She’s healthy in every way, just a bit small.” The nurse you hadn’t realized returned informs you. You can’t look away from your daughter’s soft face to answer her. “What would you like to name her?”

“Yuuki,” you decide, “Bakugou Yuuki.”

Perhaps you should’ve picked a character that didn’t mean brave for her name because sometimes Yuuki is too dauntless for her own good. It would seem you’ve given birth to an untamable beast; boisterous and inquisitive, always moving in a maelstrom of infallible energy that reminds you more of a hurricane than a child. Her inability to be stilled or swayed by anything set in her path has only been bolstered by the manifestation of her Quirk. She’s been strutting around all day, loud and proud that she’d inherited a Quirk so perfectly balanced between her parents’. A potent mix of your Transformation and Katsuki’s Emitter. She’s wreaked havoc on your apartment that has truly become a home over the years, leaving piles of ash trailing throughout every room as she tests the limits of her emerging power. You half expect her to burst out of your arms in a brilliant explosion as you lay her beneath her blanket, but Yuuki has done an unmatched job at running herself into the ground. She bats her long lashes up at you, staring blearily as you sit on the edge of her bed.

“Mommy,” Sleep has finally subdued her and her voice is flooded with emotion as she reaches instinctually for your hand. Her fingers, still so tiny in your own, find the shape of your scar. She pensively runs her fingers over the healed wound. “Do you think Daddy would be proud of my Quirk?”

The mention of Katsuki, though not by name, has no ill effects on you anymore. Since the new dawn that rose with the promise of happiness after the bleak night without him, thoughts of Katsuki have been more prevalent and more painless. Now you smile at the mention of him. He’s Yuuki’s father, after all, she has ever right to know who he is. And she does. The hand that isn’t holding yours is squeezing a Ground Zero plushie.

“More than anything in the world.” You assure her. If Katsuki was anything it’s proud and he’d be more than satisfied with Yuuki manifesting a Quirk with so much potential, something that was so perfectly you and him.

“Do you think I can be a Hero like Daddy?” Her words are slurred and her grip is loose as she slowly slips away into her own dreams, but you answer her anyway.

“You can be anything you want to, sparkle.” She doesn’t hear your encouragement, or if she does her only answer is a soft snore as the last embers of her energy are finally burned out. She’ll be back to a roaring flame tomorrow, but for now you revel in the small reprieve her sleep grants you. You press a soft kiss to her unruly hair before leaving the room, flicking on her nightlight before closing the door. You find your way onto the terrace after sweeping up the evidence of Yuuki’s new Quirk, a half empty pack of sparklers in hand. You light one and wave it languidly through the air, watching the colors jump from the silver rod in a flurry of sparks. It’s a comforting display, one that reminds you of Katsuki. Of how he’d sit up with you when you couldn’t sleep, letting you watch a miniature fireworks display glow over his palms in the darkness of his dorm room. It was on one of those nights that you realized you were irrevocably in love with him and it’s on a night like this that you finally admit to yourself that you always will be. It’s because of that moment that you gave Yuuki her nickname those short few years ago. A reminder of the love you lost and the love you gained when you left Katsuki. You’re sure he’d understand if you ever told him.

It looks as though the ocean has taken up residence in the sky. Thin white clouds like sea foam float lazily across the clear blue sky. Kites wade through the bright sky at a leisurely pace, carried along on the cooling waves of the wind. It’s a beautiful day by any standards, made more lovely by the excited chatter of your daughter. It’s almost surprising that her jaw doesn’t ache from all the feverish rambling she’s been doing between bites of her yakitori. Not just her mouth but her body seems to be restless with uncontainable delight.

Your heart sings as the very stars fall from the sky to glow up at you from her eyes–your eyes, half hidden behind a shaggy mess of Katsuki’s blonde hair. It’s nearly untamable, much like Yuuki herself, and growing longer with each passing day. It was nothing short of a miracle that her hair was wrangled into a style fit to match her new yukata though it took a legion of hairpins before you could even add her kanzashi. Yuuki is less than pleased with her polished appearance, pushing the hanging tassels away from her face as she takes a bite of her kebab between words, barely pausing long enough to take a breath. She, like many others milling around the beach, are buzzing with anticipation for what’s to come.

It’s less exciting for you after years of seeing Katsuki put on much bigger displays with his bare hands, but in light of her Quirk manifestation you thought you’d finally indulge Yuuki’s wish to go to a fireworks festival. Seeing her smile at you with that missing front tooth grin makes the obscenely long train ride and even longer wait for the sun to dip below the horizon bearable. You toe a divot in the sand while Yuuki goes on about colors, wondering if they can really make all those colorful lights at once like they do in the videos. As she asks what colors they’d use for Tsukuyomi when his main color is black a tiny sand crab with its pure white shell glowing like a pink pearl in the light of the setting sun swipes at your toe with its little claw. You refill the hole you dug as apology but it skitters away to burrow somewhere less populated.

“Mommy!” Yuuki huffs insistently. You hadn’t realized she’d stopped talking. When you look up from the sand her kebab is standing point first in front of your face, a grilled onion next on the pattern of meat and vegetables. Usually you’d urge her to eat all her food so she could grow a liking for it while her taste buds are still getting used to new foods but you let it slide today, holding her hand steady so you can eat the offered onion. Once satisfied with the lack of a barrier between her and her meat Yuuki goes back to question this and that about firework production and history. She gets excited at the mention of the fact that some shells are only seventy-six millimeters wide but can burst to the size of a hundred and twenty meters.

“How big am I?” She asks, smudging grease on her cheek as she turns to look at you in the middle of a bite.

“You’re about ninety-six centimeters tall.” She’s grown so much since she was born and yet she’s still so small.

“So when I get bigger will my explosions get bigger, too?”

“Of course. And if you train hard enough they’ll get even bigger.” You assure her.

“Will I be able to move as far as you can?” Her teeth nibble on the end of her kebab in rapt interest and you laugh when it slips and falls into the space that was previously occupied by a baby tooth. In awe that you helped create something so precious, that you’ve got to see her go from a squealing and red bundle of sleepless nights to a agog Hero in the making, you press your hands to her cheeks and squeeze until her lips are puckered like a fish. She wraps one hand around your wrist but doesn’t try to push you away. However abrasive she is to strangers or people she decides she doesn’t like Yuuki can be quite affectionate when she wants to be.

“You can do anything you put your mind to.”

“But will I be like you?” Yuuki insists on getting an answer to her question that’s more grounded than a mother’s encouragement.

“When my Quirk first manifested I could only move a few centimeters.”

“Like me!” Yuuki gasps like the thought of you ever possessing such a small amount of power is ludicrous.

“That’s right. You had to get half of your Quirk from somewhere, sparkle.” If Katsuki were here he’d make a joke about his being the better half and you smile inwardly at the thought. Instead of saying what he would’ve you wipe the mess from Yuuki’s face with your crumpled napkin. The dango you had didn’t last long but it’s just as well. Old habits die hard and you think you’ll always be on the strict diet you upheld as a sidekick. It helps when you have to keep up with a tornado that’s even half as destructive as Lord Explosion Murder himself.

