#after all hes not the one tearing apart families

[mr2swap]

The Incident: It's not her

-It's not her, It's not her, It's not her- I repeated over and over again from the laundry room where I was hiding, between one of my hands I held my small slippery cock and with the other I held the gym clothes of " Mama,” his tank top was completely soaked with his hot, sticky sweat and his boxers were so wet that he could squeeze the sweat out and drink it like the most delicious juice.

I felt like hell doing this with my mother's clothes... but she was no longer my mother or at least that's what I told myself to try to silence the guilt, "Mama" or rather Frank was living with me and we were increasingly In the same room all I could think about was kneeling before his long hairy legs and taking out his huge cock and worshiping his huge hairy shaft.

It had been a big surprise for the whole family that my own mother was one of those affected by one of those incidents that a group of terrorists were causing throughout the country. This time it happened in the supermarket. My mother was shopping at the supermarket when they released that gas everywhere.

When we saw the news about the terrorist attack we tried to call mom, but no one answered. And hours later the police knocked on our door to bring “mom” back to her home.

I and dad stayed silent for several minutes watching a huge hairy man, almost 2 meters tall, enter our house with a bag full of groceries. “Mom” looked quite embarrassed. His movements were totally feminine and contrasted with that body. A thick beard. It covered his face and the thin fabric of his tank top revealed his muscular, hairy chest.

“Mama” ran to hug us with his long, strong arms, while a couple of tears of sadness stained his handsome face. Mom still didn't control his strength so that strong hug only made things even more awkward between us.

All of this was too much for my dad, He… just stayed silent for days, the house had never felt so bad, but luckily I lived alone and was only visiting to help mom and all the changes she was going through.

A week after the Incident, Mama arrived at my apartment with a suitcase in her hand and with a sad expression on her face.

-Your father and I... we are taking some time-

I knew what that meant dad was always very homophobic, that's the reason I left home, when I came out of the closet dad had the same reaction, ignoring me completely, but this time it was his own wife who was now a “faggot”

At first Mom's posture, movements and way of speaking were very effeminate, when we went to buy some clothes I heard some boys call us “faggots” without knowing that I was only shopping with my mother, but now I barely recognize her .

In just one month Mom started to change, she seemed much happier with her much younger and fit body, she started going to the gym and made new friends, loud, smelly, and extremely masculine guys, little by little Mom got used to his new friends and his new body and he completely became “Frank” Not only with his friends but also with me.

He stopped behaving like a 50-year-old lady and became a muscular airheaded caveman. When he's not devouring everything in the refrigerator while watching a football game in front of the TV, he's fucking some girl in what used to be my room. .

-That loser? Oh yes it's my... friend, his ex just left him and I let him sleep on my couch... but don't worry about him, now let me see those huge tits... -

That's usually his excuse when he brings a girl to my apartment, to fuck her loudly all night. And I... well, I sneak into the laundry room so I can listen much better as he fucks a new girl while I masturbate with her clothes, just like now.

If you liked this story about the "incident" there is a whole series of stories about people who lost their real bodies thanks to one of those attacks that are happening all over the country in my Ko-Fi archives… if you're lucky you could be next.

[xyfanficarchive]

Imagine celebrating Jimmy’s birthday for the first time! He’s probably not a big birthday person because all his childhood birthdays have been awful (except the ones he celebrated with Curly’s family), so he’s not expecting much when you two get together. But then he gets a knock at his door at 12 am on the dot and he goes to yell at whoever the fuck is at his door and he sees you with pizza and a homemade cake. He still yells at you for waking him up (“This couldn’t have happened in the morning??”) but he does have the pizza and cake with you (and he may or may not tear up when he takes a bite of the cake but you pretend not to notice)

Mouthwashing Jimmy x GN!Reader fluff

Jimmy is in that state of complete and utter relaxation in his bed, closer to sleep than not, when the knock comes at his front door. Ripped so unceremoniously from his sweet hypnagogia, he is washed over with irritation, but remains lying with his eyes closed, cursing silently, hoping the interloper will get the hint, maybe check the time and fuck off -

No dice. After a minute, right as his body begins to relax once more, the knock comes again, somewhat more insistent this time. Jimmy's anger swells as he whips the sheets off him, storming out of bed and cursing out loud this time as he stomps barefooted to the door. He doesn't bother with the peephole, it's been scratched to shit on the outside long before he even moved in, so he turns the deadbolt, and with his hand on the doorknob the knock sounds again. "Jesus fuck, I'm here," he seethes, and yanks the door open with the most withering expression he can muster on his face. "What-"

"Happy Birthday, Jimmy!!"

It's you. Standing there, in a glittering cone shaped party hat, face gleaming with toothy ecstatic joy, a burst of vibrant colour against the muted and musty background of his apartment building hallway. A low expression of annoyance escapes his throat as he turns his face to the ceiling, praying to a deity he knew wasn't there for strength...

"Seriously...? I was fucking sleeping, this couldn't have possibly waited until the morning?" He blurts out angrily, but shame and regret tears through his chest when he watches your expression fall, your shoulders slump just that slight angle - he knows you're trying not to look as crestfallen as you feel. In your hands you clutch a pizza box with a round white grocery store cake in its clear plastic dome balanced on top. The icing echoes your words: "Happy Birthday Jimmy!" it reads in cursive, with little multicoloured heart shaped icing balloons and party streamer curlicues represented on the top.

He runs his hand over his weary face and pinches the bridge of his nose while he turns his head to the side, right as you begin to apologize in that small voice: "Oh, I'm sorry, Jim, I was just so excited... I figured you're usually up for at least another hour anyways and we've never-"

He sighs and wordlessly steps aside as he swings the door open, gesturing for you to enter the dark apartment. His face is turned to the floor, he's almost afraid to look at you, but still manages to meet your eyes, gazing up at you through his eyelashes beneath pinched eyebrows. And your expression softens again as you tentatively cross the threshold, a small smile, warm eyes. It hurts. It hurts because he's always waiting for the time when your eyes remain hard, brimming with pain. No matter how he fucks up, you always step willingly into his life. If only you would just turn your back on him, then at least he would know what the fuck to do.

But no. He's still following you blind, through life, into his apartment, into this impromptu birthday celebration, not knowing the boundaries until he inevitably crosses them. Your grace makes him all the more comfortable, just as it makes him want to bolt. He remains suspended exactly where he is, on a tightrope, in the air.

He flicks the lightswitch on as he closes and locks the door behind him, and meets you at his kitchen table where you've laid out the pizza box and the cake side by side.

"I wish I had gotten you a gift but... It was literally yesterday afternoon when Curly messaged me, 'so it's Jimmy's birthday tomorrow, what do you have planned?' and I was like, 'it's fucking Jimmy's birthday?! Tomorrow?!'" You turn to him, mirroring the incredulosity in your voice and expression that you must've had yesterday as you put your bag down on the floor - the bag you bring when you spend the night.

For a moment he doesn't respond, just looks at you as he feels the remorse creep uncomfortably up his throat. "I'm sorry," the apology comes out of his mouth, sticky like vomit. "For shouting at you." That's all he has in him.

You look up at him, a pinched smile on your lips. "Don't worry 'bout it. I woke you up, I would be pissed off too," you concede, reaching up to rest your hand on his arm. Then realization brightens your face: "Oh! I almost forgot!" You grin and reach up to the party hat on your head, moving to take it off but - there were two stacked atop each other, you lift the top one and release the elastic band from under your chin, and before Jimmy can even think, you sweep your arm out and place it on his head, snapping the elastic underneath his chin.

"OW! Fuck," he exclaims as his skin begins to sting, you cringe before him and hiss an apology through your teeth. He rubs at the tender line along his jaw, swallows down the barrage of curses that want to leave his lips. "At least these are more eye catching than the ones they provide on the Tulpar," he mutters, "been the same ones for years, we have to put them back when the party ends. I don't even wanna know how many years of strangers' hair grease is absorbed into those things."

"Your job only gets more glamorous the more you talk about it," you intone with irony as he scoffs, giving you a humourous side eye as he turns to lift the lid of the pizza box.

He feels a rush of simple pleasure, the greasy and savoury smell curling through the air, as he lays eyes on the pizza, laden with all his favourite toppings. "Wow," he drawls, "You remember." He pulls the chair out and takes a slice, drawing long strings of melted cheese out as he tilts his head to the sky, dropping the trails into his open mouth before he bites the tip of the slice.

"You order the same thing every time." You seat yourself beside him and take your own slice.

You eat in relative silence. Occasionally you share small talk, a tidbit from your day. Otherwise it's quiet. Jimmy likes that about being with you. Not having to be "on" all the time, not having to perform the constant babbling meaningless niceties that his every other failed relationship expected of him.

"...You know, I do wish you would open up more sometimes, Jim. I mean, when I think about it, it's kind of crazy that we've been together this long and I didn't even know when your birthday was until the day before. Had Curly not said anything to me, it would have just passed by."

He doesn't meet your eyes, just stares silently into the half eaten pizza, thinking, eyebrows drawn together.

"I'd have loved to do something a bit more special. I just kind of panicked, I was so short on time."

Jimmy feels so extraordinarily vulnerable as your words wrap around him. "Yeah, well, you've heard my sob story," he says, strained. "Doesn't take much to realize my birthday's always sucked." He gathers the strength to look you in the face, give you a smirk. "It's better not to expect anything, you know? Makes it easier for everyone."

It doesn't have the effect on you that he'd imagined. A look of poignant sadness crosses your eyes as you search him. It almost irks him, the last thing he wants is your fucking pity. He feels uncomfortable, pinned under your gaze.

"It doesn't have to suck anymore, you know? I want to help make it... not suck," you say simply, and he turns his eyes down to the table again. It was an option he had never considered. It had been nearly thirty years since he'd given up hope of having a nice birthday. He'd long since driven Curly away from celebrating, because he was never able to feel particularly celebratory, saddled with all the terrible memories, year after year after year of disappointment. Today was a sore day for him. But you have this strange tendency to make everything better. Maybe he could let you try.

"...I guess we can start by eating this cake," he yields. He turns his head when he hears you eject yourself from your seat, sees your beaming grin right before you wrap your arm around his shoulder and press a big kiss to his temple.

"Yes! I'll go get plates and forks. And a knife!" He watches you bounce around his kitchen from cupboard to drawer, before you return with the aforementioned supplies. You hold the knife out to him, gripping it by the blade between your fingers and thumb.

"You're the birthday boy, it's your cake. You gotta cut it," you state matter-of-factly. He snorts, drawing his lips together as he takes the knife, pushing the pizza box out of the way while he drags the cake container right in front of him. He takes the top off, it's deafening plastic ripping noise sounding out in the night as you take your seat next to him, putting his plate and fork next to the cake.

"Should I sing for you, Jimmy?" You tease with a smile.

"God, no. Please," he insists. "This... this is more than enough." He looks from the cake, to the pizza, to your fingers curled around the edge of the table, drumming expectantly. He lines up the knife and sinks it into the cake, cutting one slice, putting it on his plate. Cutting another, that he placed on yours. He watches you lift your plate gleefully and dig in.

He turns down to his own plate, takes a forkful and eats it, savouring the sweet and airy standard vanilla grocery store cake. 'It's good', he thinks, 'guess that's why they still manage to sell these things.'

Last time he got a "cake" from his own family, he had turned nine. It was a little cupcake, fresh out of the plastic wrapper, with a single candle unceremoniously stuck in at a lopsided angle. They'd stopped singing Happy Birthday for him a few years earlier. He blew out the candle and ate it down in three bites. Went to the kitchen to find that the other 5 that came in the box were already long eaten. Next year his dad figured since he hit double digits, he was old enough to not need a cake anymore.

He stares at the cake, its' white icing, the red heart shaped balloon piped onto the top (was it a design they offered or did you request them specifically for him?), the custard between its layers, the sliced off words, Happ Bi J, all of it swimming and wavering in his wet eyes. Was it as stupid as it felt to be so emotional over a grocery store cake?

It's been a long, long while since he'd let tears fall, and he certainly wasn't going to now. Still, he sniffles, thick and wet, and the sound is so obvious, he turns his head towards you and catches you just as you look away, nonchalantly slicing through the cake with your fork and eating the bite.

He puts his plate down on the table. "Hey," he says, quietly grabbing your attention. You look at him and hum in question, so very pointedly casual, even though he knows you know, and certainly you can see his gleaming blubbering eyes if you didn't.

'...Fuck it,' he thinks, and leans over to take you in a hug, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you close as he hides his face in your shoulder. He inhales, a shaky breath, no, he's still not going to cry, but he is going to bask in the warmth of your love as he rides through it.

"Thanks," he chokes out in an almost silent whisper against your shirt. "...I love you, y'know?"

Your arms move to embrace him, pulling him tight to you as your hand goes up to smooth and stroke his hair, to press his face into your shoulder as you lean your head into his, enclosing him in your warmth, your smell. He grasps at the fabric of your shirt as you turn to press a kiss to the crown of his head, to nuzzle into his hair as you caress his shoulder and back and the back of his head, the nape of his neck, and whisper softly in return: "I love you too, Jim."

[romanreignsbae]

Baby Daddy - J.U

A/N: just in favour of our very own main event jey uso winning the royal rumble!!! well deservedly! haters can suck his dick!!

warnings: smut & fluff (hope y’all enjoy!)

Another weekly exchange took place at your home per usual. Every Tuesday Josh would come and pick up your son Elijah until Wednesday evening. Due to his hectic road life, he really only got a day a week to spend time with his son. Josh took every single moment he got with his son, and savoured it. The problems you two had could never come in to say that Josh wasn’t an amazing dad.

Your son Elijah, was the best thing that ever happened to the both of you. You and Josh were high school sweethearts. You never once thought you would get pregnant with his child..at least not anytime soon. But in your last year of college, with a simple week of morning sickness, emotional breakdowns, and crazy cravings, you found out you would now be eating for two. And from there on out it was history.

