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the-andromeda-effect · 4 months

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Even trying to leaving can go smoothly...

The SUV was loaded, Lars was behind the wheel, and Marcin was waiting in the hall. Now all that remained was for Caliban to wake up Adira and go downstairs. Then they would be off to get away from the estate, the violence, and the memories of the whole area for a while. The fresh air and the cabin would do them both some good. Theron was set up to handle all matters from the city while Caliban would be working remotely as needed.

Thanks to the sedative provided by the medic, Adira had slept soundly. Caliban had checked on her repeatedly while packing, and also talking to Theron regarding arrangements, just to make sure she was still doing okay. Her complete stillness bothered him, but he couldn’t put a finger on exactly why. He knew with all that had happened since the previous morning that she had to be exhausted on top of the injury and medication, yet it still gnawed on him that she made no movement or sound for hours. His only hope was that the rest would help to calm her nerves and help her healing. What she had gone through, he couldn’t even imagine.

Once more Caliban perched on the edge of the couch next to Adira, this time to wake her at least enough to get her down to the SUV, so that they could leave for the cabin. Gently, he placed his hand on her shoulder to rouse her and jostled her gently. Unfortunately due to the sedative and the trauma of the preceding thirty-six hours, Adira’s vision was hazy when waking up, and she was disoriented. Caliban’s face was too blurry to see clearly, his voice distorted when he said her name, and her memory of recent events a bit disjointed; so, her brain told her she was back in Mircea’s mansion. Thankfully, Caliban was clear headed which kept him from getting punched hard in the jaw, having seen the unfocused eyes of Adira, and the look of terror on her face before she started to swing at him.

“Adira…ADIRA!!” Still holding her wrist of the arm she swung at him with, Caliban pinned her other arm to her side by leaning against her as she struggled against him and cried out. He was trying to keep from getting hit, while simultaneously keeping from hurting her, as she reacted in a blind panic. She had already been through enough, he did not want to cause her more pain or upset. The fact she had woken up in such a state already had him concerned.

Thrashing against him, Adira screamed for him to let her go and Mircea’s name more than once. It had Marcin coming in with his gun drawn, unsure of what could be happening in the room; although once he saw the situation, he relaxed. Adira cried, pleaded and begged to be let go, her voice breaking and tears streaming down her face as she begged not to be hurt or killed. Her eyes might be open, but Caliban, and even Marcin, were quite convinced that she was not really awake, but instead caught in a nightmare that she wasn’t waking up from for some reason.

“Shhh…shhh…you’re safe. Wake up. It’s me, it’s Caliban. You’re safe, sweetheart.” He kept his voice calm by some feat of will, as he continued to try to carefully restrain her. Finally she started to still and ceased fighting against him. “There we go, that’s my girl. Breathe deep. Calm down, you’re fine.” He let out a heavy sigh as her eyes seemed to finally focus and then confusion was awash over her face, her eyes darting back and forth between Caliban’s face and Marcin.

As Adira became fully coherent and focused, she also became afraid in a different way than she had been when she had thought she was once again in Mircea’s grasp, and about to face more pain at his hand. Looking up into Caliban’s face with him holding her arm, she was more concerned how bad she had just fucked up. Her breathing was still rapid, and she was having trouble coming up with words. She could hear Marcin saying something to Caliban but was still so confused that she wasn’t making sense of it.

“I’m not sure if it was the medication or a nightmare, but she’s fine. I think when I woke her up she was already having a bad dream, it was just confusion.” Caliban answered Marcin’s inquiry as to what had caused her reaction. It pleased him that the guard was concerned, even though it was clear that not only was Adira not in any danger, but that she was being taken care of. “I think I have learned a lesson about waking her up.” A wry chuckle left him as he turned his attention once more to her, letting go of her wrist now as he pulled her up to sitting and into his arms. “Are you more calm now, sweetheart?”

Adira nodded, not taking her eyes off of his face as her head came to rest on his shoulder. He looked calm, he sounded calm, he had let her wrist go, but she was still afraid she had seriously misstepped. “I’m sorry. Wha..what…whatever I..I did.. I..” her eyes closed as she took a deep breath to calm herself. “I was confused when I woke up,” she finally finished, her eyes still closed to help with her nerves.

“There is no need to apologize. Marcin, please get her some water. Let Lars know we’ll be a couple of more minutes.” Caliban didn’t take his eyes off of her face, reaching up to softly stroke across her forehead and then down her cheek. “You’re fine, Adira. You have had two days that were traumatic and upsetting, plus the medication dulling your senses. I am not upset.” He could feel a slight tremble in her and knew that she was afraid, most likely of his reaction. That bothered him. Yes, he was a violent man, but he would never be towards her. He already knew this to be a fact and he would have to remember to be patient until she knew she was always safe with him; and remember that at times she would react from her past, not their present. After all, they had only known one another since the previous morning when he had quite literally shown up to kill her. He could hardly blame her for having some fear of him.

“Thank you.” Adira’s eyes opened to meet his, now a small smile forming on her lips as she fought the remnants of her fear. His calm voice and soft touch were doing more to calm her than his words. That he had sent Marcin to get water for her also meant something to her too. He was making sure she was taken care of without having to leave her alone, and for that she was grateful.

“No, there's nothing I've done that requires any kind of thank you.” Caliban looked at his wife again, and ran his fingers across the side of her face, his thumb brushing over that bruise that still angered him even though he's been looking at it for the past thirty-six hours. “Adira,” he started, “just remember you are always safe with me. We are going to figure out what happened with Kondrat, and make sure it never happens again. But for now, we are going to have our vacation and relax. Once you've had a little something to drink and your mind is clear, we can look at getting ready to go. The car is all loaded, and all the arrangements have been made.” His arm tightened around her and his other hand came to cradle her head gently to his shoulder. He was worried about her.

It was only a few minutes later that Marcin returned with the water for her to drink, and also with Lars following him. “Hey boss, we thought we'd just come up and wait and make sure everything was okay.” Marcin told him as he handed Adira the water bottle with the cap loosened for her. He was worried about her, just like Caliban and now Lars as well. Now he understood what Lars had told him earlier about her blind fear of her ex-husband. “You doing better, ma'am?”

“Yes,” she replied, “I'm sorry for any upset. I was confused when I woke up.” Adira's eyes darted quickly between Caliban and Marcin. A soft blush roast her cheeks as her eyes dropped, her hand reaching over and taking Caliban’s free one in her own. His thumb swept the back of hers softly as his fingers wrapped to hold her hand softly, and then he gave it a light squeeze. It was helping to calm her to be held so gently by him, each moment that they sat there adding to the calm that she was feeling. Never in her marriage with Mircea had there been a time like this, even in the beginning. He had never been one for quiet, calm, soft..anything. A few sips of water here, a few reassuring looks and touches, and occasionally some words from both Marcin and Lars, helped her to feel better.