“Are the fireworks going to start soon?” Yuuki asks around her last bite of chicken.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth.” You scold instinctually without looking up from your phone. The sun has official set behind the horizon, dragging the ocean down with it. The water is a wavering mass of darkness further down the beach. It will probably turn from ink to paint once the kaleidoscope colors of the fireworks burst through the clear sky. “It says it starts at seven and it’s six fifty-seven right now. How much longer until it starts.” Yuuki chews her meat pensively before answering.

“Four!”

“Good job, sparkle!” You cheer. She smiles then offers you her kebab. There’s a green pepper just above her hand. She’s scorned bell peppers since making the discovery that not all peppers are hot. No matter how much you tried to convince her she refuses to eat the capsaicin deficient vegetable. The fact that it’s green doesn’t get any points from her either. You’re less picky with how spicy your food is when you aren’t preparing it and eat the last bit just as the telltale whistle of a firework flying towards the clouds erupts through the air. A hush falls over the crowd just as it bursts in the air in a brilliant display of red and gold. Had you been thinking you would’ve fumbled to film Yuuki’s expression, but admiring the look of complete wonder on her face without a screen between you is more than enough.

“Mommy, look!” One hand is shaking your arm while the other points skyward. “It’s Doraemon!” She exclaims. She’s just as enraptured by the Hello Kitty and Pikachu displays, but something distracts you from laughing at her calling the Pokémon display a nod to Chargebolt. A cold and heavy feeling coils in the pit of your stomach, black and ugly like a venomous viper. It’s the same feeling you used to get on patrols and adrenaline shoots through your system on instinct. The noise is barely noticeable, perfectly timed to each blast of the firework shells that continue to burst in the sky at measurable intervals. The display is far from over, but it doesn’t take much time to discern the space between each set off.

The noise that’s piqued your suspicion sounds almost like an echo. A softer burst just after each shell cracks open to spread brilliant light across the dark sky. You look around carefully, searching for even the smallest anomaly across the beach. After a minute of searching you almost settling on the feeling being born of baseless paranoia. That is until a shape is suddenly jutting out of the soft waves where there wasn’t one before. For a moment you think it’s simply a stone outcropping you hadn’t noticed but it flickers out of focus, splits in two, then solidifies a few seconds after another blast of light. The noise that accompanies its merge after a hazy separation is loud, but virtually unnoticeable as everyone’s focus is on the sky. You squint into the darkness, waiting for the next firework to scatter light across the parted silhouettes.

Two pair of bright eyes stacked one on top of the other glow in a face beneath a mop of soaked grey hair. The left side of their half obscured face is slashed with a scar that draws a dull line through their two left eyes and you decide that they’re the cause of your anxiety. But before you can pick up Yuuki and discreetly leave to find a police officer or Hero–since this large gathering of civilians usually attracts lower rung Villains looking to cut their teeth in the underground–the head becomes completely opaque without fading away into two figures once more and starts getting larger and less hidden as they wade towards the shore. Suddenly you’re a sidekick again and you’re training dictates that you not cause mass hysteria in an otherwise subdued situation. You’re sure this is simply calm before the storm, but for now you have to take advantage of it.

“Yuuki, Mommy has to go do something, okay?” She nods in distracted understanding. “I need you to stay right here.” The two of you have found a place that was in the shade of the boardwalk, far enough from the water’s edge that she’ll be safe if this dissolves into a fight. “Mommy loves you, sparkle.” Her full attention is on you then and that same gap toothed smile shines up at you.

“I love you, too, Mommy!” Her tiny arms wrap earnestly around your legs as you stand. “I love you more than fireworks!” She declares passionately as another colorful explosive lights up the night. It’s no small compliment seeing as she’s been obsessed with fireworks for weeks. You smile more so to reassure yourself before turning back to face the water. The person has emerged to a waist deep stroll through the high tide and you move fast to stop them before they get too close to shore, weaving through beach chairs and stepping over blankets with quick steps that remind you of running ladders back in high school. Gradually the parts of your brain that had deactivated once you turned in your resignation letter are turning on again though not as quickly as you’d like. There’s still a hint of human instinct in your Hero training though you hope it’s not enough to prove detrimental.

The tube straight skirt of your yukata hinders each step as the crowd thins enough for you to lengthen your strides. Without pausing you grab a handful of the waterlilies printed on the black fabric and tuck the corner into your obi. The fact that you might accidentally flash someone a peek of your underwear is inconsequential, especially since your original Hero costume was less than modest and was altered to be ever more ostentatious per your agency’s demands. As the figure continues to approach you take the time to fully examine them.

They’re large, larger than the average human. And not only do they have two sets of eyes but two pairs of arms as well. Your mind is already trying to work through what Quirk could result in two people combining into one being and your hunch is promptly confirmed when the next blast of heat is dragged from the sky as a plume of sand rises up in front of you. An impossibly huge shard of glass juts out of the sand though the confused murmurs around you sound to be prompted by the firework’s short time in the sky rather than the mounting Villain attack. Now completely sure this is an unwanted guest that is here to harm these civilians you toss out the laws about not using your Quirk in a public setting. Because while your status as a sidekick was revoked when you quit, your Hero License is still in effect for if you ever decided to return to Hero work. You’re glad for such a safeguard now.

A slight tremor runs beneath your feet as small puffs of sand lift from the ground. You follow them with your eyes, launching into action as soon as the next firework’s heat is ripped from the sky. These glass shards move with a purpose, shooting out to target the civilians sitting too close to the water’s edge. Without regards to the lasting damage it might do to your body you activate your Quirk. For a moment you cease to exist, then reappear a few meters away in time to stop a glass shard with a kick. It shattered against the lacquer wood of your geta. The next few are as easily thwarted but you’ve managed to draw the Villain’s attention. Round of shards are directly solely at you but they’re easily avoided as you teleport to a new place.

People closer to the shore, now made aware of the impending danger, are quick to jump into a frenzy. All running towards the boardwalk, screaming and tripping over each other. It’s harder to predict where the next attacks will be aimed and your uncertainty results in a few minor injuries as smaller flecks of glass rain down on as you knock each knife-like shard from the air. The Villain is on shore now. They let out a rumbling roar, bursting through that first pane of glass in an angry fit as their four eyes sweep the beach in search of you. With so many people running and screaming like bugs skittering out of the way of a falling boot it’s easy for you to slip past their gaze and towards Yuuki. She’s still sitting just where you left her, one of the only people left on the sand as everyone runs towards safety. You hear sirens echoing a short distance away as the authorities have finally caught wind of what’s happening.