Josh was ecstatic he was gonna be a father. From a young age he’s always dreamed of being an amazing father. He was even more happier when he found out the two of you would be expecting a boy. He was already picturing throwing around a football with his son, and teaching him all about his samoan family lineage. And even you were ecstatic.

You delivered a healthy baby boy, whom was loved by all the family around him. However for you and Josh, your relationship only weakened from that moment on. Josh was in desperate need of a job, and because of his family background, he turned to wrestling. As much as wrestling was looked at as a glamorous job, it wasn’t all that it seemed. Josh was constantly on the road, and even when he was home, he would be on interview calls or hitting the gym. You on the other hand, were just as busy as Josh. The two of you were constantly on the go and never has time for each other. So you both decided it’d be better if you broke up.

Well, it was you who broke up with Josh. It took a lot of guts to do so, but it had to be done. It was for the better…it seemed. Josh could never take the words ‘broke up’ to his heart, so he used ‘on a break’. You thought it was a immature and delusional way to deny reality, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Dada!” Elijah squealed as Josh walked through the door of your home. “Hey buddy! My mini uce!” Josh spoke back with just as much excitement. Your 2 year old son, ran on wobbly legs towards his daddy. You smiled at the sight. Josh handled Elijah on one hip, while turning to you.

“What’s up Y/n..” he spoke while Elijah was grabbing at his face. “Hey Josh, how are you?” you spoke back nervously avoiding eye contact. The truth was you’d never gotten over Josh. The road broke you two apart, also breaking your heart at the same time. You love Josh with your whole heart to this moment. He was your first kiss, your first boyfriend, your first time, and now the father of your child. When you broke up with him, you only broke your own heart too.

Now 2 years later after breaking up with him, you still want him more then ever. “I’m doing alright. Busy ya know. Well ima take Eli…i’ll see you tomorrow when I drop him off..” he told you while turning towards your door but not before grabbing Eli’s bags. “No! Mama! Come with us!” Elijah screamed out while kicking his feet all over the place.

Josh let Elijah down on the floor and he wobbled over to you. “Mama! Come with us to dada house! All of us!” he spoke on the verge of tears. “Baby..it’s dada’s time with you, i’ll see you tomorrow..” you spoke softly while caressing his little chubby cheek. “Please mama!” he cried out. He had never acted this way before.

“Baby..” you started speaking before getting cut off. “Y/n, I don’t mind if you come with us, you know it’s been a while” Josh cut you off. “Yay! See mama come with us!” Elijah then squealed. You thought about being with Josh for a long period of time, and it made you nervous yet excited. But for your baby, you would go.

“Okay, you guys wait in the car i’ll be there in a minute” you spoke softly. After grabbing your bag and some stuff you would need, you made your way out of your home locking the door behind you. You made your way into Joshua’s car, sitting in the passenger seat.

The car ride to Josh’s house was about a hour away, including the busy traffic. Josh blasted music the whole way to his house, to avoid the awkward silence. Elijah was dosing off in the back, and you took small glances at Josh when you got the chance. You felt him staring too, which only added tension.

Without either of you speaking a word to each other the whole ride, you made you way inside Josh’s beautiful beach side mansion. “Wow Josh! This place is beautiful!” you spoke astonished. He smiled at you. “Thanks...coulda been yours too..” he mumbled the last part thinking you didn’t hear. You did hear, loud and clear, which only added to your regret of breaking up with Josh. You knew he missed you, and you knew he still wanted you. You just couldn’t bring yourself to admit the fact you were still in love with him.

The evening was spent with you, Josh, and Elijah playing board games together, sitting together eating dinner, and ended with watching ‘The Lion King’ all together on Josh’s massive L shaped couch.

“He’s asleep” Josh spoke quietly. You looked down to your side to see Elijah fast asleep. “Yeah he is” you agreed. “Lemme go put him in bed, wait here.”

You waited for Josh, wanting to know why he wanted you to wait. You should be back home right now. ‘Aight..” Josh mumbled walking back into the living room, making his presence known.

He sat beside me on the couch and waited a minute before talking. “Y/n..ion even know where to start, there’s so much I have to admit to you..lemme start off by saying, I miss you, a lot.” he admitted.

You softly smiled. You were happy Josh admitted this so now you could get everything off your chest. “Josh, you don’t even know how much I regret breaking up with you back then..we were just in such a bad place and I was so scared that you’d find someone else while you were on the road, and truth is i’ve never stopped loving you..” you admitted.

He smiled at you showing off his pearly whites. “I love you too baby” he leaned in and your lips met for a soft kiss. You felt him grab your hips and pull you on top of his lap. While sensually kissing he moved your hips on top of his in a circular motion, creating friction. You gasped in pleasure softly.

You could feel a tent beginning to grow under you, adding to your pleasure. Josh groaned out. You took charge and pulled back from the kiss. “Life your arms up” you mumbled out of breath. Josh complied, and you took his shirt off.

“You sure?” Josh asked. You needed this desperately. After you broke up with Josh, you had no time to be with anyone sexually, and you missing him didn’t help the matter. “Yes, im positive” you spoke back.

You felt Josh’s hands roaming your clothed body, and he began stripping you piece by piece. Your body shivered at the sudden contact with the cold air. You were now left in only your panties, as Josh was left in his boxers. He once again moved his head down towards mines and shared a passion full kiss. Our tongues fought for dominance in which he won.

He broke away from your lips and peppered kisses on your jaw, then moving to your neck. You were surprised when you felt him sucking extra hard on your sweet spot, even after these few years, he remembered where you were extra sensitive.

“J-josh please!” you squeaked out. He continued his assault on your neck, and you swore you could feel his lips curve into a smile. “What you want mama?” he mumbled. “You..”

He pulled back from your neck and peppered kisses down towards your chest. He grabbed one of your breasts and massaged it in his large hand.

He then lowered his head down and softly took your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it lightly. You let out a moan to the feeling of his mouth. He did the same with your other breast and peppered kisses down your stomach.

He continued his kisses down to your thighs, once in a while biting down softly causing you to squeal. He was purposely denying the spot your body craved him most. Josh always knew how to drive you insane before finally giving into what you wanted.

He slowly slid your panties off in one swift motion exposing your core to the cold air. Your body was now covered in goosebumps hence the chilliness of the room.

“Missed this pretty pussy..” he mumbled while running his finger through your folds. “Yeah, yeah whatever just-” you were cut off by his head suddenly being pushed between your thighs and his mouth hungrily devouring you. You moaned out in ecstasy. You had almost forgot how talented Josh’s mouth was matched with your lower set of lips.

He sucked hastily at your clit almost sending you over the edge. You began grinding your hips onto his face, causing him to pull away quickly. “Baby if you gon cum its gon be on this dick” he spoke with deep chuckle. You whined at sudden loss of warmth from your lower region.

Josh chuckled at your neediness. As he took off his boxers revealing his hard length. You felt so touch deprived, as you moaned out into the chilly air of the room evoking a deep chuckle from him. “I gotchu baby, I gotchu..”

The tip of his dick slowly stretched you out as you almost practically screamed at the amazing sensation. Josh continued entering inside you at a steady pace allowing you to adjust to the now unfamiliar feeling. Your eyes were droopy as you looked up to see him with his mouth open as his eyes were also fluttering shut. “Damn baby, you always so tight for me, just for daddy..” he barely choked out.

Once he was fully inside you, he began thrusting into you at a very slow pace, prolonging the beautiful orgasm he knew you were on the verge of having. “P- please, daddy..please faster” you asked quietly barely being able to speak.

Without warning Josh began moving at a speed you could barely keep up with, causing you both to moan loudly with pleasure. “We gotta keep it down baby..we don’t want Eli wakin up” he spoke while not once slowing his pace.

The familiar feeling began brewing inside your lower belly, tingling all around signalling you were close. “I’m almost- i’m gonna” you choked out on the verge of tears. You forgot how intense sex was with Josh.

“I know baby, I know..” he mumbled while moving his hand down to playing with your clit sending you straight over the edge. “Fuck Josh!” you wailed as he held you down with his arm as you convulsed.

He continued chasing his own nut at a severe pace, which was slightly overestimating you. Before you could get a word out you felt his warm speed paint the walls of your now swole pussy.

He moved off you, lying down on the couch beside you gathering you in his arms before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I love you baby, and I want us to be a family this time, for real.”

“Mmm yeah me too, love you Josh..” you whispered as sleep overcame your body, while you slept in the arms of the man you have always and always will love.

[meadowfics]

doomed by the narrative

kang sae-byeok x f!reader

this is a prequel to this fic I have written for sae-byeok

warnings: comforting prequel.

you and sae byeok were a team.

always had been. always would be.

two shadows slipping through seoul, stealing just enough to keep yourselves afloat, just enough to survive another day.

neither of you were proud of it, but pride didn't keep the heat on or food in your stomachs.

survival came first.

sae byeok was the strategist. she knew the streets, the markets, and the blind spots in convenience stores for someone who has not lived here for long.

she timed everything to the second, knew when the shopkeepers got distracted and when the security cameras turned away.

you were the distraction, the one with the quick hands and quicker tongue.

she hated when you made yourself the center of attention, but she never stopped you.

"you're going to get yourself killed one day,"

she'd mutter after you slipped a wallet from someone's coat and passed it to her as you walked.

"not as long as you're around,"

you'd reply, bumping your shoulder against hers.

she'd roll her eyes, but you caught the flicker of amusement in them.

nights were spent roaming the city together, dodging police, avoiding the places where debt collectors lingered.

when the cold got unbearable, you'd sneak into subway stations and sit on the farthest benches, hands tucked into each other's sleeves for warmth.

"we should go somewhere warm one day,"

you murmured once, watching people step onto a train you couldn't afford.

"somewhere far,"

sae byeok agreed.

every few days, she'd visit cheol.

you never went inside with her, never got too close, but you always walked her there.

always stood across the street, hands stuffed in your pockets, waiting while she sat with her little brother by the park that the orphanage owned.

sae byeok's face was soft with cheol in a way you never saw anywhere else.

sometimes, she’d come back to you, eyes shining like she was holding back tears.

"he’s getting bigger,"

she'd say, and you'd squeeze her fingers between yours.

"he’s safe,"

you always reminded her.

the debt was always there, hanging over your heads, but sae byeok had a way of making it feel small.

she promised you that things would be fine, that you'd figure it out.

so you believed her. as long as she was beside you, you believed anything.

"you’re all i need,"

you whispered to her once, late at night, on the rooftop of an abandoned building where you both sometimes hid.

"don’t be stupid,"

she said, but her fingers curled tighter around yours.

the last time you saw her before everything changed, you were walking her home.

the streets were quieter than usual, the buzz of the city muted under flickering streetlights.

sae byeok’s shoulders were tense, like they always were when she thought too much about the future.

"you staying?"

she asked when you reached her building.

you hesitated. you always stayed with sae byeok each night.

tonight, you had somewhere else to be.

"I can't tonight.. I have to see my family since its my sister's birthday,"

you said, shifting on your feet.

sae byeok nodded, but there was something in her expression.. something unreadable.

"don’t take too long," she said finally.

"wouldn’t dream of it."

after a kiss goodbye, you walked away, hands deep in your pockets, already counting down the hours until you'd be back by her side.

then, in the subway, he found you.

the man in the suit.

the game.

the card.

the beginning of the end.

you never made it back to her apartment. you never got the chance.

you did not see sae-byeok again until the start of the games, inside of the hellhole that would ruin anything good you've ever had.

the second part to this fic

[vigilante-3073]

It’s my birthday is on Saturday! Could I have please a Gregory house x reader imagine?

Birthday Girl

Gregory House x Female Reader

Summary: It is Y/N's birthday and everyone seems to have forgotten but House.

TW: Established relationship, surprise party, House being sneaky.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 🥳🎂🎉 Hope you have the best day ever!

F/N: Father's name M/N: Mother's name

It was Y/N's birthday.

Y/N was a relatively simple person and didn't expect much fanfare on her birthday, but she at least wanted it to be acknowledged. It was almost lunchtime and not one person had wished her a happy birthday.

Y/N hadn't received a single call or text from friends or family either and it was starting to get to her. She sat alone at a table in the cafeteria, picking away at a dry muffin while trying not to cry.

Y/N looked up when House sat down across from her, her eyes quickly returned to the dissected baked good as she tried to keep herself together.

"You've been upset about something all day long. You've been virtually useless in differentials and I think I know why," House started.

"Why?" Y/N questioned softly.

He stuck a hand into his blazer, pulling out a pink envelope and setting it down on the table. Y/N glanced up at him before picking it up, she opened it and slid out a card.

It was blue with a cartoon goose in a party hat on the front, in swirly pink writing it read:

Happy Birthday, you silly goose!

Y/N felt tears gathering in her eyes, "Happy birthday, Y/N," House said.

"Thank you," She said softly.

"I made reservations for us at that fancy place you like, I'll pick you up at eight," House stated.

"Okay," Y/N smiled.

House stood up from the table, "Get some real food in the meantime, none of the stuff they bake here is edible," House said.

House and Y/N had been dating for almost three years. She was an important member of his team and feelings developed between them as they spent more time together. House always had a soft spot for Y/N and he tended to be more gentle with her than he was with other members of his team.

Cuddy and Wilson both talked to Y/N when their relationship was in the early stages. They wanted her to be careful and advised her that being with him was not a good decision.

Y/N and House worked together, he was her boss and he was House, which was reason enough for her to steer clear.

House was rude, manipulative, sarcastic and downright abrasive while Y/N was the complete opposite. She was kind, trusting, soft-spoken and generally sweet, everyone who met her absolutely loved her.

Wilson and Cuddy thought that House would ruin her.

House may not have always been the romantic type, but he definitely cared for Y/N. He looked out for her in ways that weren't obvious, discreetly checking in to make sure she was doing alright.