Finally, when Adira felt that she had recovered her senses enough to be able to walk down to the car under her own power; so, Caliban decided that they should leave. Lars led the way, with Caliban following after Adira, and finally Marcin bringing up the rear. He was also to let Pietre and Svarog know that they were leaving, and that the house would be empty until they returned.

Earlier in the evening, while Caliban had still been packing, Theron had left to return to his own estate. The following day, he, Pietre, and Svarog would get together again, and begin to try to discern who it was that had betrayed Caliban and led to Kondrat dragging Adira across the yard. In truth, Marcin, Lars, and Caliban would all have liked to have helped in that endeavor. However, it was clear that getting Adira away from the estate was the best for everyone. She needed calm, quiet, tranquility, and also to get to know Caliban better. If they were to be a team and work together, everything had to settle into its place, and that meant getting to know one another without there being constant upset and possible violence.

If Caliban had discovered who it was while he was still there, there was no doubt that violence would erupted the mansion once more, which would only set her back with her settling in. That was not something that Caliban wanted, instead he did want to get to know the woman that he was now married to, at least on paper. He had found himself drawn to her with a possessive and protective nature since their first encounter in that basement, and he could not put his finger on why. He didn’t like unanswered questions. Another question he wanted to figure out the answer to was whether she was clinging to him because she saw him as a savior, or if she too had felt something the night before in the library when everything had seemed so relaxed.

While their marriage was fake at the moment, there was already a hint of something that could develop. Caliban could not deny that she was a beautiful and intelligent woman, and from all he had heard of her, he would find her personality just as charming as he had the night before. Theron too had been taken by her, not an easy feat, so there was that fact that he needed to keep in mind. His best friend was a good judge of character, so it seemed to confirm his own thoughts on the woman. He would rush nothing with her, assume little, but that did not mean he was not intrigued to see how things would develop over the coming days.

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hairmetal666 · 8 months

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Eddie Munson gets famous at fifteen, after a YouTube video goes viral.

He's the kind of famous where he can't leave his house without being mobbed; where his name is plastered across grocery store tabloids and every fifth Pop Crave post; who has to make special arrangements with stores, whose body guards have body guards, who's forgotten what it's like to be normal. He's the kind of famous with well-chronicled stints in and out of rehab

And he thinks, at thirty, why not do a reality show? Why not let everyone in the world into his life because they're there anyway?

There's this guy on the crew, beautiful as a fucking sunrise. He's all golden-tanned and chestnut-haired, with these big hazel eyes that makes Eddie stomach swoop deliciously whenever they happen to meet his.

His name is Steve.

And Eddie, well. He's learned his lesson about jumping into relationships. So, Steve is nice to look at, and that's all there is to it.

---

They're at the studio, and Eddie, he only smokes when he's recording but he's "not allowed" to do that inside. So, he steps out into the alley behind the building, eyes falling shut as he hands search his pockets for his pack of Camels and his Zippo.

"I didn't realize you smoked," a deep voice says from the darkness.

Eddie startles, eyes flying open. Steve is leaning against the brick of the building, cigarette perched between his pursed lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Steve. With the crew."

"Eddie," he answers by instinct.

"I know," Steve chuckles. His hazel eyes are golden in the yellow streetlight.

"Oh, right." He lights his cigarette and inhales deep.

"I really like what you're doing in there." Steve nods his head towards the studio.

"You a fan?"

"Never listened to you much before. Not really a metal kinda guy, but I like it."

People aren't usually honest with Eddie. It's refreshing.

"Glad you're getting into it! How's your--uh, job going?"

Steve laughs. "First assistant camera, that's my job." Eddie's expression must read a total blank, but Steve only smiles. "I make sure everything's in focus while we film"

"Is that--hard?"

"Sometimes," Steve agrees. "How do you like being the star of a reality show?"

Eddie huffs out a breath. "It's more fun than I expected. Like, sure it's weird to have you guys follow me around, but at least I invited you, you know?"

Steve's dark eyes are fathomless in his perfect face. "You'll let me know? If anything happens that you don't like?"

Eddie nods, taken aback by the serious line of Steve's pretty mouth. Before he can respond more, the back door creaks open, Gareth's backlit shape leaning into the alley. "Eddie? They're ready for you."

"Duty calls." He smiles at Steve as he stomps out his cigarette. "See you around."

---

Eddie goes to a house party in the hills. It's just a handful of people, all of them he's known for years, no cameras in sight.

Someone asks how things are going with the band. Eddie doesn't think anything of it. Why should he, among friends? Why should he when they already know the resentment that Gareth, Jeff, and Freak have for him? Eddie got signed and not his band. The guys--they never really forgave him, think he could have tried harder.

So, he says--he says--"I wish they didn't resent me so goddamn much still. To this day! They're millionaires and they're pissed at me? Fuck that. I got them here. I got us all here."

They're filming the next day at Eddie's house. He's working on a new song, engrossed in his acoustic and his notebook.

He's so in the zone, it takes him a second to register when Gareth bursts into the house.

"Fuck you, Munson," Gareth screams. "What the fuck is this shit?" Eddie's own voice pours from Gareth's phone, and Eddie's stunned speechless for dozens of seconds as he tries to comprehend what's happening.

"I didn't--" he tires. He raises his hands placatingly, but his minds a whirlwind, thoughts a tangle, heart a mess of betrayal and hurt and fear.

"We should be fucking grateful?" Gareth yells. "You spoiled piece of shit, fuck you!" He lunges towards Eddie, but Steve darts from behind the camera, moving to block Gareth's path.

"Stop filming," Eddie shouts. He lifts his arms to block the shit. "Get out," he snaps at the crew. " Now!"

He and Gareth scuffle towards a set of double-doors, heated words low and unintelligible.

"Don't come in." He tells the crew. "Steve, I mean it. Tell them to stop."

Eddie shoves Gareth into the other room, slamming the door behind him. Still, the mics pick up the screaming fight between the two men.

Hours later, Eddie finally makes his way back to the main part of the house, finds Steve standing at the kitchen island.

"Why are you still here?" He's too exhausted from the fight to put any inflection into it.

"I was wo--I wanted to make sure everything was okay," Steve says. He relaxes against the island. "Are yo--is everything okay?"

Eddie's laugh is humorless. "Something like that."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The tears he kept at bay with Gareth prick at his eyelids until they burn. "Not really, no."

Steve nods. "We could--you wanna watch a movie?"

This startles a laugh out of Eddie, one that has tears flooding his eyes and he has to blink fast, look down, anything so Steve doesn't notice.

"You know what I want?" he says. It's soft enough that maybe Steve, across the kitchen, wouldn't hear.

"What?"

"To have friends who won't sell me out for a couple thousand bucks." The tears start falling, his throat choked with emotion.

He wants to stop, embarrassed to be crying in front of Steve, but now that he's started, sobs shake his shoulders and he can't keep quiet.

Steve reaches for him. "Is this okay?" he whispers, hands rubbing circles against his back.

Eddie nods, cries for a while as Steve makes soothing motions against his back.

"I just wish I was normal," he mumbles when he has words again.