You’ve successfully prevented any casualties and as a few Heroes suddenly appear on the sand, leaping over the railing of the boardwalk or materializing from the air, you decide it’s your turn to save yourself. Yuuki’s arms are tight around your neck as you make your way to safety, trying to avoid getting in anyone’s way. Your efforts are in vain as another huge fragment of glass imbeds itself into the ground before you. Yuuki screams and buries her face in your neck. But you drop her onto the sand to slam your fist into an oncoming projectile. The sharp heat of your knuckles splitting through skin barely registers over Yuuki’s terrified whimpering. She sounds farther away then she should be and you turn to see only a pile of ash marring the white sand where she’d been standing. She must’ve activated her Quirk in a haze of fear. Though it’s only managed to put her in more danger as the Villain stands before her with a cruel smile on their face, eyes flashing sadistically as they look down at your trembling child.

“Yuuki, use your Quirk!” You scream. The command is asking too much of a child even if she’s braver than most, but you want her out of danger. It’s like she doesn’t hear you as she continues to stare up at the Villain with tears in her eyes. The hulking figure growls out a laugh as their eyes catch on you before a hand reaches to grab your daughter. There’s no protocol or training outside of pure instinct that has you activating your Quirk. And the short burst of thoughtless action results in a heavy loss on your part as your brain miscalculated the space between them and you reappear wrapped around the Villain’s wrist. It’s a strange sort of pain that registers in stages. It isn’t like you haven’t done this before, but never to this extent and Recovery Girl has always been there to heal your clumsy mistakes. Now as you teleport again, away from the Villain you fall to the sand with a hole punched through your abdomen. This isn’t the small scratches of a few millimeters of error but the grave injuries of an irreversible mistake.

Though it isn’t really a mistake as you managed to distract the Villain long enough for them to be separated and subdued individually. And Yuuki is safe, albeit petrified as she runs over to where you collapsed in the sand, pitifully gasping for breath that won’t stay inside your ruined lungs. She can’t even properly speak between her sobs, but you pet her hair weakly to soothe the words that won’t come. Another shadow falls over you after a moment.

“[Name]?” The voice is familiar and tight with anguish. You hear them fall to their knees next to Yuuki. After a moment your eyes focus.

“Kiri-kun,” the word of recognition is followed by a wheeze of a laugh. “This is Yuuki.”

“Don’t talk–just–we have to get you to a hospital.” Kirishima looks to be on the verge of tears as he looks over your injuries. You shake your head the best you can.

“Take Yuuki,” your voice sounds wet and choked as something warm starts to dribble out of the corner of your mouth. “Take her to Katsuki.”

“Mommy!” Yuuki finally wails coherently, tossing her small body over yours. You grunt as the impact pushes air from your lungs but don’t try to remove her. Instead you press a bloody kiss to her bangs.

“I love you, sparkle, and don’t you ever forget it. Now go with Kiri.”

“No!” She screams, gripping tighter to your failing body.

“Kiri, please, take her. And tell Katsuki I never stopped loving him. Please, promise me.” A hot tear falls down your cheek as Kirishima tries to silently contain his grief.

“I will. And you have to know he never stopped loving you, either.” You think you smile but you can’t be sure as your body turns heavy and cold, disobeying the most basic commands from your brain. It should scare you but you’ve already been afforded more time than you should’ve been after a wound like this tore through you. It’s only by some miracle that you got to see your daughter and best friend one last time. You know they’ll tell Katsuki what you’ve said and knowing that brings you a comfort like no other. It feels like a warm blanket has been placed over you to chase away the frost gathering in your dying body. It’s nice and you really do smile this time as the light of the last firework fades to nothingness.

The photo in his hand is filled with creases that have worn away the color like cracks in glass after being folded too many times to count. She may have taken all of the framed pictures when she left but she had no way of deleting the pictures from his phone without raising suspicion of the betrayal that had yet to come. And even though she left without a word, cruelty stealing away the best thing that’s ever happened to him and leaving a measly note stained with tears of regret in her place, Katsuki could never find it in him to be truly angry with her. Especially on a day as hateful as this. Even the sky has its curtains drawn to the horrific truth playing out like his worst nightmare brought to life. The dark clouds weep for his loss, tears he refuses to let fall. He’s a Hero, he can’t let things like this get to him.

Except it does. Which is why he’s sitting on a bench across the street from the church, hiding beneath the anonymity of shadows and a dark umbrella instead of joining everyone else inside. To walk inside would be to say goodbye forever and Katsuki is nothing if not stubborn. He refuses to say goodbye to her for a second time, for the last time. He wants to remember her like she is in his picture, smiling wide with laughter as he reluctantly presses a kiss to her cheek to be forever saved for posterity with a photo. She was the light of his life and his entire world had gone dark without her. The missions he accepted after she left were like a suicide note to her. Each more reckless than the last as he tried to hide his pain in his work.

It didn’t work, only served to reopen a partially healed wound when he heard her voice after a particularly bad run in with a Villain landed him in a hospital. He was sure she’d been there, he’d heard her. But no one would say anything to him when he woke just as she left, inconsolable in his rage that she’d say such sweet words to him when he was clinging to the edge, ready to let go. She’d brought him back with her words alone only to abandon him again. It’s a merciless twist of fate that it had been Eijirou that got to see her one last time and not him. It should’ve been him fighting on that beach and yet it wasn’t. And his best friend–her best friend–has refuses to speak to him since that fateful night that snuffed his light with no remorse.

His bright red hair sticks out in the sea of black as people begin filing out of the church. Katsuki quickly tucks away the photo and presses the heel of his hand against his eyes to will away the tears. Next to Eijirou’s bright hair is an even brighter umbrella–green and dotted with little frogs, a Froppy umbrella. Katsuki feels irrationally angry at the flash of color on such a bleak day. And why does Eijirou have a kid with him anyway? It’s seems he’ll get his answer soon as he crosses the street to where Katsuki is sitting.

The edge of the umbrella lifts to reveal eyes he thought he’d never see again and Katsuki nearly chokes on his grief, sure that he’s going crazy at the loss of you. Those are your eyes staring up at him with equal parts sadness and elation.

“Katsuki,” he and Eijirou have long since dropped the formalities when speaking to each other, but in this moment it reminds him too much of you. “This is Yuuki-chan.”

“You look bigger than you do on TV.” The little girl says plainly. For a moment, Katsuki thinks Eijirou has just brought a fan to see him on the day of his only love’s funeral until she speaks again. “Mommy always said you were big.”

“‘Mommy’?” He croaks. Eijirou shifts to hold Katsuki’s shoulder as if trying to ground him.

“Katsuki, this is your daughter.” Katsuki grabs Eijirou’s wrist, now glad for the contact as he looks the little girl over again. Ash blonde bangs fall across those eyes that are just yours set in a face that reminds him of his mother. The old hag is across the street hugging your own mother and he wonders if you told your parents about Yuuki. Eijirou follows his gaze. “They just met her, too. No one knew what happened to her when she disappeared, but now we know why. She loved you, Katsuki. She wanted me to tell you that she never stopped loving you.”