For the most part, House had done well with keeping his relationship out of the workplace. Other than a few nasty jokes here and there, he treated her the same as his other employees. Things got easier as time went on and Cuddy was actually surprised that he was able to compartmentalize.

The rest of the day was eventful, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary when it came to being on a case with House. The patient was lied to and browbeaten into making the decision that eventually led to their diagnosis and subsequent cure.

House drove to her apartment after they had finished the case, he brought her a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift. He made his way up to the door and knocked, breath catching in his throat when he saw her.

Y/N had always dressed well, but seeing her fully made up always managed to take his breath away.

"You look hot," He said.

Y/N smiled, "Thank you," She replied.

"Got these for you," House said, holding out the bouquet to her.

"Aw, that's sweet. Just give me a minute to put them in some water and then we can go, okay?" Y/N asked, House nodded.

Y/N made her way into the kitchen, House stepped into her apartment and closed the door. He set the gift on the table next to the couch, moving over to the kitchen and watching Y/N as she trimmed the flowers.

Y/N placed the colorful flowers into the water before setting the vase in the center of her kitchen island.

"I know you like pink so I asked for whatever was the most pink," House stated.

"I love them. Thank you, Greg," Y/N smiled.

He nodded, "We should get going, got a reservation in twenty minutes," He said.

...

Dinner went off without a hitch, they had a few drinks and shared a dessert before House walked her back to his car. He opened the door for her, she thanked him as she slipped inside.

House nodded, closing the door behind her before moving around to the driver's side. He drove back to her apartment with the radio playing softly as they talked. House parked the car and walked her up to her apartment, standing behind her as she unlocked the door.

Y/N opened the door, the lights turned on suddenly before the large group of party guests yelled, "Surprise!"

Y/N turned to look at House, "Did you plan this?" She asked.

He nodded, "I know how crazy you are about birthdays so I told everyone to keep quiet about it until the party... Then you were moping around so much that I caved and got you the card," House said.

Y/N smiled, sliding her arms around him and giving him a hug, "Thank you," She mumbled.

He returned her embrace, "You're welcome... Now go enjoy your party," He said.

Y/N pulled away, stepping into her apartment with a happy smile. Everyone was there, including her parents that House flew to New Jersey for the occasion.

House settled himself on the couch with a drink as he watched his girlfriend interact with her friends and family. He knew that he was lucky to have her, but times like these just showed him exactly how lucky he was.

Y/N almost had too many friends to invite, everyone she had ever met fell in love with her and it baffled him.

How could a person be so magnetic to everyone around them without intending to be?

Y/N had no greater motivations, she was just genuinely happy and House wanted to be like that.

Y/N made her way over, sitting down on the couch beside House and crossing her legs, "You enjoying the party?" He asked.

"I am, but you're not," Y/N stated.

"I enjoy spending time with you, not a fan of the crowd," House said.

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" She questioned.

"You just want me to help you clean up this mess," House said, Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile.

"You're right, I only want you to stay over for your cleaning abilities. Not because I like you or anything," Y/N teased.

"I'll stay," House nodded.

"Good, I was hoping that you would," She replied.

"Since I managed to steal you away from your many adoring fans," He started, reaching over and grabbing the wrapped gift that he had left on the table.

House held it out to her, "Open it," He said.

Y/N took the gift from his hand, carefully tearing away the paper. She let out a soft gasp when she realized what it was, a pristine first edition copy of her favorite book.

"Where did you find this?" She asked softly.

"I've been looking around for a while," House said.

"House, this must've cost you a fortune," Y/N said, looking over the book and examining the details.

"You're worth every penny," He stated.

Y/N looked up at him, "You're a really sweet guy, House. Thank you," She said.

He nodded, "I should go introduce myself to your parents, learn what kind of craziness is in my future," House said.

"You go do that," Y/N said, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. House stood up from the couch, making his way over to Y/N's parents.

"Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Gregory House," He said.

"I'm F/N and this is my wife, M/N. Thank you for inviting us," Y/N's father said.

"Yes, we really appreciate you flying us down to see her," M/N said.

"Of course, you're her parents and you should be here," House nodded.

"We've heard a lot about you, Doctor House," M/N said.

"Don't believe everything you hear... Unless they're good things, then they're completely true," House said.

M/N smiled, "Our daughter seems quite smitten with you and I can definitely see why," She said.

"I'm a lucky guy," House nodded, tapping his cane on the ground gently.

"I was actually hoping to get your blessing to ask her to marry me," House admitted.

Her mother smiled widely, looking over at her husband, "I just need to know one thing, Doctor House... Do you love her?" F/N asked.

"More than I've ever loved anything," House stated.

"Then of course, you have our blessing," F/N said, holding out his hand to House. He shook her father's hand with a small smile, knowing that he was about to make the best decision of his life.

...

Y/N woke up the next morning, eyes fluttering open to the bright sunlight filtering in through the window. Y/N turned onto her other side, realizing that the space beside her was unoccupied. House tended to have bouts of insomnia, but usually wound up in bed beside her before she woke up in the morning.

Y/N let out a soft sigh, eyes drifting over to the alarm clock on the nightstand.

"Oh, crap," She mumbled, climbing out of bed quickly and rushing into the bathroom when she realized that she was incredibly late for work.

Y/N brushed her teeth, combing her hair and pulling it up into a ponytail. Y/N made her way out of the bathroom, searching through her clothing quickly to find an outfit.

"Where's the fire?" House asked, making his way into the bedroom with a tray in his hands.

"I'm really late," Y/N mumbled shakily, trying to keep the panicked tears at bay.

"I called in for you and I already," House said.

"You did what?" Y/N asked, turning to face him.

"You and I are out sick for the day," He stated.

Y/N let out a huff, her shoulders sinking as she looked at him, "Why didn't you tell me?" She asked.

"You were asleep," He shrugged, "Get back in bed, I made breakfast," He said.

Y/N shuffled over to the bed, climbing under the blankets and settling on the mattress with her back against the headboard.

House placed the tray over her lap, "I thought I had a bit more time before you woke up in a panic," He said, moving around the bed and getting in beside her.

Y/N huffed, "You almost gave me a heart attack," She said.

"My bad... I hope that the chocolate chip pancakes and bacon I made will fix it," He said.

"It might," Y/N replied. She shared her meal with House, sipping on her coffee while he watched her.

"I have a question for you," He said, she looked over at him.

House slipped a hand into the pocket of his pyjama pants and pulled out the small velvet box. He flipped the lid open with his thumb before holding it out in front of her. Y/N's eyes widened, gaze flickering between the ring and House.

"Will you marry me?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, what?" Y/N mumbled quietly, House smiled.

House let out a soft laugh, hand dropping onto the bed, "Did you not understand the question?" He asked.

"No... I-I don't know," Y/N said softly.

"I'm gonna ask again, alright?" House questioned, she nodded.

"Will you marry me?" He asked.

"Did you ask my dad?" Y/N questioned.

"I don't want to marry your dad, I want to marry you," House stated, smile widening.

"No, did you ask him for his blessing?" Y/N asked.

"Of course I did and he said yes. Now, I'm gonna ask you for the third time and I need you to focus because asking four times would be humiliating, alright?" House said.

"I'm sorry, I just- I wasn't ready," Y/N said, her cheeks flushing.

"Will you marry me?" House asked.

"Yes," Y/N replied, a wide smile breaking out across her face.

"Finally! My god, I was starting to think that I'd never get an answer," House said.

Y/N cupped his cheeks, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. She pulled away and House took her left hand into his, plucking the ring from the box and sliding it onto her finger.

Y/N smiled as she looked down at it, "It's beautiful, House," She said.

"Wilson helped me pick it out. He's got a lot of experience with ring shopping," House said.

"Well, I love it, it's perfect," Y/N assured.

"I'm glad you like it... Happy birthday, Y/N," He said.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

snap's uber cringe vampire cherik rambling !!!!!! read at your own risk of charles/erik origins But If They Were Vampires and more !!!!

very simple makeshift vampire age map for the sake of understanding this vague timeline i have (hint: just multiply by ten) this is all subject to change because time is mean and im indecisive

infancy - 0 - 40

childhood - 50 - 120 years

adolescence - 130 - 170 years

emerging adulthood - 180 - 240 years

older adulthood - +250 years

elderly - +700 years

about dhampirs: they're not immortal like vampires, they just have a (much) longer life expectancy than humans (they really are just like 'weaker' vampires in this, only possessing half of their strengths and weaknesses)

'what's our time period' EXCELLENT question brother.

jk i think the main events will be set victorian-edwardian period (1850's-1910's) but charles and erik are at least a couple centuries old- probably born amidst the late 1500's (1580's-90's more specifically), maybe meet during the 1800's

charles' profile

charles heralds from a wealthy vampire family whos had their influence in england for centuries (maybe established roots during the 5th century), the general public none the wiser to their vampirism. at most there's rumors, but the family's charismatic enough to keep the murmurs at bay

brian is like. a little less evil to charles in this timeline. most of their time together being brian teaching charles how to run the family's business and whatever else vampires do to balance the life of a vampire and a human. at most, brian emotionally neglects charles as he stays vigilant in ensuring the xavier family can prosper for centuries. sharon xavier would be the one to instill all that is good and human in charles despite her own vampirism (most likely turned by brian before they had charles)

brian xavier is murdered by human kurt marko once the latter figures out his vampirism right before europe's widespread vampire hysteria (so maybe late 1600's)- not for any heroic purposes but so he can steal the xavier family's wealth of course.

he holds the xavier's vampiric origins over them until his eventual death (maybe early 1700's).

considering the idea charles' accidentally summons a pack of wolves to the house during a heated moment and they tear him apart- maybe kurt tries to protect cain and charles idk. charles wouldn't realize he caused this until much later while learning about his vampirism, BUT im still chewing on this so don't take this as 100% canon to this au.....

kurt never discloses the true nature of the xaviers to cain while he's alive, but as the boys grow older cain figures it out for himself and decides to dedicate his life to hunting down charles- how much of it is to rid the world of one less vampire or to vent the unhappiness he experienced growing up in the xavier household onto his brother is unclear

while kurt was alive, he experiments on charles in an attempt to understand his vampirism in an attempt to achieve eternal life without the drawbacks of vampirism. but i mean how good can your science be: evidently he fails vjELKJALKJ

as an adult, charles is curious about his own vampirism as he attempts to live amongst humans and perhaps help them (maybe not give them eternal life but at least how to extend life). he doesn't seek to 'cure' himself, only figure out how his biology works to live comfortably and safely: after all, there must be a reason as to why he was born this way, he reasons

he pursues a life of medicine to do this and along the way meets moira mctaggart (around late 1700's/early-1800's), a scientist working closely with the occult and isolated from general society. after some time, he reveals he's a vampire to her and they effectively become partners to further understand vampirism (but not romantic partners)

most of their work concerns why vampires 'need blood' and how to find a suitable substitute ('surely it's not blood itself that satiates vampires but a property within it?'), but they also look to find out why vampires can be weak in the sunlight and why they appear immortal (aka: they're purely scientific in their approach to the vampire phenomena instead of thinking it's magical, charles reasoning that vampires are just humans with a type of evolved biology. time will tell if he's right or wrong in this approach, and brother he has plenty of time)

erik's/max's profile

compared to the house of xavier, the house of eisenhardt- while not as wealthy- still maintained some sort of reputation in east prussia. however, the news of their vampirism easier leaks amidst the mid-1700's heightened paranoia of vampires (probably a domino affect of the rumor of Renowned Xaiver Family being one of vampires expanding after kurt's death), and he finds himself to be the only survivor amidst the violence against his family

fleeing further east and with the benefit of his youthful visage despite his real years, max has no problem using his intelligence and experience to find work to support himself and manages life alone until he eventually meets magda (maybe around the same time charles meets moira, 1790's). with her being human, it isn't long until she and max introduce little dhampir anya into the world

he tells magda of his vampiric origins (after all, if they were going to have a baby it'd prob be best to let her know the baby's gonna be part vampire right..), but whether it's disbelief or not fully grasping the implications of such, magda accepts and loves him. max vows never to feed off his wife, mostly feeding off hunted animals to satisfy himself

for a while, max was content to live in relative solitude with his family: he wouldn't bother the humans, and in turn they shouldn't bother him. but soon enough (talking Ten Years Later soon enough), the true nature of max and his family is uncovered in the quaint town they lived in, and history threatens to repeat itself as a growing mob attempts to torch their home. they can't succeed before max makes a bloody example of the mob- a display that frightens magda and has her flee with anya in her arms. that would be the last time max sees his wife and child. he effectively repurposes the site of where he lost his family as a quaint memorial to them and the grounds remain relatively untouched bar his annual visits (the common people more often rumoring it to be cursed as a result)

max would change his name to 'erik lehnsherr' as a way to bury his past and move on with his new, less-human-sympathetic life. uttering his real name weakens his power if not strips them away for some time entirely, so he's greatly secretive to who he tells it to (spoilers: he never tells anyone). he spends most of his time alone in his castle, going out at night to feed off late-night wanderers in nearby cities

as for wanda and pietro, debating on exactly what to do with them and if they're blood related to erik or not. considering having pietro be a dhampir that maintained his superspeed while wanda's still just a witch. not sure what to do about lorna either. at the very least, if they do live with erik, he's greatly protective and overbearing about them (a possible blend of keeping them close to use their might against humans, and not wanting to lose any more of his family)

The Part People Are Here For charles and erik interacting

How Do They Meet wow great questions today !!!

around 1810's, probably during one of erik's Feeding Nights he bumps into charles and attempts to make dinner of him, charles at this point passing far too easily as a regular human. the ensuing encounter/fight eventually leads to charles having to reveal himself also to be a vampire (probably as a result of having to resort to using telepathy to keep erik at bay and thereafter explaining himself)

despite the rocky start, neither can hide the fact they're ecstatic about meeting another vampire and become fast friends. Yknow. After overlooking the Sorry I Tried To Eat You part

so now charles spends his mornings with moira and his humanly duties and at night he sometimes spends time at erik's abode and with his children (if i decide they live with him of course).

moira can't ignore the way charles lights up when talking about erik (and how could she: even if he was candid with her about his experiences, it was an entirely different feeling talking to another vampire who already understood- and perhaps understood better). as such, she doesn't let charles forget erik could potentially be a danger- something charles can't forget if he wanted to (see again: them meeting the first time. still, he chooses to believe in the better parts of erik)

of course charles tries to dissuade erik from seeing humans as purely food or menaces and encourages him to work alongside himself to find more 'ethical' ways to be a vampire, but of course erik is resistant to the idea and at times admonishes charles for his thinking.