Steve's hold on him tightens. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

Shame hits him then, too hard to ignore, and he steps away. "I'm gonna--I'm gonna go. I--Thanks again."

He ignores the sound of Steve calling him back.

---

Eddie's playing a show. He's playing a show in a small club, something he hasn't been able to do for years, but he's doing it right now. It's electric, vibrating through his body, the crowd screaming along with every word.

So much of this is because of Steve, and Eddie can't think about it, because men like Steve aren't for guys like Eddie.

As he plays, his eyes scan the small crowd, find Steve easily. He's gazing at Eddie, lips slicked pink and parted, eyes shining. Eddie knows this look; the naked desire obvious. A heat he never lets himself feel for Steve blooms low in his abdomen, but--

He wails into his mic, forcing his thoughts away from that path. He has a show to play, one that's pumping his veins full of satisfied adrenaline. Nothing can ruin it.

When the show ends, Eddie is high, endorphins and adrenaline pounding through his bloodstream.

Eddie, the band, and the film crew make their way out the club's backdoor. There's a car idling close by, but they only get a few steps in before there's shouting; the ear-shattering click of dozens of camera shutters; overwhelming burst of flashes.

Eddie is disoriented, dizzy; the rapid shift from the best night he's had in years, to this, mobbed by paparazzi, people screaming his name, crowding their small group. He stumbles, black spots still obstructing his vision.

Arms catch around him, holding him steady. "You okay?" Steve asks.

Before he can answer, one of the paps yells, "Munson's wasted! Can't even walk!"

"C'mon, Ed, I've got you," Steve says.

"Just get into the booze, Munson, or someone had Molly too? Maybe a little coke? That used to be your thing, right? Snort a little blow and do a show?"

Eddie tenses, almost stops, but Steve keeps him going.

The crowd surges around them, more voices yelling, more flashbulbs popping, the guy saying, "He can't even stand without help! You got a real problem you know?"and he just--can't anymore. He whirls out of Steve's grasp, lunges for the guy.

"What's your fucking problem, man?" Eddie hisses. "What did I do to you, huh?"

"Real tough, Munson, huh?" The man sneers. He shoves Eddie hard, knocking him back a few steps.

Eddie's vision fuzzes out, brain buzzing. He snarls, knows he does, knows he's losing it, can't make it stop.

Strong arms wrap around his waist, pull him off his feet. He fights it until he's pressed into a wall, until cold hands cup his face.

"Baby, baby, you have to calm down," Steve murmurs. "You have to breathe, can you do that for me?"

"I want--he can't--I--"

Steve presses harder against him, bodies joined. "You're having a panic attack, yeah? Can you breathe with me, baby? Match me?"

Eddie nods, tries, wants to be good for Steve.

He calms, as much from the breathing exercise as being held by the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Pressing his face against Steve's neck he says, "why are you always around for my worst moments? I'm such a fucking mess."

"I don't think you're a mess," he says. "I think you've gotten hurt, you've gotten cornered. And your reactions are normal."

"Why do you even care?" Eddie asks.

Steve doesn't even pause. "Cause I like you, Eddie." His hold tightens for a second. "I like you a lot."

Eddie scoffs. "Yeah, you like Eddie Munson, the hot rockstar. Not the loser who cries in your arms"

Cold air hits Eddie as Steve steps away to meet Eddie's eyes. You want to know something? I didn't expect to like you at all. I admit, I bought into all the stories on the internet. But you were never anything like that, Ed. Not even once."

Steve takes a deep breath, turning away as his cheeks grow pink. "And you--you're always going out of your way for people. The day I knew I was gone for you? Three weeks into filming. There was this kid interning. You didn't know a thing about him, just some twenty-year-old, and you sat down and talked to him. Were genuinely interested in everything he said."

"Steve," Eddie's voice breaks. He has to cover his mouth, lips a wobbling mess.

"I want to give you normal, Eddie, as much as I can. If you'll let me."

The moisture tumbles free from his eyes, streaking down his cheeks. Eddie laughs. "God, Steve, you're--I like you, too."

Steve brushes the tears away. "So, you'd go on a date with me?"

"I think I would really like to go on a date with you, yeah."

Steve leans in, slow and gentle, placing a soft kiss at the corner of Eddie's mouth. It lights him up like a fresh struck match, nerve endings on fire. He thinks it's so much more than like already.

"Take me home, sweetheart," he says.

"Getting fresh with me, Munson," Steve smirks. "I won't have you using your rockstar wiles to seduce me."

Eddie's laugh echoes off the brick of the surrounding buildings. "Oh, sweetheart, my rockstar ways will destroy you."

"That a promise?"

---

Six months later, the first and only season of Welcome to Hell premieres. Instead, of chronicling a rockstar's debauched and wild lifestyle, it's a soft and charming love story. It shows Steve and Eddie growing closer, Steve working late into the night, to give Eddie the hint of normalcy he's so desperate for, to make him happy. It shows Eddie's eyes track Steve across a room, something like sadness crossing his face. It shows a concert that Steve arranged, the fight with the pap outside the venue, brief glimpses of Steve and Eddie in the aftermath, the gentle kiss.

In the last interview of the season, the producer asks Eddie if there will be a season two of Welcome to Hell.

Eddie smiles, glances off camera, which pans to find Steve in worn jeans and a Metallica hoodie, hair messy and wearing glasses. He gazes at Eddie, smiles this soft, aching thing.

"Nah, I don't think I need it anymore," Eddie answers. Throwing the camera a smile that matches Steve's.

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saltycharacters · 24 days

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[ID: Digtal fanart of a fan story featuring Reigen Arataka and Serizawa Katsuya, as well as some other Mob Psycho 100 characters. The 1st drawing has Reigen kneeling atop a work desk, background bathed in grey static as small objects such as paper and cigarettes surround him. Corded phone in hand, he's glancing up desperately. Above him, Serizawa's figure is tinted blue while he also holds a phone up to his ear, back turned as a flow of color connects his heart to Reigens. The vague outlines of Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Kuratara Tome, Kageyama Ritsu, and Suzuki Shou float at the top, all appearing anxious or upset. The words "Dream Dial" covers Hanazawa Teruki and Dimple amongst the group, though the words are removed in the cropped copy shown in the last image. A related illustration under features Reigen, sitting in a dark, eerie office cubicle as he flips through a small notebook, glancing at a corded phone on his desk that glows from its small screen. On said screen, the word "Unknown" is spelt out. The other cubicles are empty, only occupied by people with water coolers for heads, and the words "Dream Dial" again appear in the corner. The last two images are cropped close-ups of the first drawing. End ID]

Had to draw some fanart of my favorite MP100 fic, Dream Dial by Alakazamboni!! It's yet to be finished but still totally worth the read if u like MP100 and Serirei

You can check it out -> here <- :]

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #reigen arataka #serizawa katsuya #ive been reading fanfics constantly these past few months making up for lost time i guess #for those who dont know i literally never read fanfics until this year #mostly romance bc im a sucker but its been a blast #serirei #im just such a sucker for mindscape fics #id post this in the morning but it took me forever to finish these and im rlly proud so u guys get it now

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almondpiglet · 7 months

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fav ship for mobtober

wait huh??? serirei? what a surprise!!