The sound Katsuki makes is a cross between a sob and a war cry as he collapses into his friend’s arms with little regards to how it might look if the press are skulking around in the shadows in search of a story on the death of a former sidekick. Eijirou catches him, but there’s another set of arms too. Smaller and warm as they wrap around his legs, soft cheek pressed to his knee as Yuuki tries to comfort her father. He’s openly weeping now, face wet with rain and tears as he mourns the loss of the love of his life. But he gained a new love in the process, like a single flower blooming from a dead bush. He hasn’t completely lost you if he still has Yuuki. He’ll raise her right, for you. After a moment he calms and wipes his face clean with the back of his scarred hand.

“Do you have a daddy, Yuuki-chan?” He asks hesitantly. Your heart may have always been his, but you could’ve given yourself to another for the sake of giving Yuuki a proper father figure. The thought raises bile in his throat but he can’t be mad at you for it.

“You,” she says like he’s just asked her the stupidest question. “Mommy didn’t like any of the boys that liked her. She said she only loved you. And I love you, too!” She declares fiercely, hugging his legs tighter. It’s strange how much she resembles him upon their first meeting, but she is so much like you, too. Katsuki lifts her into his arms, holding his daughter for the first time in his life. He knows you would’ve thought the two of you would hold him back and whether or not it’s the truth doesn’t matter now. Now he has Yuuki, in place of you. In that moment the clouds part to cover the three of them in a patch of warm light and Katsuki swears he can hear your voice on the breeze. It sounds like you’re laughing and for the first time since the news of your death, he smiles.

[squirmymochi]

omovember day 20 - using a pillow to help hold it in - klance

Read it here or on Ao3!

edit: here’s my omo fic commission info ;)

Lance ruts against the pillow again, his teeth sinking into his lip as his bladder throbs beneath his skin. He’s kneeling on his bed in the castle with his fluffiest, softest pillow stuffed between his legs, his hands pressing into the thick, feathery material to add some pressure to his crotch. He lets out an involuntary whine as his bladder pulses again, all the water and juice from earlier in the day practically begging to get out.

He hasn’t had a chance to go to the bathroom since he’d woken up that morning--he’d been too busy with training, gaming with Pidge, and helping Hunk bake cookies for the rest of the team--and now everything he’d drank up until that point is catching up with him quickly. He’d started to get the urge to go around two hours ago, but he’d been having so much fun with his friends that he’d put it off until the last minute, and before he’d actually had a chance to go, Coran had declared that it was time to clean the castle and closed off the bathrooms.

He curses himself for not speaking up before the others had gotten to work--it wouldn’t have taken very long, only one or two minutes and then he’d be out and ready to help. But he couldn’t bring himself to voice his need in front of everyone--that would have been far too embarrassing, even for him. And now, almost an hour later, he’s absolutely at his limit, resorting to practically humping a pillow to keep the ocean in his bladder from leaking out.

Another small, breathy wine escapes past his lips as a jet of piss forces itself past his sphincter muscles and leaks into his urethra. He can practically feel it at his entrance, seconds away from spurting its way out. No, no, no, he thinks with a groan, shoving the pillow further into his crotch and rolling his hips into it desperately, doing everything he can to hold it in. The added pressure helps to keep him in control, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before the inevitable happens.

It feels like his bladder is at maximum capacity--he’s positive that he’s never been this desperate in his life. At this point, he’s not even sure that he can stand up without completely soaking his pants, let alone make it to the bathrooms on the other side of the hall. He feels sweat bead across his forehead and drip down the tense lines of muscle on his back from the exertion of holding his piss. He’s shaking, vibrating uncontrollably, which does nothing to help his situation, but he can’t help it. He’s running out of time, and quickly.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a knock at his door, followed by Keith’s voice calling out a soft, “Lance?”

Fuck! Lance thinks as a short stream of piss leaks past his opening and dampens the crotch of his boxers. Keith, please, please just go away!

“Are you in there?” Keith asks from the other side. To Lance’s horror, the door begins to slide open as he speaks. He barely has time to change positions, sitting cross-legged on the bed with the pillow on top of his lap and his hands on top of the pillow, before Keith steps into the room.

“H-Hey, buddy,” he stammers, hoping his sweating and vibrating isn’t too noticeable. Keith eyes him suspiciously, and he resists the urge to squirm under his gaze--for more reasons than one.

“What are you doing in here?” Keith asks slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Everyone’s helping clean the castle.”

“I-I was just, ah, cleaning my room,” Lance grits out, trying to subtly press his hands into the pillow to gain some relief.

“Why?” Keith asks, looking around. “It’s already clean. Shouldn’t you be helping the rest of us?”

“I will!” Lance squeaks, pressing his thighs together as tight as he can. “I’ll be out in-mmh! I’ll be out in a second.”

Now please, he adds mentally, get out before I completely embarrass myself in front of you!

Keith doesn’t look satisfied with his answer in the slightest. He crosses his arm, leaning against the doorframe and fixing Lance with an unamused stare. Lance can feel beads of sweat dripping down his temple, and unfortunately for him, Keith seems to notice them as well.

“Are you sick?” he asks with a frown, pushing himself off the wall and taking a few steps towards the bed. Lance leans back, taking a hand off the pillow to wipe at his face and mourning the pressure on his crotch.

“I’m fine!” he assures Keith, shifting his hips subtly as he returns his hand to its original position. “It’s, um, it’s just a little hot in here.”

“You’re flushed,” Keith says, ignoring his excuses and pressing a hand against his forehead. His skin is cool and rough and calloused, and normally Lance would be reveling in the contact, but right now all it does is take some of his attention away from his dire need to pee. “Have you been drinking enough?”

Way too much, Lance’s brain answers for him, his bladder throbbing once again. He presses the pillow against his crotch even harder, hoping it comes across as natural. “I’m good,” he promises breathily, arching his back in an attempt to grind his dick into the mattress beneath him.

Once again, Keith doesn’t seem convinced. “Should I go get Coran?” he asks, his tone almost concerned.

“No!” Lance exclaims, eyes going wide. The last thing he needs is another person in his room, watching him try to keep it together. Plus, that would mean Coran would take longer to clean the bathrooms, and that’s certainly not gonna do anything in Lance’s favor.

“Well, what should I do?” Keith demands, a crease forming between his brows. “There’s clearly something wrong, so just spit it out already.”

“There’s nothing wrong! I just- ohh!”

Lance cuts himself off with a moan, doubling over and shoving the pillow in between his legs hard as a long spurt of piss dribbles out of him. He rocks his hips from side to side frantically, rubbing his thighs together and clenching every muscle in his body in an attempt to keep what feels like literal gallons of pee inside him. He can’t help but let out another moan as he cuts off the tiny stream. It’s pure torture, having tasted sweet, sweet relief only to have it taken away from him a second later.

He’s only reminded of Keith’s presence a few seconds later, once he’s managed to get the unbearable urge under control. Immediately, he straightens his posture and relaxes his grip on the pillow, but it’s too late to save his dignity.

“You have to pee,” Keith states blankly, almost as if he doesn’t believe it. Lance wants to deny it, but he knows there’s no point anymore, not when it’s so painfully, blatantly obvious.