Everyone's Favorite Part: The Divorce

for a while- maybe five years- erik isn't aware of moira's existence. but on a night charles neglects to visit him he spots the pair walking to moira's home. following them, he's quick to discover moira's lab and realizes charles has been cooperating with a human this whole time (how much had he told her about erik? how much of their weaknesses did he expose to her? why wouldn't he tell erik about moira sooner if she wouldn't be an issue?)

enraged, erik doesn't wait for an explanation as he barges into the small shack and barks accusations of betrayal at charles. it only gets worse when moira is puzzled that charles didn't tell erik about her when he was more than happy to tell her about erik, only reaffirming erik's suspicions charles was attempting to doom vampires as a whole

what happens next im still up in the air about, but it'll be how charles loses the use of his legs in this universe

scenario a is while erik and charles brawl in moira's shack, she hurls holy water onto erik and disfigures his face. while he's down, she attempts to throw more holy water on him to at least give her and charles more time to escape only for charles to shield him at the final moment. while he's mostly unharmed, his legs get burnt as he pushes erik out of the way and finds he isn't able to regenerate the damaged limbs

scenario b is moira still gets erik with the holy water, however charles drags them out of the shack and tries to break for the nearest town. unfortunately, during their escape erik finds one of moira's silver-tipped crossbows (or something to that affect: still deciding if he should have control over magnetism in this but Details Details) and shoots charles in the spine ultimate style. going off the myth silver is Not Good for all 'unholy' and dead creatures of course, charles' nervous system isn't properly able to regenerate for Above Mentioned Reasons (his body's so 'dead' the antibacterial properties of silver eat away at him). the cruel irony of it all really (or silvery... heh.. metal...)

as a result of being burned by the holy water, erik would wear his helmet more often- at least until he feeds off enough humans to regenerate the damaged tissue (note: only human blood can restore holy-artifact-induced wounds, which means charles won't regain the use of his legs because of his refusal to consume human blood)

either way, once she and charles escape erik and relocate, moira stays with him for some time- at least long enough for charles to get used to his new way of life without his legs and figure out what they should do next, maybe two-three years. eventually, charles and moira agree it might be safer to work apart from each other and effectively split. probably leads to charles moving to america to keep an eye on vampires on the other side of the globe while moira keeps an eye on europe

after the encounter with moira and charles, erik becomes more active and now seeks out other vampires (or humans to turn into vampires), fully intending on converting the world to become a vampire's (and hell why not monsters in general) paradise

Things to iron out

the difference between animal and human blood

Whats the benefit to drinking human blood: is it tastier? More nutritious? Evidently its restorative properties are more potent for vampires than animal blood

Maybe more animal blood is needed to supplement human blood (i.e. one human may need the blood of- say- five pigs or something yk what i mean)

Maybe its possible for a vampire to live off animals only, it’d just be more difficult and they might not be as physically strong as vampires who feed off humans

Would they eventually cave into craving human blood? Is it a conscious effort to Not feed off humans? Curious….

Perhaps moira tests the effects of human vs animal blood on charles, offering blood from her arm both directly from her and extracted first to then drink. He cant argue its wrong if she’s offering for science no…. Its For Science Charles its ok…

Another thing i want to solidify is time period: on one hand i wanna do this modern-ish period but im also thinkin bout the 14th century…. Shrug i still have a lot of finer details In General ill work out with myself. For now it’ll prob remain around 1700’s-1900’s

A final minor thing i wanna work on is erik’s ‘real’ name and his name situation in general, mostly how magda knew him. Maybe changes his name to ‘erik lehnsherr’ after the eisenhardt incident, and goes by ‘magnus’ after magda, her knowing him as ‘erik’ while charles mostly knows him as ‘magnus’. ‘Count magnus’…. Hm…. Dunno if i wanna reintroduce ‘magneto’ into this or not …… ill figure it out at some point …

Perhaps other vampires and dhampirs saying his real name doesn’t negatively affect him and it’s strictly only if humans/non-vampires say it

[mysteryhackin]

Stanuary Week 4: Healing

Gosh it's the end of Stanuary! It went by so quickly- there are so many stories I need to catch up on, and so many awesome pieces that were made! Thank you so much @stanuary for making the worst month of the year the best!

Without any further ado, here is Stanuary Week Four: Healing (just kidding; a little more ado- this one is slightly more violent than usual because, y’know, Stan gets hurt)

Stan has been through a lot in his life, and he has the injuries to show for it. Here are some stories about five of those injuries- and one about healing.

Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey; 1960-something

Ford whooped from the sand below. “That’s the highest you’ve climbed yet, Stanley!” he shouted excitedly. “I think you’re going to make it!”  Stan grinned his gap-tooth grin despite the struggle he was facing to not slide down the mast of the old boat they were restoring.  The brothers had been trying to get up to the crow’s nest for a month now, and after splinters and sunburn and sweat, it looked like Stan was finally going to reach it. 

The encouraging cheers from his twin gave him the strength to keep shimmying up the mast, even though his arms were starting to feel like jello and the sun seemed to be the hottest it had ever been.  But Ford thought he could do it, and he was never wrong.

His hands touched the top of the crow’s nest as Ford went wild below him, and with one last heave he hauled himself over the railing to stand and look at the view-

When the rotten wood below his feet gave way, sending him plummeting to the deck of the boat.

Pain shot through his right arm as he landed on his side, and he automatically clutched his right elbow to get it to stop. The sun was soon blocked out by his brother’s face hovering over him, and Stan realized Ford was saying his name over and over again.

“Cut it out, Sixer, I’m fine,” Stan said, but the tears coming out of his eyes made his voice crack, and he shut his mouth to keep from sobbing.

“Let me look at your arm,” Ford said, and even though he didn’t want to, Stan let go of his elbow so his brother could inspect it.

He yelped at the first touch of Ford’s hand, and turned away so his brother wouldn’t see him cry.  “I think you broke your elbow,” Ford said, his voice drenched with worry.  “You’ll have to wear a cast for the rest of the summer.” 

Somehow the prospect of a summer immobilized by a cast seemed worse than the pain.  “No...” he managed to squeak out, but he could no longer stop the sobs.  “The Stan O’War can’t wait an entire summer!”

Ford helped his brother up, and wrapped his arms around Stan as he sobbed into Ford’s jacket.

“It will be fine Stanley.  We have a long time to finish restoring the boat.” Ford said, and Stan was instantly comforted.

~*~*~*~*

Stan took the cast off a couple of weeks early because he was going to go crazy if he had to live one more day with that stupid thing preventing him from doing what he wanted to.  Although Ford protested, his arm seemed to work just fine.  “Knew it,” he muttered to Ford.  “Doctors are all just a buncha quacks.”

But his right elbow would sometimes have a funny click when he moved it that never went away.

Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey; early 1970-something

Stan staggered into the bathroom he and Ford shared in their family apartment over the pawn shop, grateful for what seemed like the millionth time for the back entrance that allowed him to sneak in without having to walk past his dad in the shop. 

He gripped the sink with his bruised and bloodied knuckles, trying to fight the dizziness and nausea that was threatening to either make him lose his lunch or black out.  He closed his eyes and focused on the cool porcelain against his skin, and after a few seconds he hazarded moving one of his hands momentarily to turn on the cold water spigot.  He nearly lost his balance, but the cold water sounded fresh and inviting, and after a small deliberation, he decided to slowly kneel down and rest his head against the sink so he could put his hands under the water.  He sighed with relief as he felt less in danger of falling over, and let the cold water run over his stinging knuckles. 

When he felt a little better after about half a minute, he moved his hot wrists under the cold, grateful his nausea was starting to dissipate.  Of course, he still hadn’t opened his eyes again yet, and knew the moment he did the room would start spinning again...

“Stanley!” Ford shouted in shock.

“Keep... keep it down, will ya?”  Stan mumbled.  “I don’ want Ma to see.”

“Holy Moly, what happened to you?” Ford asked, still just as shocked, but at least his voice was in a quieter tone this time. 

“You shoulda seen the other guy,” Stan muttered, hazarding a grin to where he thought Ford was.  He still wasn’t ready to open his eyes.

He heard Ford sigh, a little too exasperatedly.  “Stanley,” he started.  “You need to stop getting-”

“Couldja get me a cloth, Sixer?”  Stan interrupted grumpily.  “The blood from my nose is startin’ to itch.”

“I’ll be right back,” Ford said, resigned.  A few seconds later, the water over Stan’s hands was interrupted as Ford put a cloth under the stream to get it wet.  “Can you sit down and lean against the wall?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Stan answered.  “Leaning against a wall sounds good,” he said, and slowly shifted backwards so he was no longer kneeling but putting all his weight against the nice, solid, wall, allowing his muscles to relax.

“Here,” Ford said, pressing the now wet cloth into Stan’s hand.  Stan took it, but instead of using the cloth to start to clean up his face, he gingerly moved to put the cold rag at the nape of his neck, feeling himself relax a little more as the nausea all but disappeared.

“I’ll go get another rag,” Ford said, but this time sounded a little softer.  Stan heard him leave, come back, put the rag under the water, and shut the water off.  Then a cloth was once more pressed into Stan’s hands, and as Stan carefully brought it up to where he felt the blood begin to dry below his nose, he heard Ford sit down on the edge of the tub.  “What was this one about?” he asked, not in a condemning manner, but sincerely wanting to know.

Stan paused, then said, “I found the guy who started all those rumors about you.”

“Oh.” Ford said, and even in that one syllable Stan heard the devasting hurt that Ford had felt this whole past week.  He regretted bringing it up, but before he could say anything to change the subject, Ford said, “I thought you said I should just ignore them.”

Stan risked a smile, then winced.  “I said you should ignore them, Sixer.  I didn’t say I should.”

Ford snorted, then Stan heard him swallow.  “Stanley, I have to tell you, that left eye doesn’t look good,” Stan heard him stand up from the edge of the tub.  “Hang on.”

He once more left, and when he returned, Stan suddenly felt a shock of cold cover his left eye and yelped, causing everything to flare up in pain.  The cold thing dropped to his lap, and he heard Ford stumble backward.

“I’m sorry!” Ford said, mortified, then the cold thing was picked up off of Stan.  “It’s just frozen peas.”

“A little warning would be nice next time.” Stan grumbled, and he held out his hand for the peas, putting them over his left eye.

“Sorry,” Ford said again.  Then after a pause, said,  “Who was it?”

“Paul Cole,” Stan said, and removed the peas to finally open his eyes to give a wicked smile to his brother.  The vision in his left eye was a lot blurrier than he remembered, but he ignored it.  “He won’t be starting rumors about you again.”

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Ford asked in horrified fascination. 

“No you knucklehead,” Stan said, once more closing his eyes and applying the peas.  “But he knows what happens if he messes with you again.”

“You shouldn’t have to fight my battles, Stan.” Ford said.

Stan shrugged, causing him to wince.  “’Course I do.” he said.  “You mess with one of us, you mess with both of us.” He shifted against the wall, trying to get more comfortable.  “’Sides, you’d do the same for me.”

“You know I would.” Ford promised earnestly with steel in his voice, and Stan smiled.

The left eye would always take slightly longer to focus every time he woke up.

Cartagena, Colombia, mid 1970-something

Stan only got a few steps down the road after his release from that jail in Colombia when a car screeched to a stop in front of him, and four goons rushed out, instantly restraining each of his arms and putting a bag over his head.  After about an hour’s drive, Stan was pulled out of the car, marched somewhere inside, and shoved onto a hard chair before the hood was taken off of him.  “Thanks,” he said in English, the only petty thing he could think of doing.  The goons grunted and left, locking the door behind them.

Stan took in his surroundings and recognized them immediately.  The room had dark wood paneling, dark green carpet, and several rare paintings and rare antiquities on pedestals, some of which Stan recognized as items he himself had helped steal.  His chair was in front of a dark mahogany desk with a leather upholstered chair behind it, which was- for now- empty. Yes, Stan was in the office of Carlos Aguilar, one of the most powerful crime lords in the country- the man Stan had been working for during the heist that had put him in jail. 

He fought the panic rising in his throat by reminding himself there was no reason for Aguilar to think poorly of him- he never did anything wrong on his heists before, it wasn’t his fault the crew was caught during the last one, and he didn’t say a peep during his time in jail, not during the countless hours of interrogation by the authorities and not to any other men he was imprisoned with (a relatively easy feat after he convinced them all he didn’t speak Spanish).  He should be fine.  Aguilar probably just wanted to offer him another job, right?

A door to the side of the desk opened, and Aguilar walked into the room, followed by one of the bodyguards Stan only knew as “Lobo”.  Aguilar had a shark smile on his face, and Stan knew this was not a good sign.  Well, time to diffuse the situation with the ol’ Pines Charm.

“Hey, Mr. Aguilar, how’s it going?” he asked cheerfully in Spanish, standing up in respect.  “Long time no see, am I right?  You look great!  Did you start a new workout routine?”

“Shut up, Pino,” Aguilar said as sat down.

“No problem,” Stan gulped, still standing.