#excuse the heavy sarcasm #me liking a ship so much is weird cuz in real life im kind of repulsed by romance lol #but if these two are looking for a polycule plz call me #my art #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #serizawa katsuya #reigen arataka #serirei #mobtober

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sarahowritesostucky · 1 month

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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, non-con, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", mating, breeding, hate to strong affection, yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the alpha who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

Masterlist

Daddy's Home (Series teaser)

Episode 1: A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat: Just like Her Mommy

Episode 2: Taking Back What's His

Episode 3: The Lap of Luxury

Episode 4: Motherhood Suits You

Episode 5: Should've Done this Years Ago

Epilogue: A Storybook Romance Once Again

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" shlyukha = "slut" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one" milashka = "cutie patootie" malen'kiy = "little one" malyshka = "little girl" pchelka = "little bee"

@cjand10, @violetwinterwidow01, @ppbhquinn, @myfavbuckyfics, @liannafae, @sadsackssss, @timidquindim, @dakotali, @rayofdawnworld, @wintrsoldrluvr, @lindasweetie

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kamigui · 10 months

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In every other universe, Rubee falls for Wally ,and in every other universe, it doesn't end well…

Well, it's a first time for everything, right?

Welcome Home Hunt vs Hunted AU Wally ( @nonomives) x Human Ruby (W➡️⬅️R)

Welcome Home Mob AU Wally ( @clownsuu) x Mob Rubee (W⬅️R)

Welcome Home Haunted House AU (me) x Maid Rubee (W➡️⬅️R)

ASGDHDFBKSDFJSDF, I finally made it! Hope you guys like it!

#welcome home #welcome home au #welcome home oc #welcome home mob au #welcome home hunt vs hunted au #welcome home haunted house au #welcome home wally #wally darling #rubee buttercup #mob Rubee #I’m literally crying while I’m drawing #I love tragic romance…#They still have happy endings don’t worry!#the storyboard reference is from spider man across the spider verse #under the clock tower #such a good movie…

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texaschainsawmascara · 1 year

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Rob the Mob (2014)

#rob the mob #michael pitt #crime #movie #film #love #couple #romance #goals #relationship #lovers #true love #romantic #passion #love story

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marenwithanm-reblogs · 1 year

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No no guys you don't get it what makes ritsu and reigen's dynamic so funny is the fact that it's not equal in hatred. Ritsu blows reigen up with his mind and throws underhanded jabs at him. Reigen had met him like twice and defaults to treating him like a slightly younger mob. Ritsu hates this, reigen is increasingly bewildered as to why his infinite charm has no effect on this prickly thirteen year old. THE BULLYING IS ONE SIDED THAT'S WHY ITS FUNNY

#saw a thing where reigen and ritsu were arguing #and reigen said something like 'well at least i don't look like im still hung up over my chemical romance's breakup'#and i just...#first of all ritsu has no idea who that is #second of all thats not their dynamiccc #i mean #obviously everyone can interpret characters however they want #and im mostly joking #if you wanna make them be at each other's throats dont let me stop you #but i like the one sided dynamic so much better lol #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #reigen arataka #ritsu kageyama #meme #text post #oh frick wrong blog #oh well

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sebastianstansqueen · 10 months

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Lost in The Shadows Masterlist

A/n: Here is the new story, we'll see what happens, as always to be tagged go to tagglist link in my bio or just down below, or send an ask, message or comment on this.

Summary: Y/n was a whisper on everyone in New York's lips, she practically ran the state, for the most part. She was only twenty-five and getting ready to find her third husband, she sat behind the desk where her father, and then her second husband sat once, and now she did.

(Mechanic!Bucky x Mob/Mafia Boss!Reader)

Tagglist // Masterlist

{ Part 1 }

{ Part 2 }

{ Part 3 }

{ Part 4 }

{ Part 5 }

{ Part 6 }

{ Part 7 }

{ Part 8 }

{ Part 9 }

{ Part 10 }

{ Part 11 }

{ Part 12 }

{ Part 13 }

{ Part 14 }

{ Part 15 }

{ Part 16 }

{Part 17 -End-}

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shigayokagayama · 2 years

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hot new mob psycho theory that tome has no idea what a date is

#'this guy asked me on a date but im not being romanced. ill just take him to my ghost hunting job.'#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #reigen spoilers #tome kurata #hoshida origo #reigen arataka #pic

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 9 months

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A sweet kiss, please.

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the-andromeda-effect · 5 months

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While Caliban was at the incident scene, Theron tried to handle things with Adira. But it's Caliban's return that calms things again.

“Adira, please drink the tea.” Theron was about to lose his mind, but was trying to keep his voice calm. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her again. If she started crying again, he would feel like a complete asshole and Caliban would probably put a bullet in him. The medic had visited once they had gotten up to the room due to Theron messaging him that Adira’s hands were shaking and she kept hyperventilating whenever there was the slightest sudden sound. He had given Adira a few pills to help calm her over the next few days since she would be leaving the estate, yet she would not eat or drink since he left, which was required to take the medication. Theron didn’t want to have to call the medic back and ask for him to come and give her an injection. With Caliban’s mood, someone WOULD get shot by their boss then, since the mere suggestion of that earlier had almost had her running for the bathroom to hide. To say she was skittish was an understatement and Theron couldn’t say he blamed her. She had been through hell in the last thirty-six to forty-eight hours.

“My stomach doesn’t feel good. I feel queasy and dizzy.” Adira’s voice was shaky as she looked up at Theron; her expression plaintive. She was lying on the couch in Caliban’s room, where she’d been since Caliban had left to head back down to the scene of the earlier incident. One guard was stationed outside the door in the hallway, another just on the other side of the door in the room that Adira had been given the day before. With the three guarding her, she knew she was safe, yet her stomach was still upset from earlier in the day. “I promise I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m sorry.”

“Would ginger ale or lemon-lime soda help? Those are known to settle stomachs.” Theron was ready to try anything if it got her to take the damn meds so her hands stopped having tremors, and she stopped squeaking and jumping whenever there was the slightest sound. He knew that she was not being stubborn or trying to make things hard, which was the only reason that Theron’s voice remained calm and soft. She didn’t have to tell him that, it was clear in everything about her. Even from observing her and interacting the night prior, he would have known that. “And I know you are not trying to make things hard, sweetheart. Just relax. I’m trying to help, I just don’t know what to do.”.

Adira’s eyes closed as her stomach rolled again, trying to keep the nausea at bay some. “I’m willing to try it. I’m sorry, I really am, Theron. This is all my fault. Everything that has happened is my fault.” She sighed, her hand coming up over her mouth as another wave of nausea hit, and also to try to keep from crying. Whether it was nerves or the injection she’d been given earlier when she got the stitches to help with pain, she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t remember ever feeling this queasy outside of when Mircea used to threaten her with death, her own or someone else’s, or when he’d hit her so hard in the head she would pass out.