“Y-Yeah,” he confirms shakily, involuntarily rolling his hips up into the pillow again. Keith stares at him unsurely, not saying a word.

“I- I would have gone earlier, but- ah- but I kept getting swept up into different stuff, and then- oh god- Coran decided to clean the bathrooms, so I couldn’t.”

Keith keeps staring at him, his eyes darting down to the pillow still clutched against his crotch before coming back up to his flushed, sweaty face.

“I…” he starts, but nothing else comes out. If Lance isn’t mistaken, he almost seems to be blushing.

He doesn’t really have time to focus on Keith’s status, though. He’s so desperate, he feels like he’s about to pop like an overfilled water balloon.

God, don’t think about water! his brain screams as another tiny dribble leaks out of him. He can’t help but let out an embarrassingly needy groan, bucking up into the pillow again.

His actions seem to snap Keith out of whatever trance he’s in. He blinks a few times, fast, then takes a half step forward, arm outstretched as if he wants to help but doesn’t know what to do.

“Are you gonna make it?” he asks, a little awkwardly. Lance whimpers, feeling more sweat bead on his forehead.

“I dunno,” he admits truthfully, moving a hand under the pillow to get a better grip. “Shit, Keith, I really have to go.”

He barely resists shoving his hand down his pants for better access--because grabbing himself in front of Keith is embarrassing enough without having his hand directly on his dick--but he does pop the button on his jeans. He’s met with a tiny bit of relief, but it’s nowhere near the kind he so desperately needs.

“Is there… Is there anything I can do?” Keith fumbles, and yep, he’s definitely blushing. As if he’s the one who should be flustered.

“U-Unless you can magically make Coran get- oh- get out of the bathroom, t-then no,” Lance replies, then cuts himself off with a sharp hiss as another small stream of piss leaks out of his tip. I’m really not gonna make it much longer!

“I can ask him how much longer it’ll take? Or- or maybe I can distract him so he leaves, and then- um… I don’t know…”

Keith shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Lance shudders, grinding up into the pillow and feeling the soft warm wetness of his boxers enveloping the head of his dick.

“I d-don’t want to bother him,” he manages, shaking his head from side to side. Keith stares at him incredulously, all of his earlier embarrassment gone.

“You don’t want to bother him?” he repeats, disbelieving. “Lance, you’re in pain. He isn’t going to mind, especially since it’s so… urgent.”

“I can wait,” Lance huffs, ignoring the signs from his body screaming that he very obviously can’t wait. Keith fixes him with an unconvinced stare as he squirms from side to side. His stormy purple gaze makes Lance shiver, and if he hadn’t already been at his most uncomfortable, that certainly wouldn’t have helped.

“I’m gonna go talk to Coran,” he says at last, turning towards the door. Lance feels panic rising up in his chest, and before he can stop to think he’s scrambling to get off the bed and stop him, the pillow shifting back between his legs.

“No, Keith, I- oh my god!”

He cuts himself off with a gasp as a long jet of piss escapes, soaking through his boxers and into the fabric of his jeans before he can stop it. He doesn’t want to stop it--in fact, the last thing he wants to do right now is quit peeing--but he has no choice. He absolutely will not wet himself like a little child, and especially not in front of Keith, of all people. With all the self control that he can possibly muster and the help of his hands and the pillow, he cuts off the stream, letting out a pathetic little whine as he does so.

It hurts. It hurts to stop after so many hours of holding it in, after almost getting the relief he craves. In fact, he can feel a few tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he stops himself. He clenches every muscle in his body, squeezing his eyes shut and rocking his hips from side to side as another small squirt escapes him, then another. It takes everything he has to get himself back under control, and even then he can still feel a sizeable wet patch on the crotch of his jeans. Oh god, it’s probably bleeding into the pillow, too.

He pries his eyes open and glances down, dismayed to find that there is in fact a small wet circle on the front of the pillow. His eyes dart up to meet Keith’s, and he’s surprised to find a flush of pink on the other boy’s cheeks. He’s the one who’s blushing? Why?

Lance doesn’t have time to think much about that. Almost as soon as he’s fought off the first wave of desperation, another stronger one washes over him. He groans, tensing his muscles again and panting from the effort of holding it in, but this time it’s not enough. A seven-second spurt pushes its way past his clenched muscles and wets the pillow, although it barely brings him any relief. More tears join the few already in his eyes at the realization that he’s not gonna make it, no matter how hard he tries.

Keith seems to have come to the same conclusion, because a few seconds later, he comes to stand by Lance’s side. A hand massages careful circles onto his back, which is strangely comforting considering it’s coming from Voltron’s most socially inept paladin.

“Lance,” Keith says softly, still a bit awkward. “I think you might have to give up.”

“W-What?” Lance chokes out, then cuts himself off with another moan. “No, I can’t-ah-I can’t give up! I’m not a l-little kid!”

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Keith points out. “And besides, I doubt you can hold out until you get to the bathroom, let alone until Coran is done cleaning it.”

“I can!” Lance protests through gritted teeth, his face flushing even brighter at the accusation. To prove his point, he goes to take a step towards the door, and suddenly his bladder can’t handle it anymore. The pressure of the waistband of his jeans digging into his abdomen coupled with the weight of gravity pulling the water inside him down proves to be his undoing, and before he even realizes what’s happening, hot piss shoots out of him. The wet patch on the front of his jeans starts growing until it can’t keep up, and warm wetness starts saturating the top of the pillow he still has pressed between his legs.

He clenches his sphincter muscles with a groan, pressing his hands into his crotch in an attempt to hold back the rest of the flow, but it’s no use. He’s too weak and exhausted from holding so long to maintain control, and the flow barely slows down at all when he tries to cut it off. He sags against the bed defeatedly, tipping his head back and letting out an embarrassingly relieved moan, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he stops trying to hold it in. It feels amazing, like taking a breath after a year without oxygen. He can’t help but wonder if holding for so long might even be worth it, just to feel like this again.

He’d almost forgotten that Keith was in the room, too caught up in his euphoric state to remember much of anything. But once his bladder has emptied most of itself and he starts to come back to his senses, the first thing he sees is his fellow paladin’s face. Keith is blushing almost as hard as Lance imagines he is, although probably for different reasons. He’s completely frozen in place, too, eyes transfixed on Lance as he finishes wetting himself and the pillow, which is squishy and completely drenched beneath him. His mouth opens and closes a few times, but nothing comes out.

Lance is almost too tired and relieved for the flaming embarrassment he should be feeling--almost. He averts his eyes in shame and hopes that Keith isn’t really there, that he didn’t really see that. After all, something like this would be hard enough to hide in the mind-linking exercises Allura has them do on the daily without Keith having witnessed it. He’ll probably tell Shiro, and Shiro will tell Allura, and soon enough the entire castle will know, space mice included.

He feels tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, but before he can start crying for real, Keith’s voice calls him back to attention.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, taking a step forward with a hand half-outstretched. Lance blinks up at him, his eyes watery and mouth pressed into a thin line.