Aguilar looked up at Lobo, who, quick as a snake, suddenly hit Stan’s left kneecap with a baseball bat, causing Stan to yelp and collapse to the ground.  Despite the pain he somehow managed to have the sense to roll away, but another strike of the bat didn’t come.  He stayed on the ground, taking deep, quick breaths, determined not to show weakness in front of these very dangerous men.

“That is for your failure in the last heist, Pino,” Aguilar said from his desk.  Stan couldn’t see him, but he sounded bored.  “And I am aware the contributing elements of it going wrong were not your doing, but you still failed.” Stan heard him stand up and was soon looking up at the crime lord.  “Rest assured those at fault are no longer with us.  And it is only because of your loyalty during your incarceration that you are not joining them.”  He nodded at Stan, then walked back to his desk.  “Lobo,” he said, and suddenly Stan felt himself being roughly hauled up to his feet and dragged out of the room, gritting his teeth and biting his tongue to prevent another yell.

After his knee started working again, Stan went back to the Aguilar compound one last time to plant evidence of the man’s crimes, and stole a suitcase full of cash on his way out to pay for the plane back to the US.   He was done with Colombia, and the knee that twinged every time a storm was coming always reminded him to never go back.

Gravity Falls, Oregon, 1981

The brand from the burn that Stan got during his fight with Ford stung for weeks, just like Stan’s shock about what just happened.  It had been over 10 years since he saw his brother, only for their reunion to end in Ford disappearing through a transdimensional gateway that promptly stopped working, and all Stan could think about was getting him back.  Finally, after waking up in the cold basement room, disoriented from working for- he didn’t even know how many hours- straight, he realized he had better start handling getting Ford back in a little smarter way.

Stan never understood how he somehow managed to get back to the semblance of living a life after he lost his brother.  But day by day, even though the dark room in the basement always occupied a place in his mind, he found himself going outside, putting more creativity and fun into the newly christened Mystery Shack, and actually talking to people even when they weren’t paying him to.  He had started a poker group with Steve the town mechanic, checked out the Lodge of the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel, and began Phase One of flirting with one of the waitresses down at the Triple Digit Truck Stop just at the edge of town by asking to borrow money.  He almost felt like a normal person...

Until one day he caught his reflection in the mirror in the bathroom to see the brand on his back was no longer bright red, but beginning to fade.  The surprise made him also realize he hadn’t been downstairs to work on the portal in almost two weeks.

He barely had the foresight to put on clothes before he rushed out of the house down to the Skull Fracture bar in town.  He burst through the door, not even giving his eyes time to adjust before he breathlessly asked, “Which one of you knuckleheads does tattoos?”

The men in the bar looked at each other, then looked back at Stan.  One very large, very scary bald man in a leather vest and combat boots stood up and loomed over Stan. “You got money, knucklehead?”

Stan gulped.  “I’ll do ya one better.  You get one favor from me, no questions asked.”

The whole bar started laughing, but Stan didn’t budge, and the laughter slowly died down.  The bald man looked at Stan and raised an eyebrow.  “You got a car?”

~*~*~*~*

Stan nearly burst out laughing when the man mentioned pug smuggling, but one look at the bald man’s face told him it wasn’t a joke, and he managed to choke down and turn the laughter into a cough before he could offend the man.  He agreed to assist in the next shipment in a couple of days in exchange for a tattoo following the lines of the brand on his back.

“Buddy, you know if I do this, the scar ain’t gonna go away,” the tattoo artist said.  “It’s not gonna let the skin heal all the way-”

“That’s the point of a tattoo, isn’t it?” Stan asked tensely.  “So it lasts forever?”

“Guess so,” the tattoo artist said, and began to put on his gloves.  “Just so you know, it’s going to hurt.  A lot.”

“What doesn’t?” Stan asked, flashing the man a grin.  He deserved it for forgetting to work on the portal.  But with the brand permanently inked into his skin, he wouldn’t ever forget again. 

Gravity Falls, Oregon, 2012

Stan heard the cheers of Soos, Dipper, and Mabel as he flew through the air on the back of the pterodactyl. Pride bubbled up inside of him with the realization that he had made the right decision, as stupid as it was to put his life in danger to rescue a pig.

The pterodactyl began to gain altitude, which was the exact opposite direction Stan wanted to go.  He was mostly over his fear of heights thanks to Mabel and her crazy therapy a few weeks ago, but he needed to get back to the kids and get out of there.

The adrenaline from the speed and flight was making him giddy, and the admiration of his great niece and nephew made him want to do something really cool, like from the movies.  He clasped his hands together and held them above his head as if he were holding a sword, and thought of a really great line from one of his favorite gladiator movies to shout, and thought he had better edit the language for the kids, just in case...

The combination of less than 100% focus, an unexpected movement of the pig strapped to the front of his chest, and the bumpy turbulence of riding on a pterodactyl meant that the when Stan brought his fists down on the pterodactyl’s head and shouted “From heck’s heart I stab at thee!”, the angle of the blow was slightly off-

breaking Stan’s right pinky finger.

He didn’t notice until after he and the kids were safe at home and all of the adrenaline had worn off that his finger was hurting.  But truth be told, every inch of him hurt after the fight with the dinosaur, so he didn’t bother to splint it.  By the time it stopped hurting, it had healed crooked, and the pinky finger couldn’t straighten out with the others.

But every time he saw it he remembered the look on Mabel’s face when he landed from off the pterodactyl, holding her pet pig safely against his chest, and knew that a crooked finger was absolutely worth it.   

Somewhere in the Arctic Circle, sometime in the 2010s.

Stan roared with laughter, the sound matched by Ford as Dipper finished telling a crazy story over video call of a revenge prank that he and Mabel had pulled on the school bully.

“Kid!  I’m so proud of you!” Stan chuckled to his great nephew. 

“We’re so proud of you,” his brother corrected with a smile.  “That was indeed a brilliant way to prevent future interference from that degenerate.”

“See Dip, I told you we could tell them,” Mabel cut in.  “They’re our Funkles!”

“That’s right!” Stan laughed again.  Then he stopped abruptly and stared right at the camera, pointing a finger at them.  “But don’t get caught.”

Mabel scoffed.  “As if.”

“Good girl,” Stan grinned. 

“Stanley, I think we’ll soon have some competition for best Pines twins ever,” Ford said with a small smile on his face.

“Not a chance, Sixer,” Stan answered casually.

“Is that a challenge?” Dipper asked on the other end of the line.  “We’re going to see you guys in a few months; I’d get ready!”

Stan and Ford laughed together.  “Fat chance, kid!” Stan said.  “But still, we can’t wait to see you.”

“Be sure you’re still making time to study in between your pranks,” Ford cut in, and Stan rolled his eyes for comedic effect.

“No worries Grunkle Ford!” Mabel answered.  “We love you!”

“Love you!” Dipper echoed.

“Love you too,” Stan and Ford said at the same time, and they turned off the video call.

Stan took a deep breath of the cold salt air on the deck of The Stan O’War II, completely unable to keep the giant grin off of his face.

“They are really great kids, aren’t they?” Ford commented with his own smile. 

“Yeah,” Stan said.  “Just like us.”

Ford put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.  “Just like us.” he answered.  Then he started walking to the other side of the deck.  “Set up the deck chairs for some fishing- there’s supposed to be some excellent cod around here.”

“Bet you five bucks I make the first catch of the day,” Stan said with a wicked smile, and was met with the reflection in Ford’s face.

“Make it ten,” his brother said happily, and he went to go grab the fishing poles.

Stan took another deep breath and felt contentment, love, trust, worth, and safety.  And the hole that had been in his life for 40 years was now filled.

And his heart was completely healed.

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XVIII): Trial by Fire and Trust Falls

Mulder and Doggett finally become a team as the Galpex-Orpheus crew turns mutinous... and Mulder must decide what kind of father, and man, he will become in the wake of these events.

WHAT YOU GONNA DO WHEN IT ALL BURNS DOWN?

Racing into the radio room to find the place ablaze, Mulder freezes briefly, mouth open in fear, before Agent Doggett sweeps in and pulls at his arm. Both rush outside, looking around for something to stop the fire as they reemerge.

Doggett's gesture here is important: on the heels of Mulder's willingness to play ball, it introduces another layer of communication between them-- touch. Now established, Mulder-- a naturally physical person-- will extend his modus operandi to include Scully's new partner.

There's only one extinguisher on hand, prompting Agent Doggett's hunt-and-retrieve mission… which, in turn, hurries him right into the ambush of a very frightened, very paranoid Diego Garza. 

It’s a neat little role reversal: the replaced is now put in position to rescue the replacer-- payback for Doggett storming the DOD and helping the gang escape-- and the first of two x-files related cases where Mulder must save his rival-turned-damsel-in-distress. (All things considered, it’s rare that he's not only placed in the hero’s role, but successful at it.)

Mulder heads back into the control room, alone, giving the audience a clearer glimpse of his stress and repressed terror (as the script notes here.)

Puzzling over the saboteurs' obsession with this room, Mulder's spider senses suddenly kick on when Doggett doesn't reappear an undetermined amount of time later. Those suspicions-- and perhaps a growing awareness of his own lack of reciprocative communication-- are confirmed when the personal radios also go unanswered.

THE TRUTH, FATHERS, AND SONS

Doggett comes to in Diego's hideout, held back from escape at shivering knife point. Looking about the den for means of rapport, he notices a picture taped up to a wire mesh-- Diego's wife, son, and daughter.

It's no mere coincidence, either: Vienen seeks to unpack Mulder's priorities as Scully's due date approaches. We know he has thawed from his distancing (post here), and we know that he has fully accepted his role as the baby's father (posts here, here, here, and here.) But we also know he still jockeys for his right to the X-Files, and that he still believes "the truth" is out there.

However, that's the trick he keeps falling for: "the truth" will always be out there, will always tantalize with answers-- but one must never sacrifice their lives to chase it or they run the risk of looking back at the road not traveled with regret. Like Mulder, Bill Mulder had the same heart and thirst for the truth; but he never turned back, and "the truth" sucked him dry, snatching away his daughter, tearing apart his family, and destroying the man he once was (posts here and here)-- the ultimate price of dedication.

Diego's son and daughter look up at the camera in a mirror image of Mulder and Samantha's happy faces in Dreamland II-- a mirror image, perhaps, of the picture his son will take in the future if he, too, loses a father to "the truth."

Mulder must learn what Frank Spotnitz, The X-Files co-writer, once wisely stated: "You can't get the truth. You can't. There's a larger truth, though: that you can't harness the forces of the cosmos, but you may find somebody else. ...Love is the only truth we can hope to know, as human beings." That's what Mulder and Scully found after nine years. And that's a lot."

We shall see what he decides during Vienen's close.

Bartering his way into freedom, Doggett convinces Diego Garza to let him go… and walks into a second trap. 

The man from his and Mulder’s interrogation (post here) “finds” him, intent on locating Garza-- with purely altruistic motives, of course. Not able to hide his malintent completely, Bo attacks instead, gaining the upper hand and pinning John Doggett down by the throat.

Right before the infection is spread, Mulder materializes, pipe in hand; and beats Bo Taylor over the head--

one, two, three times--

--as Doggett watches on in shock.

(The below set is staggeringly easy to map onto the ideas David Duchovny had for exploring his character's abduction and torture: what ferocity did Mulder's nature resort to-- ineffectively-- in the slim hopes of beating off another round of tests? Not ferocious enough to lose touch with his humanity, as we're shown; but if that be the case, his measures were probably largely ineffectual.)

Doggett is paralyzed at the sudden influx and immediate recession of chaos; but snaps out of it with Mulder’s helping hand and wheezy, no-nonsense, “Get up, Agent Doggett-- there’s more where that came from." 

Here, then, is the first time Mulder reaches out to Doggett. Empedocles marked his initial efforts of grace and emotional honesty (post here); however, he withdrew those efforts in the beginning of Vienen, stung by perceived rejection (post here.) But the oil rig's forced containment and the other man's up-front, straightforward overtures of respect and honesty have convinced him wholly. (So wholly, in fact, that John Doggett becomes his only hope for the files after he resigns.)

Mulder guides him out this time-- a quick gesture of familiarity.

A few important things to discuss:

This is possibly the second time in canon we’ve seen such blunt, personal, intent-to-kill brutality from Mulder. The first was Duane Barry, whom he let go when rage switched to realization. Here, he beats a man over the head, one-two-three-- totally focused; and rolls off the incident immediately to escape with Doggett. Why?

We’ve seen Mulder completely disregard evil or supernatural entities without remorse. He’s even killed a few monsters in his day-- the Flukeman, for example. This, then, points to his unspoken perspective: to him, Bo Taylor was no longer a man, merely an inhuman vessel for the Oil.

And that presents us with something interesting: the ruthless lengths that Mulder will go to protect himself or others from these creatures is concurrent with his current mental stability. Remorse and pity, empathy and second chances are unique to his nature-- he can’t hold onto vengeance for long. But creatures who offer no pity, who feel nothing other than the desire to hollow out other humanity for an alien purpose, surface the darker aspects of his traits.

Further, this incident reveals how on-edge Mulder still is after his abduction: he may be suppressing his PTSD, he may even be in therapy to treat it, but finding himself trapped in quarantine with alien technology has him on savage pins and needles. He doesn’t just beat the man once, doesn’t just hit him twice, just in case-- he batters him thrice without flinching. 

I wonder what could have been showcased during Mulder’s captivity-- what psychological depths the character would have had to plunder in order to remain mentally intact. Since that was not to be, we are left with mere glimpses to intuit his present state: a tendency towards avoidance that erupts into agitated bursts of violence in the name of self-preservation. 

Lastly, one can draw a parallel between Mulder and his father here, as well: in Travelers, we're shown that Bill wants to expose the Consortium's secrets but is too afraid to buck the system outright. When he solicits Arthur Dales's curiosity, Dales is put in danger and nearly fed to a monster while Bill cows under the gaze of his supervisor. His son, however, will rip apart any power structure or hunt down any predator, no matter the costs to his reputation. Mulder's instincts, therefore, are more self-sacrificing and altruistic than his father's-- one who will act as well as react.