Theron looked over at Caliban who had just entered the room soundlessly, his expression saying it all. “Adira, I’ll get you some cold soda from the kitchen and be right back. You need to take the meds he gave you though, they’ll help with the nausea and nerves. You are not to blame for any of this, no one thinks that, so please stop thinking it yourself.” Theron’s brows rose as he looked over to Caliban, trying to make it clear this was the circle they’d been going in for a little bit. Maybe now that Cal was back he could do something to ease her nerves and her thinking that anyone would blame her.

Caliban crossed the room and sat next to Adria on the edge of the couch. She didn’t even move or open her eyes as he did. He doubted that she knew it was him, so that meant she trusted Theron enough not to need to look if he was getting close to her. “Sweetheart,” now her eyes flew open to look up at him, “he is right, No one blames you.” His fingers ghosted across her forehead to sweep loose hairs off to the side as he gazed down at her with affection. “Whatever the doc has given you, please take. Whatever we need to get you in order to do that, we will.” He leaned forward and kissed the middle of her forehead, offering silent thanks to whatever gods were listening that she had not been hurt more than a cut hand.

Adira nodded, her emotions still so jumbled and a mess. She didn’t even know how or where to start to explain them all to Caliban. She had thought she knew fear in that basement and her previous life with Mircea, but that had been nothing compared to that insane man dragging her across the yard. Why he had scared her more than Mircea, she wasn’t quite sure; except that if she had been handed back over to her ex-husband, she knew that the previous violence she had experienced at his hands would pale in comparison to what she would endure in the future. The sense of security that had somehow settled into her in the last twenty-four hours had been ripped from her, and it somehow left her feeling more vulnerable than she ever had before.

She felt Caliban take her hand gently between both of his and her fingers curled around his tightly as she gazed up into his eyes that shone back at her with understanding and affection. “I’m sorry for being so emotional and not knowing what to say.” Her breath stuttered, her voice coming out soft and quiet. She could feel his hands gently tighten as they encased her hand and warmed it. “It all just happened so fast…and I was so scared Mircea was going to show up…” Her breath started to hitch again and she fought another wave of terror and panic that were threatening to rise from the depths of her soul. Her eyes scrunched shut, trying to chase the memories from her mind and ground herself in the present once more there in the room with him.

“Shhhh…we will find everyone that helped Kondrat and they will be eliminated from the staff. Those three who helped you will be added to your security detail. They are all highly worried about you and from now on will be helping to make sure that you are always safe and that there can never again be even the slightest hint of a repeat of today.” Caliban could not miss the slightly confused look in Adira’s eyes when she opened them to look up at him. Did she really think that his staff would dislike her or not want to protect her? What was life on Mircea’s estate? Maybe it was better he didn’t know, what he already knew of her previous life was more than enough to make him want to eliminate the other man. “The second man who shot Kondrat will be joining Lars as security when we leave tonight to go to my mountain cabin for a while. The other two are going to stay here with Theron to help handle Mircea and any other fallout from today. A call did go through,” he saw the rise in panic on her face and quickly continued, “and we’re going to make sure he firmly believes Riona Kalavati is dead. Since they both saw you and Theron is going to be adding your name to company documents, they can all confirm that you are Adira Andros, and there is absolutely no resemblance between you and the former Mrs. Kalavati.” A soft smile formed on his lips as he saw her relax and the logic behind his actions began to sink in. He had no doubt that while they were gone that Theron and the other two would vet all of the staff and guards to ensure nothing even close to this could ever happen again.

“They won’t doubt me because they know who I really am? Even Theron? I mean, he wasn’t wrong about that, just that I was spying on you and betraying you. Does Lars know now?” She felt so nervous, like she was going to vibrate off of the couch if Caliban wasn’t sitting next to her. Why was he even trusting her and being so nice? She was trying to remember why he said he was being so kind? Waking up that morning in his arms seemed like almost a lifetime ago and all he had said before was hazy, let alone the night before.

“Adira, they all know about the past and no one is judging or doubting you in the least. Theron may care for you just as much as I do, darling.” Caliban’s fingers gently caressed the side of her face. She looked so small and fragile at the moment, like she’d shatter from even the slightest blow. He knew in that moment that from then on, he would kill in an instant to protect her without question or hesitation.

“I knew who you were before I ever walked into that house yesterday, and they know that as well, and saw my reaction to you being harmed. Now, you are my wife, and THAT is not going to change. PERIOD.” He brought her hand bearing the ring up to his lips and kissed right below the ring on her finger. “So, do not argue or worry. Hear me?” There was a soft and affectionate smile on his face as he looked down at her. It wasn’t that he did not understand her concern, he was just trying to comfort her the best he knew how. It was not his strong suit; he’d never had to do it.

Regardless of anything else, she trusted Caliban implicitly. She knew the three men he was referring to, and she would trust them as well. They had saved her from whatever fate Kondrat had held for her as well. When he had refused to let her go, they hadn't let him hurt her. “Cal,” she used the shortened version of his name that she'd heard Theron use, “I..” she faltered unsure and saw his brows come together slightly, “are you sure that you still want…” His finger cut her off.

“My beautiful wife to rest and take her medicine when Theron gets back up here, absolutely positive. I’ll take care of packing for you. Do you trust me to do that for you?” Adira nodded. He figured she would, but after all that had happened, he did not want to assume if packing for herself was something that would help her to feel more secure. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and then finally upon her petal soft lips.

“Now, whatever worries or doubts are in your mind, let them go. Just let me handle everything and I will take care of you.” One last forehead kiss, then he rose to take care of the details of preparing for the trip to the cabin. Some time away would do them both some good.

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melonsharks · 8 months

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My shop is open again!

Good omens magnet charms and hlvrai minis are up for pre-order 💖

Also, quite a few items of mine have a very limited stock (the cd charms in particular are unlikely to make a come back!), so go check out those, if you feel so inclined!

->[SHOP]<-

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #good omens #good omens 2 #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #my chemical romance #mcr

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mtndw-whteout · 3 months

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Doodles based on my terumob sims save

Someone ask him for the love of god

#art #artists on tumblr #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #teruki hanazawa #terumob #shigeo kageyama #i had forgotten I made a teru who was a 5 star a list celebrity #and had him meet a shigeo who I hadn’t done much with #he fell in love with him immediately???#like within 5 minutes they had a romance bar already #I don’t know what happened #I do have some mods but its never done anything like that before #also don’t worry #im still working on my detective au #I’ve just been addicted to playing sims 4

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cncrrr · 5 months

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been rewatching the x files with friends and uh. i remembered those iconic photoshoots

hello

#first post on a blog i had for #like. a year #oops #hello mutuals :^)#everyone should watch txf btw its very good #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #reigen arataka #tome kurata #serizawa katsuya #i like my serirei like i like my msr:#ghostbusters office romance and five years of mutual pining #my art

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sarahowritesostucky · 1 month

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Happy Little Family

📖"A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat: Just like her Mommy"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4407

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

This chapter: Bucky shows up unannounced at your cottage, shattering the peaceful life you thought you'd reclaimed for yourself and your daughter. He's reclaiming what's his, and he isn't planning on accepting a "no."