“It couldn’t be helped,” Keith continues, finally setting a hand on his shoulder. His voice is surprisingly judgement-free. “You did your best, but it was inevitable. Plus, it could have happened to anyone. So don’t feel bad about it, okay, Lance?”

Lance sniffs, bringing a sleeve up to wipe at his nose and flinching when he feels that it’s damp. He looks down at his clothes and the pillow, wet patches clearly visible on both, and looks away again miserably. “I- I ruined my stuff,” he sniffles. “Everyone’s gonna find out…”

“I won’t tell anyone. And I’ll help you clean everything, too. It’ll be our secret.”

Keith smiles, hesitant but reassuring, and even though the tips of his ears are still pink and he’s still awkwardly bent over so he doesn’t touch the wet pillow, Lance finds that he believes him. “Okay,” he says, almost timidly, wiping at his eyes with his other sleeve.

“Okay,” Keith repeats, a little more confident this time. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

[rmjagonshi]

In For A Penny, In For a Pound - Chapter 4

On AO3

They had fallen asleep in Stan’s bed in the wee hours of the morning. Neither one willing to move away to sleep on their own. Ford had clung to Stan like he was afraid Stan was going to disappear. No mention of Stan’s “little accident” was made. Well, If Ford wanted to sweep it under the rug and pretend it hadn’t happened, he wasn’t going to argue.

A light touch breached the barrier between unconscious dream state and the comfortable fogginess of awake but drowsy. It felt surreal. Nothing ached. He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming about, so there were no bad feelings that came with waking from a nightmare or irritation from waking from a great dream. Just bliss. He didn’t open his eyes yet. No need. Ford would wake him if there was something he needed to do. They might even head out a bit later than intended. Have a nice, lazy morning. They weren’t really on a schedule yet. The migration of Ford’s weird dolphin thing wasn’t for another two weeks. They had a few days to kill.

The twitch in his boxers reminded him that having that extra time was a God send. They’d stay the night in port and he’d find someone to get his rocks off with and end this damn Freudian shit. It never used to be a problem, never used to gut punch him. Sure, he got hard every now and again, and he’d dealt with morning wood, but it never used to be so prevalent. He used to go days without getting horny over something. But over the past month or so, he’d had to wring one out nearly every day. And with his most recent dreams, well…it was best he dealt with this soon.

Stan groaned. He’d destroyed his blissful half sleep with thoughts better left buried. Well, he might as well get up and see what they had left in the pantry. He tensed his shoulders, raised his hands above his head and pointed his toes. Not the best morning stretch, but eh. He was lazy. And it still felt good. His body felt looser and the thought of getting up didn’t physically hurt. Stan opened his eyes to blink up at the ceiling a few times before rolling over to reach for his glasses resting on the headboard.

A pair of bright brown eyes blinked back at him from the other side of the bed. His heart hammered in his chest.  

“Ahh…” Well, he was certainly awake now! Ford didn’t react. Face soft and unreadable, just blinking back at him. Stan cleared his throat, tilting his head to project his morning breath away from his brother. “How…ah…how long’ve you been awake? You could’a woke me.” He was carefully avoiding Ford’s gaze, focusing on the ceiling instead.

Ford hummed and nestled further into his stolen pillow. The silence made Stan uneasy. Ford was always high activity in the mornings. He was always the first one up, making coffee and making lists or detailing their course for the day. Maybe he was still shaken up from last night. Stan swallowed. Maybe it was…Shit!

Ford hadn’t said anything about it, so neither would Stan. If Ford was wanted to talk now, well, too late. Stan stretched again, just for something to do in the awkward air between them. Unclipped fingernails dragged over his side and chest, leaving little white trails between the grey hair. Ugh. He was used to it by now, but sometimes he ‘noticed’ how hairy he was. It made women uncomfortable. Some men too, come to think of it. Maybe he’d better shave or wax or something. Maybe Ford had something to help with that. Who knows?

But Ford was still not talking. And still staring at him. It was really starting to get on his nerves. He shifted, about ready to crawl over Ford to get up and make coffee, when he realized he was still hard. Usually his morning erections would deflate if he ignored them. Not enough biological gusto to maintain it unless he was thinking or doing something. No hot babes were dancing around in his mind and he wasn’t tugging at it, so what the hell was going on? His eyes darted back to Ford, meeting his eyes and keeping it. Tingling rivers shot up and down his spine as his cock throbbed. Stan barely suppressed a shiver.

Oh.

Oh Fuck.

There was that unmistakable thrill to being watched like this. Of being so hard and the other person not having a clue. Wait. Stan’s eyes flicked down to his crotch, the ceiling, and back to Ford. Okay, so maybe Ford had some clue Stan was hard. Kinda imposable to miss the hideously obvious tent in the sheets. He must have kicked his borrowed boxers off sometime in the night. He could feel some cloth wrapped around one ankle that, upon focusing on, may not have been the sheet Stan thought it was. He braved another glace at Ford. Stan bit his lip as another pulse caused his cock to twitch.

Okay. Yeah. Stan was man enough to admit he had a bit of an exhibitionism kink. He liked showing off for a lover. It gave him a thrill to watch someone get hot under the collar for him. But he’d been so long without a lover, he’d kind of put that on the proverbial shelf. No sense in putting on a show unless there was an audience.

There was an audience now. And that audience wasn’t exactly disinterested.

Why wasn’t Ford saying anything?! I mean, sure, he didn’t except Ford to be traumatized or anything. They were brothers, they’d gone through puberty together. They’d been unwilling witness to each other getting hard before and it wasn’t that big a deal. But in the past, they’d also leave the room or distract themselves, or at least not fucking stare!

What was worse, was Ford’s eyes were so fucking dark and half-closed, Stan didn’t know where he was looking. Least not without his glasses. Ford was wearing his. Stan closed his eyes, taking a deep and slow breaths to calm himself down enough to get up and get away from this crazy shit. He counted to thirty and thought about safe things. Like the kids, and the pig. How much getting old sucked and how much Gideon’s “widdle me” shtick riled him up. His heartbeat slowed and his tapdancing heart fell into an easy waltz. His cock flagged, marginally, and the tent sagging. The pressure in his bladder helping to expedite the process. Good enough.

“’M gonna piss and make some coffee. Up.” He shooed Ford and rolled to get up, but Ford didn’t move. Stan, fully expecting his brother to get out of bed to let him do the same, found himself leaning over Ford, invading his space and sharing his air. Ford simply blinked up at him. He looked like some damsel like this. Hair, gown out from not bothering to cut it, splayed out on the pillow, eyes wide and shining and face soft and near expressionless. A virgin who didn’t really know if they were ready for anything and had left all decision making to their partner. And that was a train of thought he didn’t want to follow. Especially when he wasn’t completely flaccid yet. Nothing else for it.

“I’m gonna piss on ya if ya don’t let me out.”