Disturbed, Doggett gazes back at the body for a second longer before following Mulder’s exiting steps. 

The men sprinting back to the radio room; and Mulder hurriedly locks the door while plainly suggesting, “You know anything about radio, Agent Doggett?”

“Yeah, I know a little.” 

“Let’s see what little you know and get that ship-to-shore working.” 

Confused but catching up, Doggett asks, “Call who?” 

“Anybody who can get us off here--”

Heavy bangs and thuds knock against the door-- monsters determined to get in. 

“Get to work!” Mulder snarls, aggressive with panic.

Grabbing a long, metal rod, he prepares for the invading forces, slipping naturally into a practiced baseball stance-- one more life lesson he learned from his father and the aliens; one more little touch of humanity he might not be able to pass onto his own child.

GOING DOWN SWINGING

Night falls, and the men are still banging down the door. 

Maneuvering the last of the heavy furniture as a barricade, Mulder shouts, “Agent Doggett!” over his shoulder. 

“I’m working on it!”

“I don’t think this door is going to hold much longer!” His litany is interrupted by an unexpected burst of music; and he angrily turns around to yell, “Wagner?” above the chaos. 

Raising his hands, Doggett says, “What do you want?” 

An idea rupturing forth, Mulder dashes close, excited. “I take it back, it’s perfect.” 

“Hold this--” the other man warns, handing over a wire as he slowly traces another line to find the microphone. 

The two are shoulder-to-shoulder, heads bent above this shared piece of salvation-- finally, a nearly functioning team-- as they hope against hope their transmission will get through. And this time, Mulder doesn't lock eyes with Doggett over the phone (post here.)

Fortunately for them, Scully picks up the transfer. “Agent Doggett?”

“Agent Scully,” Doggett tries to assure, “yeah, I’m right here.”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes!” Mulder yells as the bangs get louder and louder. 

“What was that?” she asks, hand to her other ear as the noises filter through the receiver. 

“That’s someone knocking on the door--” Mulder hollers, running back to bolster his barricade. 

“Mulder, listen to me--” Scully begins, unaware that her lecture is not only untimely but also fruitless; unaware that her two partners are hanging by a thread from death, and that the one she is addressing is already across the room. Despite everything, her first partner turns, a smile of stress and intimacy swiping upward. “--I think I know why they killed this man, if not how they killed him.” 

“Right now we got bigger problems,” Doggett insists. “We need a chopper.”   

“We’ve got choppers on the way,” Scully assures, nodding-- and aren’t they lucky to have her thinking alongside them, preparing one step ahead in case everything goes wrong? 

Shoved up against the furniture, Mulder hollers out instructions. “Tell her all the men are infected-- she’s got to get word to the choppers not to land on the platform!” 

“Well, how they supposed to get us?” the other man points out, worry beginning to wear down his stoic mask. 

A hinge cracks through as glass breaks-- the door is giving, and fast. 

“Well that issue--” Mulder screams, “--is rapidly becoming moot!” 

Agent Doggett hops back on the radio, doing his best to relay over the static-- and is rudely and abruptly interrupted by Agent Mulder, weapon in hand, knocking the radio box aside, stealthily and without warning. “What are you doing?” he exclaims as the other man continues to kick the box to death. 

“Destroying their ability to transmit-- just like Diego and Simon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about contact.”  

“Contact with who? The Mothership?” Doggett chides, eyeing Mulder with keyed-up concern-- Bo Taylor's odd behavior and Mulder's beat-down not far from his thoughts.

Mulder pauses, noticing the abrupt quiet; and places a hand on the other man’s chest (yet another comfortable gesture of familiarity.) “Agent Doggett, listen--”

“No, you just back off.”

“No, no, no. Listen,” he repeats, ignoring the other’s arm swipe, head turned as his body tilts towards the door. 

Complete silence. 

Mulder immediately undoes the latch and peeks through, fellow agent right behind. Advancing into the hallway, he answers Doggett’s “Where’d they go?” with a mumbling, leery, “I don’t know, and I don’t want to stick around to find out. Let’s go, Agent Doggett.” 

He’s on the move, leaping up the nearest ladder when his teammate bolts past-- “I can’t leave him-- Diego Garza”-- without waiting for him to follow. 

“Agent Doggett!” Mulder bellows, stress and fear and concern writ large as he doubles back. 

Reaching Doggett, he finds the man slumped over Garza’s body; and calls out, "Is he coming?" When the other agent straightens, Mulder looks past him and recognizes the posture of death-- but waits, eyes locked on his new friend in concern.

"No," is the reply. Mulder nods understandingly. Man down.

The moment, like many others, must be shoved aside: the choppers’ rotors whirl overhead-- they must keep going. He grabs Doggett's arm and propels them back into the bowels of the rig, taking one last look at the body behind. 

“Agent Doggett, I think I know why they let us go,” he concludes, catching up and passing Doggett with ease while puffing out a theory. (Note: another touch as he flies by.)

“What? Agent Mulder, what are you talking about-- what’s going on?”

Pipes begin to give way, bending and bursting in puffs of heady steam. 

“They’re going to blow the rig!”

“Who?”

Mulder nods at the men appearing from the shadows-- a mixture of "of course" and "right on time" and "do you understand now?"-- before Doggett grabs his attention elsewhere. 

Leading the charge down another hallway, he almost runs straight into a plume of orange fire; and Mulder, forced to follow the other agent back the way they came, presses as close as possible, escaping the vicinity as fast as he can. 

Now covered in oil and fleeing firebombs, both plunge through the wreck, halted here and there by various Black Oiled men blocking their paths before being consumed by the falling rubble and flames. The same pattern holds true: Doggett begins in the lead, Mulder swiftly catches up, Doggett lets him pass without a word, and Mulder brushes his arm as he slides by-- silent acknowledgment of each other's capabilities and sacrifices.

When they scramble to an opening, a helicopter floats down nearby, directing them to dive into the night sea for a (hopefully) safe recovery. 

"What's he saying?" Agent Doggett asks, relying on Mulder this time.

Making out the pilot's hand motions-- in the dark, yards away (that's good eye sight)-- he replies, "I guess he wants us to jump!"

Former soldier Doggett takes this as a matter of course. As the choppers scoot off, he rapidly channels his adrenaline into action, directing, “Now wait a minute, Agent Mulder-- I’m in charge here. On a two count.”

Mulder looks over, baffled at the other man's teasing bravado. Eyebrows scrunched and mouth parted in fear, he's too anxious to feel humored; but tries to quip past these concerns with a wry, “How about a twenty count?” 

Exchanging another glance in commiserative silence, the new X-Files agent pops off, “One… TWO!”, and leads the charge.

Both men barely escape the last series of all-consuming blasts from the floor above--

-- but the horror of being that close while no longer on solid footing sets Mulder off, and he screams all the way down to the gulf below.

They are, we must assume, rescued by the flying machinery taking off into the night. 

CONCLUSION

The last part of Vienen is the trickiest: Mulder's resignation. We shall see what he decides, next time.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[trevengersprincess]

ℛ𝓊𝓁ℯ𝓇 ℴ𝒻 ℳ𝓎 ℋℯ𝒶𝓇𝓉

c.w: f!reader, obsession, dc, mention of kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome

a/n: heyyy I hope you enjoy this. I just...the song 'Ruler of My Heart' made me think of this. y'all should watch Alien Stage if you haven't. it's so good. the fic 'My Clematis' is based off one of the songs from Alien Stage. it will make sense when you read it after listening to the song. anyway, like I said, I hope you enjoy :))

w.c: ~ 1.2K

You should’ve never stayed. You should’ve left when you had the chance. But you did, and in the end? He managed to find you, knock you unconscious and take you to a place where no one could find you. How did you end up here? Tied up to a chair, a piece of duct tape covering your mouth, feet chained to the ground. How did this all happen? You went on one date and rejected him, thinking you two wouldn’t work out together because of your differences. And his reaction to the rejection? Take you and make you his. Make you understand that you belong to him and only him. Make you understand that you need him more than you know. The tears ran down your face, scared and confused out of your mind. He sat in front of you, stoic and not saying a thing as you thrashed around. Finally, you calm down, the tears stop streaming down your face as you look at him.

"Done with your little tantrum princess?" He asked, a cruel smirk on his lips. You don't say anything, not that you could anyway. The piece of tape was still on your lips. He stalked his way over to you gently caressing your cheek as he looked down at you.

"I'm gonna take the tape off, okay? Be a good girl for me and don't fight." He cooed and again, you didn't say anything. Even for a man who looked as cruel as he did, he gently took off the tape, afraid to hurt your precious skin. Once it was off, you didn't move still and he stepped back. "Much better."

"Let me go, please. We already talked about this. We just aren't good together." You say trying to reason with him to let you go. But all he did was stare at you. He turns away, walking out of the room leaving you as you screamed at him. No matter what, your screams were never heard and your face was everywhere on the news. Your family looked everywhere for you. Wanting you safe and at home but they couldn't find a lead on you. But why was he so hung up on you? What made you so special that he just had to kidnap you and make you his?

He went up to a secret room of his home, unlocking the door and flicking the lights on. On the walls, pictures of every angle of you, not a single photo missed your beauty. The room was full of photos of you, even ones from inside your apartment. He used to be the one that sent you mysterious gifts to your workplace and you never thought much of it. Taking the plushies and other items into your home where he had his hidden cameras. He had been watching you since you were teens, the day after you helped him. It was a day he would never forgot. You were the only girl to not be afraid of him and that moment, you had captured his heart. He was determined to make you his.

His cameras were now on you, in his basement as you screamed and cried. Still tied to the chair thrashing around until the chair fell onto its side. You had fallen asleep from exhaustion and he just watched you sleep. Taking a photo from the wall, one of his favorites, and smiling at it. He kissed the photo before tracing over your face.

"You'll be mine, don't worry. I'll make sure of it." He placed the picture back onto his wall as he sighed and leaned back into his chair. He looked up, photos covering the ceiling. Of course they were much bigger so he could see them, and they were of your most intimate moments. Your lewd faces scattered across his ceiling had his pants feeling tight. But he needed to focus on how to make you his. 

The next day he checked on you, seeing you on your side from the chair falling over and asleep. He crouched next to you, caressing your cheek as you slowly stirred awake. He smiled genuinely at you as you glared at him.

"Let me go." You spat and he chuckled.

"Oh princess. We've got a long life ahead of us. Just give into me. Make me your god. I can give you everything that no one else can! No one will love you as much as I do. Make me, the ruler of your heart and you'll be the ruler of mine." He said, words sounding so convincing but you couldn't let yourself. He was dangerous and cruel. He doesn't know what love is. Right?

Slowly, he got you to trust him, and he could trust you. It had been years since your disappearance and your case with the police grew cold, resulting in closing it. They claimed you as still missing but dead. Your death was never finalized as your parents didn't want to believe it. And it was true, you weren't dead. You were simply with him, living in his home like it was your own. As you truly understood him, you fell for him. How could you not when he treated you like a queen? He cherished you, loved you, praised you. He knew everything about you. It was hard not to fall for him. He just...He was the one for you.

How did this all happen? How could you have fallen in love with your kidnapper? Any sane person would've taken the chance to escape once they earned that trust. But you?

"Go ahead. You want to leave, right? Go back home, reunite your family again? I won't stop you. The door is open for you. These past years were amazing with you, Y/N. I truly mean it when I say that I am madly in love with you. But if you really want to leave just how you begged me all those years ago, you can walk out that door. We can pretend none of this happened. You can even report me to the police if you want to." He said, voice slightly cracking in his words. 

What provoked this? The TV. You two watched a family reuniting on the screen and your small sigh seemed to have triggered him. Slowly, you walked towards the door. He didn't move from his spot, standing right where he was. His back was now facing you as you stood right at the door. Shutting it, tears fell down his cheeks. He thought you left and he was breaking down. He really did love you, but he loved you enough to stop this torture of keeping you locked away. He loved you enough to give your freedom back. A pair of gentle, soft hands cradled his face and he slowly opened his eyes, seeing you still there. Tears in your eyes from the words he said.

"I want to stay here with you. I don't want to be with that family. I want to be with you, with this family." You said as you hugged him tightly. Your words struck him, a deep blush crossing his cheeks, hearts practically in his eyes as he hugged you back tightly. When he pulled away from the hug, your cheeks were just as flushed and your eyes were the same. You both loved each other deeply, even if other people would see it as sick and twisted on how you two came together. But neither of you cared.

"I love you, Y/N L/N." He said.

"I love you, Haruchiyo Sanzu."

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @eroticdarling @nyxe9206 @yourefavsakura

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[mordredhnoc-rp]

Marrow here again, not with research this time.

I hate to interfere, but out of curiosity-

What if someone could prove that the Hanged Man's words held merit? If someone had evidence, from this chunk of time or otherwise, that his prophecies were true? Would you listen then?

What would it take?

I--

...don't know. It just wouldn't make any sense.

I saw their remains. They were all dead, killed by ghouls. It wouldn't make any sense, 'cause what kinda person can just inact that kinda senseless violence but a heartless monster? What would the point be?

I don't know what would make me believe the Hanged Man.

[chimmaddie]

you ever think about how bobby probably resented his mother and brother for leaving? like not even consciously but i think there was this underlying feeling that left a divide. like bobby knew his dad was suffering. he said "he needs me." and he adored him. he was too young to be able to see that it didnt justify taking that suffering out on his family but that was bobbys hero... and then his mother and brother left and bobby couldnt save his dad from himself. and he knew just one sure way to deal with that suffering. so even when his mother came and got him, he couldnt just fall into her arms. in part because he blamed himself. he couldnt reach for that comfort. he hadnt saved him. but she had left.