1. A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat, Just like her Mommy

"And then the knight took the princess away to his castle, and they lived happily ever after."

You're just outside the nursery when you hear his voice, and ice cold fear instantly floods your chest. You drop the laundry basket and run into the room, and there he is: seated in the chair you nurse from, reading one of the antique fairytale books that your mom gave at the shower, holding your baby.

"James," you breathe, horrified. He's been smiling down at June, but now his face smooths out as he looks up at you. He isn't frowning or glaring, but you know him, and there's a storm behind those eyes that makes dread curl heavy in your stomach. "Hi Doll," he says quietly. "It's good to see you again."

Your heart pounds in your chest. You feel sick. One wrong move and who knows what he'll do. You take a cautious step forward, eyes searching James' body and anywhere nearby for a gun. You don't see one. You take another step. "James," you warn,

June makes a happy gurgle at seeing you, and James coos down at her, "Aw, yeah Sweetie. I'm happy to see Mommy too."

Mommy. Hearing that word come out of his mouth, in a setting like this, is a nightmare you've woken from more than once. You lick your lips and hold out your arms, pleading, "Please give her to me."

He acts like he hasn't even heard you, smiling and tapping June's body with one finger. "We were just reading a story. Little lady is gonna be a big reader one day, I bet. Gonna grow up to be real smart." His gaze slides back to you, with what you interpret as a world-of-hurt-coming-your-way look glimmering in his eyes. "A clever, tricky little kitty cat. Just like her Mommy."

A whimper escapes you, unbidden.

June starts squirming in his lap, eager to get to you. When he doesn’t hand her over, she starts to fuss. He coos at her and bounces her in his arms to calm her, kisses the top of her head while keeping his somber, reproachful eyes on you. “You left your door unlocked,” he says. “She was alone.”

She’d been down for her nap when you went downstairs and popped across the street to visit with Hilde, your one friend in the world. It’s so common for mothers to do, in this tiny, Nordic village you’ve settled in. It’s the culture here. It’s supposed to be safe. You swallow thickly, eyes flitting around to try and think of what to do. You think of your gun, so far away. You’d talked yourself out of keeping it tucked behind your bed, so now the only weapon you own is down in the kitchen. But maybe … maybe if you can get him away from June …

“You should be more careful, Little thief. You never know who might break in and take everything you love.”

“The only thing we had to guard against here was you,” you hiss. “And I’m not fool enough to think a locked door would keep you out.”

“You’re damned right it wouldn’t.” He tosses the storybook aside like trash and stands up with June in his arms. “But you are a fool if you thought there was anywhere in the world you could go where I wouldn’t find you.”

You flinch forward compulsively, unable to think of your own safety over your baby’s. “Please, James,” you beg. “Please. Just give her to me.”

“Oh no, Dollface,” he purrs, voice deceptively soft. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, and you aren’t gonna want her in the room when it happens.” His hands tighten threateningly on June’s little body. “Whose baby is this?”

You blanch. “Don’t hurt her.”

“Aw. You don’t want me to hurt her?”

“No, please!” The sob that’s been working its way up in your throat finally breaks. It’s killing you not to rush forward and snatch her from his arms. “Please, I'll do anything.”

“Is that so?” He stares at you long and hard. The few seconds of silence are torturous as he holds your daughter away from you.

James is one of the deadliest people you’ve ever met, and he’s capable of horrendous violence, but he wouldn’t hurt a baby, that much you do know. What you have to worry about most right now isn’t him physically hurting her; it’s him wanting her, whisking her away right alongside you, when he inevitably takes you from this place. There’s nothing you can do to prevent your own fate, but if there’s anything you can do to keep him from getting his hands on June, you’ll do it. Your eyes flit around the nursery frantically, its pale, dream-like decorations taunting you as you try to think of what to do. It feels surreal to have a man like James standing in this room, feels wrong.

Your heart leaps when he suddenly moves, but he’s only turning to walk over to the crib, bending and placing June in it with a surprising amount of care. Something painful lances in your chest at seeing him handle her so gently, but when he turns back around to you, all of that gentleness is gone. “Come on,” he snaps. “To the other bedroom.”

You hesitate, not wanting to leave your daughter alone, but he stalks forward and grabs your upper arm, herding you out of the nursery and down the hallway. In your bedroom, he pushes you onto the bed. You land in a heap and scramble to prop back up on your hands, trying to swipe the hair out of your face.

“Whose baby is that?” he demands. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

His Voice. God. After almost a year and a half it should be lessened. The pull you feel when you hear it has no right to tug at you the way it does. You’re not even mated, which makes it all the more insulting. It gets in through your ears and spreads throughout your body, like an invasive plant, growing and sinking its roots into you and tug, tug tugging on your will: Whose baby is that.

You fight the awful urge to tell him, as you rapidly, fearfully weigh your options. It’s hard to think when you’re so frightened, so taken aback. Most people might think it wise to admit the truth, but you know this man, this alpha, and you know he’ll never let her go if he knows that she’s his. Anything, you think. You have to do anything you can to keep her from that life, that world.

Heart in your throat, you insist, “Noone.”

“Noone?” His visage darkens. “Artificial insemination, then? I know they’re progressive and all up here, but don’t take me for a fool, mamochka.”

“It was just some guy! Just a one night stand, I swear!”

He surges in, gets one knee up on the bed and pushes you onto your back when you try to get up, leaning over you and holding you down by your shoulders. “So you did let another man fuck you,” he growls.

You jut your chin out and hiss, “Yes.” (Lying Rule #1: deliver your bullshit with confidence).

“Who? Was he alpha?”

“Why do you care? It was one night in Oslo.” (Rule #2: add in one or two unimportant details.)

“What’s. his. name?”

A bitter sound escapes you (Rule #3: attach honest emotion to it, if you can). “I don’t know his name. I never did. I was just racking up a roster, just wanted to get laid after getting away from you.”

He bares his teeth at you in a snarl, furious, and shoves you harder against the mattress. You cry out and try to hit him, but he catches your wrists and holds them down to the bed easily, shoving you again, one of his powerful thighs pressed up between yours. “You’re mine,” he growls, getting in your face, lying on top of you. “Noone else’s. Not ever.”

You whimper and nod, shaken and keenly aware of his body on top of yours, his strength. James is a massive hulk of an alpha, capable of overpowering you in any situation, and even through your frantic thoughts, you know you’ll never be able to get away from him in close contact like this. He’s so angry, his scent gone thick and choking. You’re too panicked to plan out what it is you’re going to say next, you just wind up instinctively trying to placate him, blurting out, “What do you want?”