Ford’s nose scrunched in disgust, pushing against Stan’s chest to roll away and sit up. “Eeeugh! Alright! You are objectively disgusting sometimes.” But Stan didn’t care. He was too busy sliding out of bed, kicking off the boxers tangled around his foot, and getting to the bathroom as quickly as possible. “Not that you’ll be able to piss with that.” But the last part was mumbled, soft and meant not to travel. A jolt of fear snapped Stan to attention for a moment, but his bladder was starting to scream at him. And Stan didn’t think he had the mental fortitude to teach his brother the social etiquette around noticing another man’s boner.

*~*~*

The rest of the morning went like clockwork. Coffee was brewing by the time Stan stepped out of the bathroom, dressed and clean. Ford had already mapped out their route to a little place in Ireland. They’d get supplies and stay the night. And Stan would get laid. By a supermodel probably. Ireland was home to a disproportional number of supermodels. Maybe he’d get two, make it a threesome! Scantily clad runway models gyrated their hips in his mind and he had to adjust himself more than once to keep it from being too uncomfortable.

Most of the work was done by autopilot. Small adjustment required as they went, but they were free to go about their business and work on other things. Stan busied himself with making a list of groceries and making room in the pantry and their tiny fridge. Ford did the same, but for any of his nerd stuff and general ship supplies. Stan did his best to not make it obvious he was avoiding Ford. Not that he was. But the last few days were a bit weird. And not the normal kind of weird for them. Heck, he’d take a sea monster or two single handed if this damn fuckary would go away and stay gone. Every time he caught a glimpse of Ford out of the corner of his eye, or heard Sixer mumbling to himself, his fucked-up mind just had to go an remind him that ‘Hey, you’re horny and there’s someone attractive.’ Pointing out that Ford was his brother only made the shit voice in his head respond with ‘He’s like you, you know what he likes.’ Stan hasn’t been able to cum twice in a day in a few years. This keeps going, and he might break that streak.  

So, when Stan ran out of things to do below deck, he went to check their fishing gear and nets. Then he checked the condition of the barnacle colony growing on the underside of the boat. And the condition of the name plate. And the guide wires for the antenna even though he knows Ford checked them already. When he found himself re-checking the crab-traps for the third time, Stan knew he was in trouble. Forehead connected with random blunt metal object several times, but no amount of forceful beatings was going to empty his head. His hands were cold. His face was cold. His nose was numb. He’d been sorting a half-chub all day and he’s ready to jump in the fucking ocean and swim to Norway at this rate, when the auto-pilot alarm broke through his thoughts like the signing of Heaven’s angels.

“Got my hands tied, at the moment.” Ford’s voice rang out from the open door. A clang of metal and something like a book or stack of papers falling over echoed after him. “Think you can navigate the rest of the way? We should be close enough to see the coast.”

Stan was more than ready to have his mind on anything else. “Got it.” Stan flicked the autopilot off and grabbed hold of the wheel. Driving a boat was like driving a car that was perpetually hydroplaning. Though that made sense, ya’know, with the water and all. Either way, Stan took to it easy, skills honed by years spent living behind the wheel of his car. Of course, now the ol’gal was the size of a matchbox car and mounted in a plastic[CJ1]  box.

Lifting the pair of binoculars hung beside the wheel, Stan eyed the horizon looking for the the Norway cost Ford was talking about. Stan squinted into the lenses and refocused them before spotting the telltale disruption of the perfect horizon. About ten miles to go. They’d be docking within the hour, give or take time to maneuver into the harbor and wait their turn.

Six-fingered hands took the binoculars from Stan’s own. Ford leaned in close to use them, not bothering to lift the chord from around Stan’s neck. Stan stood ridged, eyes wide and unfocused. His hands a death grip on the rungs of the wheel and trying desperately to think of anything but Ford’s warmth at his side.

“Closer than I expected. I’d say we’ll be there within the hour.” After far too long in Stan’s opinion, Ford let the binoculars fall back against Stan’s chest. Stan just nodded and grunted in agreement. He didn’t trust his voice right now. “I’ll take over. We’ll need passports and cash, but I suspect we’ll find one of those Teller Machines somewhere.” A pat to his shoulder was the only signal Stan needed to let got the wheel and put as much distance as he could between his brother and him.

Keeping his back to Ford, he darted below deck to pack up what they needed. They couldn’t dock fast enough.

*~*

Stan was just finishing packing Ford’s overnight bag when he called down that they were ready to dock. Stan grabbed both bags and their documentation and climbed the steps to help his brother. Ford pulled up to the aged wood and metal dock so Stan could make the leap to tie the ship down. Two ties on dock and dropping the anchor was more than sufficient to keep the ol’girl in place.

Stan had climbed back aboard when Ford lifted his overnight bag with a raised eyebrow. “Planning to stay for the long haul?”

Stan bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn't above lying, even to his brother, but they had promised to not keep secrets anymore. Maybe a half-truth. “Though we could send the night on land. Warm up some before we head out again.”

“Why spend money on a hotel? The boat’s warm enough. And we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning anyway.”

Stan blanked for a second before a lie rolled off his platinum tongue. “There’s a storm commin’. Saw it on the radar.” He hadn’t. But maybe Ford would let it slide.

He didn’t. Ford spun to the radar and flicked a switch, pushing two buttons and adjusting his glasses at the screen. “Hm, true, but it’s small. I suspect it’s just rain. No need to splurge.”

Stan laughed. Reactionary nervous laughing was his surefire tell. He could only bluff his way through it if the person didn’t know him that well. Ford was absolutely not that person. Stan wasn't sure if there really was a storm coming from Ford’s tone. Whatever Gods there were might have been kind to him, or Ford might just be playing along with his sad attempt at lying. He turned back to Stan with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes boring down on Stan with a skeptical look the envy of all skeptics.

“You’re not as good at lying as you think you are.” Stan bit the inside of his cheek and had the wherewithal to look ashamed. They had promised no more lying, yet here he was, unable to just tell Ford the truth. Of course, the full truth was not on the table. End of discussion. Not happening. How exactly would that go over? ‘Hey, Bro. I’ve been really horny lately and I’ve been dreaming about fucking you, so I need t find a hot babe to screw and get it out of my system before I bend you over the railing!’ Yeah, no. That was not ok. Of course, saying it might just wipe that egotistical ‘I’m disappointed in you Stanley. You know I’m smarter and better than you’ look off of Ford’s face. Stan would have one glorious moment of having blindsided his know-it-all brother before his world came crashing down. Come on, Stan. Think of something!

“What are you really wanting a hotel room for?” Ford had shifted, one hip cocked that really shouldn’t accentuate his backside from this angle, but most assuredly did and braced one hand on said hip. Stan covered his face, pushing up his glasses and massaging the the bridge of his nose.

“Damnit Sixer! Fuck!”

“Language, Stanley.”

Stan ground his dentures and mocked his prissy brother, a near perfect imitation. “’Language Stanley!’” But fighting was not going to help him. He sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Ford’s gaze. Forcing the truth from his mouth was like pulling teeth. And he would know. “Just…I got…needs…okay.” Ok, half-truths. “Gimme one night.”