[cosycafune]

THE KING WANTS AN HEIR! SO, GIVE HIM ONE.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

the king is an insatiable man, whose sexual urges know no bounds when it comes to you. however, seeing you naively interact with another family, who’s sheltering a baby, stirs primal urges within him. naturally, he wants to stuff you until you’re broken, pregnant and heavily swollen with his precious baby. after all, the king needs an heir. 5.7k words.

jjk men. acts: unprotected sex, double penetration, rough sex, gentle sex, breeding kink, corruption kink, missionary, excessive creampies, mating press, riding, angry sex, fingering, back shots, spanking, an arranged marriage, sukuna being hungry, sex in front of a mirror, and potentially other acts. masterlist.

jjk men: satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, kento nanami, suguru geto, choso kamo and sukuna. a/n: to that one miserable anon, enjoy. happy three months to this blog. art by sakimenz on patreon.

satoru gojo

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

Cornered, pinned beneath Satoru, you gasp. No escape lingered as his knee grinds against your sensitive clit, increasing the embarrassing slickness within your underwear. The look within Satoru’s eyes screamed urgency, longing, need and to obliterate you to satisfy his salacious appetite completely.

“S-Sato’, what is it?” Meekly, flaunting naivety, you question Satoru while battering your lashes – caged by his intent.

Questioned your king, knowing his lustful eyes hold unshakable authority, you obediently succumbed to Satoru’s intimidating gaze.

“I want a royal heir. Now,” Urgently speaking, Satoru furrows his brows – picking at the ends of your regal dress.

“Use me, my king,” At Satoru’s disposal, you pour your deepest desire out – your doe eyes glimmering with the art of corruption.

“As you wish, my Queen,” Toned with smugness, Satoru responds to your submissiveness – increasingly aroused by your naivety.

To think you’d have him take you so quickly, giving him unlimited access to you.

“Show me how much you want that heir, my love,” Intrigued, sculpted by his whims of degradation, Satoru greedily commands you – unsatisfied by the lack of contact.

“A-Ah! Y-Yes, my king,” Steered by Satoru’s knee obliterating your arousal-webbed clit, you subconsciously blurt out your desires – shelving your queen-like traits.

Right now, you’re a beautiful worshipper for him.

“When we’re done, I will get you pregnant,” Devoted, Satoru’s eyes and statement warn you – gifting you a chance to back out before he grows crazed.

“P-Please! N-need to be swollen with your baby, so everyone can… see I’m yours,” Ego-less, you spout out your heart – compelled by Satoru’s knee driving into your sensitive cunt.

“Hm, to see if you can handle it, let me stuff you with my fingers,” Sadistically grinning, Satoru deviously mutters in your ear – biting the curve of your sensitive ear.

“Ngh! I’ll handle it,” Pleading with Satoru, you instantly shudder at his plump lips brushing against your ear – his troubled breaths staining your hearing.

“Be as loud as you want, no one will bother the Queen and King,” Chalant, Satoru gruffly informs you – quelling his deepest urge to tear you apart and stuff you so indecently.

Unfit against the thought of teasing you, Satoru gathers you in his arms – quickness tinting his skilled muscles. Nothing in him could resist your pouty, adrenaline-stricken state. It wasn’t every moment where his satiable queen would remain before him, her regal dress being stained with an intimate scandal – propped up for his greedy sexual urges. All Satoru dreams of is stuffing you beyond comprehension, drowning you out with his cum and riddling you dumb, helpless and dependent.

“D-Don’t hold back, Sato’,” Naively mumbling something provoking, your heart seizes at Satoru’s beast-like gaze falling on you – predatory.

“I’m fine with that, but don’t act as if I’ll show you mercy,” Licking his lips, Satoru grows prideful at his deep tone vibrating against your cuddled self – promoting your power difference.

“Show me that,” Controlled by your taunting, Satoru quickly rushes you towards your tempting bed – shoving you beneath his large, burly frame.

“Ah, be careful what you wish for,” Humming through his lustful speech, Satoru instinctively grabs your exposed underwear – tearing it apart in a hurry quicker than the human eye.

“You beast,” Taunting Satoru with trembling anticipation, you puff out your cheeks – delirious at your bare, slick cunt exposed to the world.

“I’ll show you one, my love,” Buzzing, Satoru pours his lips against your soppy cunt – stuffing his tongue between your writhing folds.

Throwing your head back instinctively, Satoru loudly begins to ravish you – his ample fingers prodding against your screaming cunt. If Satoru buries his celestial fingers inside your cunt, he knew he’d have finally conquered you – as your sanity flitted each time his fingers invaded your cunt. To him, that’s checkmate – prompting his beautiful breeding kink. Seeing you so submissive would alter him, triggering his attempts to leave you pregnant and reliant on him.

Captured by Satoru’s fingers hungrily flooding your cunt, you arch your back – tainted and clouded by Satoru’s invasive presence. Bandaged with every element of him, you pant recklessly. Your cognitive functions are puppets for Satoru’s show, leaving him ruling over your pleasure-stricken body – tearing apart your dress and leaving you nude before you could notice.

A starved fiend, that’s what he is.

“I just want to fuck you,” Hungrily slurping up your obedient cunt, Satoru mumbles – pussy struck whilst he thrusts his thick fingers into your begging cunt.

“Ah! Yes!” Embarrassingly near to cumming, decorated with warmth, you scream without a care in the world – unable to handle Satoru’s fingers and warm tongue ramming against you.

“Taste…so good,” Rutting his erection against your wealthy blankets, Satoru hungrily samples every aspect of you – voicing his love for your cunt.

“‘M gonna,” Warm, extremely dizzy, you glance down at Satoru – arching at his fingers pulverising your gushing walls.

“Quicker you do…quicker I get to put a baby in you,” Satisfied, purring through his sloppy speech, Satoru casts himself into picking up his pace – thrusting his fingers the deepest he could.

“Ngh! Y-Yes!” Conducted by your release, you pant vigorously – unable to control your beast-like breathing at finishing so roughly.

All you could sense was Satoru’s smug expression.

“Now, it’s my turn,” Bombarded with thrill, Satoru casts himself into uttering — using an ounce of his cursed technique to shed his clothes with urgency.

“Desperation has… never looked this good on you,” Grinning, you murmur to Satoru with fatigue — unable to counter the anticipation that lingers.

Unwilling to throw away a second, Satoru cast himself into grasping his cock — running his thick tip against your soppy cunt. Angelicness tints his deceitful features, leaving him a mess — his ears warming at being so close to you. So close to ruining you, moments away from stuffing you with a child — through his fruitful seed.

“‘Need ya,” Hazy, Satoru breathily whimpers — casting himself into rutting his thick cock into your awaiting cunt.

“Hgh!” Crying out, your eyes frantically roll back — consumed by Satoru’s monstrous cock breaking into you.

Gasping, unable to control your array of moans, you grip Satoru’s hand — attempting to control your movements. Being pinned beneath Satoru’s body of an enclosure, you grunt, whimper and howl towards his large cock splitting apart your cunt. 

“F-Fuck! ‘Missed this,” Vanquished by sexual relief, Satoru moans out his sentence — needily shoving more of his cock into you.

“S-Sato’!” Reigned by the king, you’re suffocated by Satoru’s warmth, his essence, his fat cock and his overbearing lust.

“You’re…begging, at this point,” Fruitfully stuffing you, Satoru makes room to taunt you — gleeful at your physique crumbling before his cock.

“Y-Yeah,” Mentally out of it, you cloudily respond to Satoru — being pounded by his relentless cock.

Naturally, Satoru’s a relentless conqueror.

“My…precious, wife,” Fittingly, Satoru picks up his relentless pace — fulfillingly finishing inside of you without an ounce of shame.

“S-So…soon?” Slightly confused, you question Satoru — only to be knocked out of it by his thick cock pulverising you entirely again.

“H-Hard holding back,” Panting vigorously, Satoru lovingly glances down at you — kissing your pillowy lips.

“We have all night, don’t stop,” Encouraging Satoru, you hazily encourage him — trembling at the intensity of his cumshot.

“Of course, I’m not done,” Vouching that he’d ruin you, Satoru beautifully informs you.

toji fushiguro

«───── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ───»

Accompany Toji by his throne, on your knees before him, you glance up at him. Naively, you flaunt your doe eyes — mystique and intrigue tinting you. Usually, Toji would never command you to situate yourself before him — nude, degraded and a royal shell of yourself. 

“Is there a reason why we’re both naked, angrily staring at each other?” Questioning your husband,  staring up at his large cock, you settle it between your pliant fingers.

“Because you haven’t given me a damn baby yet,” Furrowing his brows, Toji roughly proclaims his thoughts — gritting his teeth at your hold movement.

“That’s why you were so angry when you saw that family?” Playfully taunting Toji, you plant yourself into circling his pre-cum coated tip — intrigued by his fruitful emotions.

“Yeah, since I’m tryna have everyone see you pregnant and just mine,” Grunting pensively, Toji trembles at your thumb harshly pressing against his thick tip.

“That’s why you told me to strip and meet you in the throne room?” Innocently asking Toji, you flaunt your doe eyes — admiring his twitching cock.

“Why else? So we could dance or whatever?” Angered by your false naivety, Toji snaps back at you — only for his eyes to flutter at each sway of your thumb.

“I’ll dance on your cock, if that’s what makes the kingdom’s moody king happy,” Scoffing, you teasingly respond to Toji — hovering your warm lips before his cockhead.

“First, you’ll show me that you deserve that baby,” Raising your brow at Toji’s demand, you prettily grin, “Then, I’ll stuff you until the kingdom has a damn heir.” Enchanted by Toji’s skilled determination, you admire his vexed expression — along with his rising mouth scar.

“I’ll ruin you, King Fushiguro,” Regally threatening Toji, you allow your lips to linger above Toji’s tip — your warm breaths frustrating him.

“Hurry, then,” Increasing his attention towards you, Toji applies his cursed speech within your ear — eagerly clinging to the throne.

“My, my, my king’s so impatient,” Confidently speaking, you teasingly kiss Toji’s massive cock-head — observing him puddle before you.

“Fuck, woman,” Defeated by your celestial lips, Toji mutters subconsciously — intensely watching you softly lick his tip.

“Hmm, look how desperate you are,” Grinning through your words, you finally cave into Toji — smushing your lips around Toji’s reddened tip.

“C’mon,” Impatiently pushing you, Toji grits his teeth at your insufferable teasing — annoyed at you depriving him of pleasure.

“Patience, my dear,” Resisting the urge to rub your dripping cunt, you shakily mutter to Toji — focusing on him.

Gently, you begin to pour Toji’s veiny cock into your mouth — pushing your head down to accommodate him. Filling your thin cheeks with Toji’s cock, you begin to constantly suck — using your soft hands to stroke his left-over length.

“S-So…good,” Submitting to your intoxicating warmth, Toji blurts out his heart — his fingers itching to throat-fuck a skilled you.

“D-Don’t cum,” Warning Toji, you cast yourself into bobbing your head recklessly — entertained by Toji writhing beneath you.

You always sucked him so good.

“C-Can’t…promise,” Quivering beneath you, Toji gasps at you vulgarly engulfing him — completely stealing his you-tainted soul.

“‘Need it…inside,” Messily speaking, you watch Toji’s flustering eyes — controlled by his fingers gripping onto your prepped curls.

“Give…you… all of it,” Unable to think straight, Toji lazily responds to you — bucking his hips into your mouth without any regard.

“Y-You’re…twitching,” Ruined by Toji inhumanely slamming his hips into your mouth, you plead for air — teary and destroyed by his subconscious pace.

“G-Gonna—”

“N-No,” Pulling your mouth back, you bluntly answer Toji — getting up from your knees and facing him.

Observing an enraged Toji, you cast yourself into wickedly grinning. Grinning before you straddle him on his throne, carrying not an ounce of shame. Shame towards his tension-build self, unwilling to shed the cocky facade you exhibit.

“Don’t act so mad, you want a baby,” Teasing Toji, you accustom yourself into openly taunting him — rutting your hips against his sensitive cock-head.

“I’m taking… control,” Panting recklessly, Toji narrows his eyes while he asserts dominance — grabbing his intimidating cock.

“Don’t make me regret it,” Instantly regretting your words, you cry out as Toji aligns himself — mercilessly sinking you onto his hefty cock.

“O-Oh!” Meeting Toji’s eyes, you naively moan — your eyes painfully rolling back at him filling out your stomach.

“‘M not getting…blue balls,” Satisfied, Toji thrusts so deeply within you — unwilling to give you time to recover from plunging on him.

As petty reparations, Toji manhandles you — grasping your ass cheeks and forcing you to take more. Take more before he pounds into you cruelly, throwing his head back at your strained moans and surrendered state.

Expanding his sadistic tendencies, Toji grins at his cock throbbing effortlessly — taunting your sensitive cunt further. It doesn’t help that you’re foolishly close to reaching your breaking point, never being one who’s capable of handling riding him. However, Toji grows uncaring — kissing against your cervix before he swarms your gummy walls with his bucket-loads of cum.

“Ah!” Yelping at Toji’s hurricane-like cumming, you almost collapse against him — only for him to cloudily chuckle at this revolutionary moment.

“Think…I’d go easy on you?” Barely able to question you, Toji’s enveloped by you tightening around him — embarrassingly cumming from him finishing too hard inside of you.

“N-No…don’t stop,” Engulfed by Toji’s essence, you plead for him to not stop, “We have all day, fill me up as long as you like.” Mentally finished, you continue to mewl and release lewd sounds — contained by Toji filling up your abdomen.

“Hmm, we’re gonna have a baby,” Hazily glancing at you, Toji lowly speaks — granting you a strained kiss.

—

kento nanami

«── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ───»

Situated in the kitchen with Kento, you tremble at him pressing against you — pretending to grab an ingredient for you. Lately, Kento had grown increasingly needy — yearning for you around ovulation. This increasing urge haunted you, leaving you his manhandled rag doll. You were always moments away from being folded into a mating press and drilled by him, no matter where.