He leers down at you. “I want what’s mine. What’s always been mine.” On your wrists, his fingers tighten cruelly. “You’ve had your fun now, and gotten away with it for too damn long. You’re coming home with me, Little thief.”

You gasp as the pressure on your wrists increases painfully, mind flying to that cold, Siberian fortress and the life that awaits you there. You might be able to get away from him before then, but you might not, and you can’t risk June being trapped there as well. “Okay, okay! I’ll go with you, I will. Wherever you want. Just … Please let me give her to the neighbor. Please.”

He smiles nastily down at you. “Oh, you don’t want her to come along? Another man’s pup?”

Tears press at the backs of your eyes at the thought of leaving your daughter behind, but you shake your head. “Please. Just take her over to the woman across the street. She’ll look after her. Please James, she's my daughter. I won’t fight you if you leave her there. She’s nothing to you. Just let her stay where it’s safe.”

Something in his expression shifts, but you don’t have time to figure out what the emotion might be, before he shutters again. He leans down and purrs, “Oh, I don’t know, vorishka [little thief]. You stole some very valuable things from me. And since I don’t see any fucking Picassos hanging in this hovel you call a house, I assume they’re in the wind.”

It wasn’t as though you’d simply been able to run away. Escaping had required finances, techniques, firms of dangerous men hired to plant false leads, erase tracks, ferret you away into oblivion, and then move halfway across the globe and buy yourself a new identity. The bribes alone had eaten up most of the money. You shudder in his grip, knowing that the paintings wouldn’t save you, even if you did have them. “They’re gone.”

“I know they’re gone, Little thief.” He shoves his thigh down against you. “So how are you gonna make it up to me?”

You whimper. “I can’t,” you plead. “James. I don’t have anything.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I can think of a few ways you can start repaying your debt.” He runs one hand down your side, groping your waist as he breathes softly against your ear: “For instance, do you have any idea what she’d be worth on the black market?”

It takes you a split second to figure out what he means, and your heart seizes in terror as soon as you do. You know James is involved in every type of shady, illegal dealing there is in the world, but you’d never even considered the idea of human trafficking. Now that he’s said it, you panic that you’ve made a huge mistake by lying that the baby isn’t his. “James,” you whisper, horrified. “Alpha, please.”

“Oh, it’s Alpha, now, is it?” He chuckles meanly, the sound making your stomach churn. You’re about to say something else, beg in some other, pitiful way, tell him he’s June’s father, but instead you cry out as his hand fists in your hair and yanks your head to the side. His breath hits hot against your skin and he drags his nose up the side of your neck, scenting you. “Mmm,” he hums darkly, pleased. “You spread your legs for another man, but you didn’t let anyone in here.”

You squeak when his teeth scrape over your still-unmarked glands. “No!” you gasp, just as much an answer as it is a plea for nim not to bite you. “I didn’t, I didn’—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, closing his teeth down on the spot. You whine as he pulls your hair and slowly increases the pressure of his bite, threatening to break the skin. Horrified, you feel your body responding with arousal, heat blooming deep in your core. You squeeze your eyes shut, and sure enough few seconds later James is inhaling deeply and chuckling. “Oh, kotenok [kitten]. Still the same as ever, huh?” He shifts, hand slipping down between your legs and cupping you from over the fabric of your dress. “Ripe for your Alpha’s touch, even after all this time. How sweet.” Humiliated rage bubbles up inside of you and you glare up at him. He’s looking down fondly at you, eyes heated and lip drawn into his mouth. He lets it slide back out between his teeth and murmurs, “It’s okay, you know. It’s everything to me, omegechka [little omega], the way you respond. It’s only natural.” You growl angrily, but he just hums and tugs your hair again, other hand molding to your mound and rubbing. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, when you cry out louder. “Don’t want to scare the whelp, do you?”

You freeze, listening to try and hear June. She’s whining from over in her room, not understanding why she’s been left alone when she can hear her mommy’s voice just down the hall. “Please,” you whisper, locking eyes with James again. “Please. Let me go to her.”

He grinds the heel of his hand against you. “I told you, Dollface. You don’t want her here for this.”

He kisses you on the mouth, chaste and lingering; so gentle that for a split second it makes you ache for what you once had with him. James always was very good at making love to you, at lavishing you with a softness and a tenderness even in the darkest of times. But now you can only shiver underneath his weight, because you know that’s not what’s about to happen.

“Seventeen months, moya omegya,” he rumbles quietly, lips brushing yours with the words. “My bed suddenly cold, not knowing if you were alive or dead. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

His tone of voice is so intimately familiar that it makes your heart clench, bringing back memories of a life you’ve fought so hard to put behind you. “Please,” you whisper. “Don’t do this.”

He tuts and shakes his head softly, as if he’s actually remorseful. “How this goes depends entirely on you. I want you to know that.” He hasn’t stopped working his hand against you, rubbing his palm against your clit and smiling at how you shudder beneath him and your body betrays you. You watch his nostrils flare as he smells the reaction he’s pulling from you against your will. “Sweet girl,” he coos. “You just can’t help it, can you?” You toss your head and screw your eyes shut, but he’s having none of it. He yanks your hair and hisses at you to open your eyes. “No,” he warns, once he’s got your attention. He moves back, getting up onto his knees and shrugging off his jacket. “You’re going to watch. The whole time.” His hands land on his belt, the buckle clinking as he opens it and undoes his pants. “I want to look right in your eyes while I take back what’s mine.” He shoves his pants down along with his underwear. His cock springs free, already hard and wet at the tip. A part of him that’s been inside you hundreds of times, probably. Something you’ve craved and debased yourself for.

Seeing it reignites your shame, but it’s the way you feel your cunt pulse and release a fresh wave of slick, that really makes you start resisting again. “Nnh!”

“Ah ah ah, Dollface. That’s not gonna work.”

“Nugh! Lemmo go!”

You fight, of course you do, but it’s almost worse that way, as it only points out how comically mismatched you are to him. He laughs at you and holds down your thrashing body, barely even grunting from the effort of subduing you. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, chuckling breathily as he forces you down with one hand and strokes himself with the other. “I have to tell you, kotenok. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“I hate you!” You manage to get a hand free and you flail, hitting and clawing at him. He inhales sharply as your nails scratch his face. He knocks your hand away with a surprised hiss and, wide eyed, touches the spot where a tiny line of red is welling up on his cheek. The next thing you know, he’s backhanding you, sending spots into your vision and knocking you out of your senses for a few seconds. Your ears ring and you blink, stunned.

His hand appears at your throat, squeezing, pressing up against the arteries. You briefly grapple with him, grabbing his forearm and fighting, but then his thumb notches into place and digs into your glands. Your cries taper off and you go limp with a pathetic, mewling whimper. “Nnnh …”

He leers down at you, adjusting his grip, still jerking his cock as he subdues you with the Hold. “Weak,” he says. “But that’s just how I like you.”