Ford frowned at him before rolling his eyes and hoisting the bag over his shoulder. He tossed Stan his own bag with much less grace and far more force than was necessary. “You and you’re ‘babes’. Fine. But you get to pay for separate rooms.”

“Done.”

*~*

“I’m sorry, we only have one room available tonight. There was a short notice cancellation this morning.”

Stan felt his heart hit rock bottom and punch a hole in the bottom to keep going. It wasn't the clerk’s fault. They had gone shopping and fought their way through crowds of people and sidewalk stands to just get the bare necessities. Ford had to actually pull Stan away from a near fistfight with some ass that had tried to grab the last six-pack of beer Stan recognized. Ford himself had gotten into a verbal tiff with another irate patron who was convinced Ford worked at the store and would not let up. A manager was finally called to settle the dispute. They had run with their groceries as soon as they were out of the store and hauled everything to the ship. Maintenance and minor repairs to the ship could wait.

Stan watched his future and sanity go up in smoke and confetti. One room. Thank God a double. Stan doesn’t know his he could handle being forced to share. They have in the past, but that was before Stan’s mind had to be a shithead. His chances of getting lucky tonight just went from slim to near zilch. Not with Ford rooming with him.

“Is there anything just for tonight? We aren’t staying long.” There was always a chance. Reservations only mattered the day of arrival. They could be gone before the room needed to be cleaned.

“No, I’m sorry. Every room has an occupancy. And the staff needs at least four hours to turn over the rooms.”

“What the heck is going on to book you guys up so much? The crowds at the store were insane!”

“Don’t know. Some sort of gala or event. We’ve been booked for months.”

Just their luck. Ford stepped up behind him, hand already going for his wallet.

“We’ll take it.” He sent Stan a look that said, ‘I do this for you, now appreciate it’ and Stan elected to ignore him and flipped though the rack of pamphlets.

They were checked in and, on their way up to the only empty room in the hotel when Ford just had to bring up what Stan was going to do if he found a girl to sleep with him. Well, what he actually said was “If you do somehow goad or coerce a woman to willingly copulate with you, how does this not become awkward for me?” but Stan liked his version better. His was at least in English. And less rude.  

“So, I’ll go to her place.”

“If she refuses?”

“I’ll text ya and let ya know I need the room. There’s a bar in the lobby. Or we could do a threesome.” Stan wanted to bite his own tongue off and never speak again. He knew he had no filter, but God Damn! He really had no filter.

Ford paused mid-step, looking at Stan like he had turned into an octopus monster or had yellow eyes. Quick. Joke. Make it a joke!

“Sixer, I’ve been celibate for ten years. Normally it’s not an issue and I can just ignore it, but I can’t now. Instead of having problems getting it up, I got problems keeping it down.” Stan unlocked their room and pushed in, tossing his bag on the nearest bed. Ford followed behind, now wearing a concerned look. A preferred upgrade from disgusted and shocked. If still unwanted.

“We’re on land. Did you want to go to a doc-“ But Stan cut him off.

“Not like they actually have a treatment for this kind of thing. The opposite, sure. Even comes in a rainbow of flavors. But not this. Not unless I wanna take a dose of Androcur, and I don’t think a doctor is gonna prescribe me any of that.”

“What’s Androcur?”

“Female hormones. Usually given ta woman with hormone disorders but can also reduce sex drive in men. And since I’m not a woman, last time I checked anyway, I’m outta luck.” Stan was already tugging off his shoes and shirt and rifling through his bag for something classy. It was late afternoon, still too early to really do any schmoozing, but he could get an eye for where the best place might be. Hell, he might have time to wander around the back alleys looking for a gay bar. Larger city like this might have one. Stan has some qualms about seeking out the company of other men, especially now, but he’s more likely to find a man that’s interested than a woman. He doesn’t fancy getting slapped or having a drink thrown at him. So, the question is, does he try for the better chance that he’ll hook someone and risk thinking of Ford, or does he go for the harder chase of getting a woman interested but being free from wandering thoughts? Decisions decisions.

“Haven’t you tried…” Oh, Ford was still talking. But his question trailed off and offered no meaning.

“Tried…?” Stan frowned as he tugged off his shirt and dug through his bag, looking for something appropriate. Yellow? No, too bright. White v-neck? Nah, disco would not help him tonight. Purple with pineapples? Was this even his? Ford cleared his throat and Stan glanced at him, stuffing the purple shirt to the bottom of his bag.

“You know…” Ford made a quick jerking motion with his hand around his navel. He even had nerve to blush and avert his eyes.

“Ya know, you somehow fooled everyone into thinking you’re ‘The Author’ and are this cool and badass scifi-pirate.”

“Stan!”

“But you’re still the socially awkward nerd I remember from high-school who had to build a robot to learn how to kiss.”

“Now is not the time to talk about the kissing machine!” Ford looked a cross between indignant, humiliated and livid. Stan laughed until he felt tears build in the corners of his eyes. “Just answer my question, Stanley.”

Stan sobered slowly, a few laughing coughs tumbling out before he could respond. “You think I haven’t tried? What do ya think all the ‘I’m gonna piss’ comments were for?”

“I thought you were doing what you said?”

“Jeezus, you really are hopeless. When a man says, ‘I gotta piss’, he’s gonna piss. When he says ‘I’m gonna piss’, he’s gonna go jack-off so don’t follow or expect him back soon.”

Stan swore he saw Ford’s eye twitch. “Those have the same meaning. The only technical difference besides your horrid pronunciation, is that one refers to a need or desire, and the other refers to a future action.”

“Yeah, see, no. It isn’t. Words can have more than their literal meaning. Like how pussy can mean the cat or it can mean vag-“

“I know what it means!” Ford had gone a brilliant shade of vermilion and Stan swore he could see Sixer’s glasses fogging up. He had turned away from Stan to stare at the painting the hotel had decided was decoration. Haphazard paint strokes that might have been a wheat field, with some grey and purple blob that might have been a mountain.

“Yeah, sorry for thinking ya missed some social cues. You are the one who didn’t understand the one urinal rule.”

“We’re been over this; If they weren’t meant to be used, they wouldn’t be installed. It’s not my fault if some guy is so worried he’s so attractive that I just have to stand next to him and look at his penis! All this homophobia nonsense is very egotistical.”

“Preachen’ to the choir, there. But I’ve been on the losing end of enough bar fights to follow it anyway.”

Ford braves a glance at Stan now that his face had cooled somewhat and gives him quizzical look. Stan becomes acutely aware he’s sitting on the bed wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and his trademarked (literally) gold chain with his pants undone. And doesn’t this scenario scream suggestive? He awkwardly clears his throat and grabs his toiletries bag before pushing passed Ford to the bathroom.

He calls over his shoulder before he closes the door, “Hey, who knows. Maybe you’ll find a lady to, how’d ya put it? ‘Copulate with’? More like finally punch your virgin card.”

Stan closed the door on the incoherent sputtering and protests his comment generated.  

 [CJ1]I am convinced that this is canon. You can’t tell me otherwise. Stan would not let go of that car if he could help it.

Part One

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