His thumb rubs in circles, sending a rush of liquid gold through your veins. It worsens the situation between your legs, and you can’t hide that any more than you can hide the humiliated tears that prick to your eyes as he shoves your dress up and rips your underwear straight off of you. He coos when he looks down and sees how wet you are. “Oh, omegechka.” He knees your legs further apart and drags his cockhead through your folds. “And this is you hating me?”

You shake with a silent sob, despising him with your whole being, hating yourself for reacting this way. Before James, you’d never met a man who coveted your omega nature so much, hadn’t known what it was to need an alpha that way, to have your body need him. And to think: you used to like it.

He lines himself up and sinks inside of you in one, unyielding push, forcing you to open to him, carving out his space inside of you. You cry out at the force of it, body clamping down hard and the delicate skin at your entrance stinging from the stretch, but he doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated. “Fuck,” he groans, grinding in deep, his pubic bone pressing against your clit, laughing darkly when it makes you squeal. “Oh, you sensitive?” He does it again, and again, doesn’t stop until he gets a high pitched, warbling moan from you. “Theere she is.” He digs his thumb in harder against your glands and stares right in your eyes as he watches the effect it has on you, soaking up the flush in your face and the furious tears welling at the corners of your eyes. “I know, Sweetheart, I know,” he murmurs. “You really can’t help it, can you?” You whimper and he nods along in mock sympathy. “Poor little thing. I can’t imagine what it must be like, to need it that bad.”

“James,”

He pulls out halfway and shoves back in, hard, rumbling in pleasure when it elicits another yelp from you. His other hand grabs at your waist, fingers digging into the soft give of your body. He hums dirtily. “I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised. You look good for having just pushed out that pup. You look healthy.” You whine in protest and he fucks in hard again, baring his teeth in a mean smile. “Yeah, momma, you heard me.” He pulls out, thrusts back in.

“Ss-stop.”

He laughs. “Don’t be like that, krasotka [Pretty(n.)]. I like it. You always were too skinny for my taste.” He runs his hand from your waist up to the top of your dress, yanking it down along with the cup of your bra, and groaning when your swollen breast spills out. You squeal in rage as he curses quietly, eyes going molten and unfocused. “Fuck, Honey, look at you.”

You start thrashing again hard, trying to hit him, but you only get a glancing blow to the side of his head before he refixes his hand on your throat and clamps down in another Hold. He gives you a firm shake. “Settle down. I told you: I like it..”

“Nnn, fuck you!” You spit on him, but he only laughs and wipes it away, leering down at you and continuing gleefully,

“Shouldn’t be skinny like some damn underwear model. Mm mn, naw. Now you’re nice and soft, just like you should be. Somethin’ for Alpha to grab onto. Bitty waist and a fat ass.” He grabs your waist again and pulls you down into the next roll of his hips, changing the angle and hitting that spot inside of you that makes stars burst in your vision.

“Ah!”

“Mmhm. Right there baby? Yeah, thaat’s the spot. I remember.” He’s panting open-mouthed, breathless as he taunts you, “I remember everything. What you like. How you feel. The sounds you make. Fuck.” He shoves into you hard and holds there, his licked-red lips curling up wickedly. “Your cunt’s fluttering around me, Sweetheart. Clamping down so fucking hard.”

“Nnh!”

He laughs, but his smile slackens as his own pleasure continues to build. He angles back and looks down your body, stares at where his cock is disappearing inside of you with lewd, wet sounds. “Shit, momma. And this pussy snapped back real good, didn’t it?”

You cry out angrily, but it’s what he wants: to see you aroused and humiliated and furious at him. He sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming against you hard on the end of each, brutal thrust; his open belt and the zip of his fly digging into your ass every time he grinds inside. “You haven't been fucking anybody,” he says smugly. “How long’s it really been, mamochka? Hm? How long since another man was in this cunt?”

You moan miserably, his cock driving hard against your walls, too rough but not painful enough to keep it from feeling good. James is big, has an alpha’s cock, and it’s never been a physical possibility for him to be inside of you and not rub against every spot that makes your body light up in pleasure. You shake your head and try to close your eyes, but he pushes his hand up harder underneath your jaw, shaking you. “Uh uh. Look at me.”

You can’t fight off the command of his Voice, not when he’s already dominating you so completely. Your eyes open against your will, full of tears, and he rumbles in satisfaction.

“Better.”

Every whimper and mewl you make drives him on, stoking the angry satisfaction that’s burning in his eyes—eyes that you can’t look away from as you cry out again and again, little “Ah, ah, ah's” that interrupt the cadence of your skin slapping together, all of his eager growls and satisfied grunts.

“That’s it, shlyukha,” he pants, hips snapping in hard, again and again. “You—ugh—you let Alpha know how good that feels. Don’t hold it back from me.” His breathing is getting heavier the closer he gets, his composure and even his anger losing some of their hold as he fucks you harder, sinks down on you farther, covers you with his body fully as he ruts into you in pursuit of his climax. “Shit,” he hisses not far from your ear, face stuffed in your neck.

You keen high in your throat at his proximity to your bonding glands—a plaintive sound that directly contradicts the panicked ‘no!’ that flashes in your brain. His hand leaves the front of your neck and scoops around behind instead, gripping you at the nape in a Scruff that feels just as toe-curlingly right as the Hold had.

For a very split second, his breath hitches and his growling trips into a needy whimper. “O-oh …” And that’s when you feel it: his knot starting to catch on the end of each thrust.

“Ah!” You cry out sharply and grab onto him, helpless to keep your body from seeking out more, from clinging to him and clamping down hard as his knot grows and triggers you into orgasm. “Hhgnn …”

He goes feral when he feels your body locking down on him, growling and shoving in and grinding to ensure that he catches inside and ties you together. His hand abandons your neck entirely as he gives in to the instinct to rut, both arms wrapping around your waist, scooping under your back and holding you still for him to fuck furiously against. The tug of his knot inside your cunt makes you sob and come harder, losing sense of yourself as the pleasure cuts through you like a knife.

“Fuck, fuck, ohhfuck …” The sound of his deep voice, so lost in the desperation and helplessness of his own pleasure, makes your belly flare hot with new arousal even as you’re coming down the other side of it. You gasp and pant, and eventually whimper as the bliss dissipates and you become more aware of him on top of you, grunting and groaning and fucking into your tie as he rides out the long, debilitating climax of an alpha.

You keep your eyes closed and cry, hating that it still feels good as he fucks into you, grinds down on your clit and gives your another orgasm, and another. You wait for him to finish as your brain fills with the high that comes after, that unavoidable pink cloud that you know is going to seal your fate and make you helpless to him for the next thirty minutes, at least. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head in the direction of the pillows.

As the high starts to take you, you think about how, if you’d just kept your gun holstered behind by the headboard like you’d planned, you could be blowing his brains out right about now.

A.N.: Soooo ... This is the rape-iest thing I've ever ever written. I hope y'all are okay. Just wanted to drop a note to let you know that this fic WILL lighten up and not be quite so, well, rapey, in the future. Thanks for reading! 💖Sarah

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