“Kento, you’re awfully needy,” Calming down your nerves, you chuckle with your speech — accidentally dropping your knife for apple pie.

“I can just…smell that you’re ovulating,” At Kento’s flustered truth, you gasp at his erection prodding against your bubble butt.

“And what?” Bending down to grab your knife, you counter Kento — smearing your cunt against his erection.

“F-Fuck, that…means I’m ready to fulfil our chances of having an heir,” Grunting, Kento trembles while he speaks.

A mess, Kento caresses your bubble butt — gently humping your bent-over state. Absolutely nothing, but your consent, could pull Kento away from your arched self. Fuck, Kento knew you were tempting him — smashing against his erection to provoke him. To push the king into ruining you in the royal kitchen, close to ruining your regal reputation.

“If you can eat me out from behind, I’ll let you fold me in a mating press,” Before you could finish your sentence, Kento already tore your day's attire and underwear.

He’d have to buy you a new pair.

“You damn beast,” Taunting Kento, you attempt to quell your prominent submission — steadying yourself against the marble counter.

“J-Just can’t resist… your sweet smell,” Unable to contain his inner savagery, Kento lightly mutters — hypnotised by your soppy cunt.

“C-Careful, anyone can walk by and in, Kento,” Rather panicky, you tremble towards Kento’s greedy tongue slotting between your folds.

“I’m the king and you’re the queen, I don’t care,” Kento proclaims, arching you further. Comfortably on his knees, Kento drinks up your squelchy cunt — lapping up your strings of arousal.

Whining, erect, Kento’s expression strains at being unable to relish you properly. Therefore, he provokes you — shoving his gluttonous face between your thighs. Even as your legs grow unsteady, Kento uses a large hand of his to keep you upward — facing the royal window and pretending to be calm as people walk by.

Kento could sense they knew something was up.

“Hgh! r-ruin…me,” Fixating on your words, Kento roughens his tongue's pace — burying his fingers into your gentle ass. As if he would go easy on you, especially with your ovulation.

“You don’t have… to ask me twice,” Smitten, Kento eagerly responds to you — content at you growing seconds away from finishing.

“D-Don’t know…if I can! Ahhh!” Crying out, you vigorously cum against Kento’s tongue — overwhelmed and drawn out by the entirety of him.

“Hmm, so sensitive,” Content, Kento comments on your current condition — happily lowering your vulnerable physique to the ground.

“T-Take me, Ken’,” Surrendering to Kento, you lovingly speak — fatigued at his intense eating.

“Of course,” Licking his lips, Kento answers — swiftly disregarding the bottom half of his clothing.

“Can’t believe…we’re gonna fuck on the kitchen floor,” Content, you voice your spirit to Kento. Intrigued, you peek at Kento — quickly releasing his thick cock.

Shifting before you, Kento casts himself into grounding his knees upon the kitchen floor — positioning himself above you. Enthralled by your cunt, Kento casts himself into preparing his mating press — smearing his tip against your fluttering cunt.

“Need all of you now,” Commanding, Kento rubs his cock against your folds — only to plunge into your cunt with ease.

“Ohhh!” A moaning mess, you’re silenced by Kento’s hand covering your mouth — gifting you not an ounce of time to adjust.

“Mhmm, I’ve missed that,” Feral, Kento’s cock frantically twitches — causing him to slap his hips against yours. He fills you with his cock, so deeply within you.

Controlled by your ovulation, Kento presses his cock deeply inside of you — swearing that your sweet cunt is a bottomless well. Heated, frantic and a stupid mess, Kento beautifully folds you — suffocating you with his large cock kissing against your pressured walls. Walls that accommodate him, but choke at the scary pace Kento inflicts.

Kento’s hungry and insatiable.

Thrusting at a might that captures you both, Kento groans roughly — hitting a point within you that makes both of you cum. Cum in a way that doesn’t stop him, leaving him pounding until he gets his royal heir. There’s no way he would stop, even with the two of you against the kitchen floor — so close to being stopped and caught.

The king and queen, huh?

__

suguru geto

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

Surrendering to a possessive Suguru, you allow him to toy with your rosy lingerie. Monitoring him, you raise a brow — noticing the angry cloud that contains him. Usually, Suguru’s a content king. Yet, something about seeing you holding another man’s child stirred jealousy in him.

“Suguru, what’s wrong?” Confused, you question your husband — puddling at his fingers gripping your ass.

“I want a baby, but you’re too busy holding random royal’s babies,” Furrowing his brows, Suguru answers you — spanking your ass gently.

It’s obvious that he wanted to go harder. He’s angry.

“Fuck! S-So tell me what you want, Sugu’?,” Caving into Suguru’s spanking, you utter — arching at his harsh slap.

All you can hear is your ass recoiling.

“I want to fill you up with my cum, until you’re pregnant.” Comforted by your listening, Suguru voices his desires — playing with your doe eyes.

“S-Sugu’,” As you try to find the right words, Suguru holds you extremely close — his head resting against your plump breasts.

“I’d do anything to see you so full, pregnant and mine,” Trembling at the thought of filling you efficiently, Suguru harshly blabbers — gripping onto you with no intentions of freeing you.

“I’ll let you, Sugu’,” Softly speaking, you gently push your underwear to the side — noticing the mirror at your side.

“Hm, but I’ve got to prep you first,” Riddled with tension, Suguru informs you — bringing his fingers to circle your tender clit.

“Be rough because… I know you’re angry,” Mocking Suguru’s enraged state, you gasp at him pulling you into his lap — toying with your pierced clit.

“Don’t provoke me,” Suguru alerts you, prodding his fingers against your cunt — passionately kissing your parted lips.

“If I let you, King Geto, we could… have had a newborn by now—” Hazed by Suguru’s clit swirling, you lazily talk — only for your eyes to widen at him suddenly stuffing your cunt with his fingers.

“—You’re always wet, so I knew that’d shut you up,” Relentlessly muttering, Suguru jams his fingers impossibly deep — watching you attempt to pry away from him.

“‘M so…full!” Reprogrammed, you let out an outcry — burying your fingers into Suguru’s carved shoulder.

“Mhm, soon it’ll be a baby,” Hyperfixated on impregnating you, Suguru continues, “I won’t stop until you’re pregnant, flaunting your bump and nurturing an heir.” Suguru’s seriousness causes your heart to swell.

“Yes! I’ll…Yes!” Attempting to get out your point, Suguru thrusting takes away your abilities to speak.

Reprimanding you, Suguru shoots his fingers endlessly inside of you — watching your brows knit together. Seeing you battling his fingers, riddled with pleasure, left the king extremely content. 

“You dare disobey your king?” Teasing you, commending you for trying to govern your pleasure, Suguru pounds angrily into your weakened state.

Suguru knows that you’re one to cum so fast, so seeing you trying to stretch this one motivated him. 

“I-I…No…Fuck!” Trying to control your consciousness, you’re rendered useless.

 Mortified, you finish extremely fast. Your physique grows warm and your legs tremble, deemed useless at Suguru continuing to stuff his fingers into you. Your losing streak had stretched on, particularly from always cumming so quickly when he fingered you.

“Bad girl, guess I have to stuff you in front of the mirror,” Relishing your panting state, Suguru patronisingly speaks to you. 

Naturally, Suguru’s mellow at your ego being knocked down a hinge. With not a word fleeing from your lips, Suguru plants himself into slowly pulling his fingers out of your cunt — sucking them whilst maintaining excruciating eye contact.

Manhandling you, Suguru throws you onto the bed — pushing you into a rough arch. Rough arch before he harshly slaps your doughy ass, delighting in the way you recoil with pleasurable pain. His anger still hadn’t subsided, so taking it out on you — consensually — further aroused him.

“Scream as loud as you can, I want everyone to hear how our heir’ll be made,” Taunting you, Suguru hurriedly pulls off his shorts — only to come back and tear at your lingerie.

“Y-Yes!” Obedient, you agree with him — admiring your reflection in the mirror.

Smitten at your compliance, Suguru runs his cock against your yearning folds. Wickedly greeting your eyes in the mirror, Suguru stuffs your cunt without warning — basking in you almost collapsing at his movements. Nothing in him yearns to keep you stable, wrecking you until you’re a pregnant mess. 

After all, Suguru needs an heir; he’s not willing to let this fruitful moment slip from his burly fingers.

“Make sure to hold yourself up,” Mocking your cock-filled state, Suguru rams harder into you — making sure his large balls slap against your clit.

Without further notice, Suguru grips onto your hips — roughening his pace. Content at your screaming, mewls and outcries, Suguru obliterates you with his ample cock — his balls aching your sensitive clit.

“Mhhmmm!” Muffling into the sheets, you admire your tear-stained eyes in the mirror.

“G-Good…” Grunting, Suguru pounds into you without any care — in love with the way your cunt swallows all of him.

Beautifully consumed, Suguru subconsciously finishes inside of you — crushing you with his body weight to solidify the moment. Solidify the moment as you wail with pleasure, accidentally joining Suguru in the moment. After all, Suguru always got what he wanted — angry or not.

If the nocturne turns to daybreak, Suguru wouldn’t care. Even if you’re battered, ravaged and turned inwards, Suguru doesn’t care. He’s ravenous and in need of an heir.

He’d never hurt you, though.

—

choso kamo

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ───»

Walking towards the parted bathroom, confusion floods you. Floods you as you listen to tainted grunts and love-stuffed moans. Instinctively pinpointing them as Choso’s moans, you raise a brow with confusion — unsure of what’s occurring.

“Cho’?” Sceptical, you gush out your question — pouring your scarcely robbed self against the bathroom door.

“Mhm, Y/n,” Nonchalantly speaking, you pucker your lips at the lewd sight of Choso stroking his cock — beads of sweet dousing his forehead.

“C-Cho?” Unable to stifle the thudding between your thighs, you meekly call his name — standing before an absorbed Kento.

“Y-Y/n!” Gasping, Choso’s outcries are replaced with slight terror as you’re grounded in front of him — watching him jerk himself off in your bathtub.

“N-Need some help?” Innocently asking a drowsy Choso, you watch him embarrassingly monitor you — noticing your skimpy attire.

“Yeah, but not with me, you,” Gasping at Choso’s aloofness, you gulp — meeting his semi-serious gaze.

“What is it?” Submersed in Choso’s scare statement, you respond — squishing your chubby thighs together.

“I want us to have an heir,” Blurting out his confession, Choso glances at you with hope, continuing, “I know I’m half-cursed, still struggling with human emotions, but I still want a baby with you.” Glancing at his erection, Choso observes you strip — climbing into the large bathtub.

“Fill me with one, Cho’,” Exhibiting your wealthy gaze, you let out a heartfelt answer — listening to Choso’s breathing hitch.

“Baby, I need to feel you tease me,” Almost desperate, Choso blurts out his deepest needs — flooding your heart and head with explicit lust.

“Hm, you’re so cute, King Kamo,” Teasing the king, you gently pinch your nipples — gently straddling his hopeless self.

“Should have known you’d tease…me,” Smitten, engraving your presence upon him, Choso replies — star stricken by your nude figure.

“‘M holding back,” Striving to not pounce on Choso, you lazily purr — grinding against his sensitive cock-head.

“Since when… have you held back?” Digging his fingers into your hips, Choso throatily questions you — smearing his you-deprived lips against your own.

“Never, but…I want it to last,” Confessing, you harshly whine with pleasure. Controlled by Choso’s wavering fingers sowing into your doughy ass, you arch into him — relishing the harsh marks Choso’s bound to plant.

“This is your foreplay… since we just finished having sex?” Mocking you, Choso coolly asks you — his eyes contrasting his tame demeanour.

“Yes, and I’m soaking,” Frantic for Choso’s cock, you mindlessly grind against cum-spewing tip — scarcely having time to respond.

“Mhm, you’re still covered in hickeys,” Attentive, Choso points out the obvious — helping you apply his heavenly cock to your adoring cunt.

“Need to be filled, Cho’,” Clinging to him, unafraid of the sloshing water, you whisper your deepest desire.

Nodding, monitoring your state, Choso plasters himself into descending you down on his cock. However, slightly troubled gasps flee your lips — especially from being so tender. Yet, Choso notices — faintly brushing his toned fingers against your supple cheek.

“I’ll give you everything again, my love,” Pussy-stricken, Choso's breaths become clustered with his promise — his rawest urges rubbing against you.

“I expect…nothing less from my king!” Drowning Choso with your outcries, you begin to entwine with Choso’s pace — bouncing on his cock while he bucks so viciously within you.

Whenever Choso sexually had you, he wouldn’t spare you an ounce of grace or mercy — pulverising you until the angel sang your prayers. Gentleness, whenever Choso’s lulled by your wealthy pussy, was practically nonexistent. Seeing you sit against him, your pretty, perky breasts bouncing, it made Choso lose any grasp of his morals. Morals at seeing you desperate for him, unable to pull away.

“L-Look…at my girl,” Clutching your hips intensely, Choso pushes you further down his cock — lovingly complimenting you.

“Ah! S-Shit! P-Please…get me…pregnant,” Unable to handle riding Choso, you gift him a tender plea — struggling as he heightened his stamina with his blood techniques.

“Mhm, we need…an heir,” Proud of you cumming swiftly, Choso mutters while he increases his pace — gritting his teeth at you strangling his vast cock.

“D-Do…it,” Exhausted, Choso animalistically becomes more consistent with your consent.

Driven by your squelching cunt, Choso fucks into you his hardest. His sacred breaths flee from his lungs, leaving him a pitiful mess — fucking into you until he’s so close to giving out. Choso’s legs are almost close to collapsing, but he pounds into you at a celestial pace until he finally finishes — filling your womb with his precious babies.

There’s no way he would stop until you’re pregnant. After all, you’re ovulating.

--

sukuna.

«──── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────»

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you comfortably walk towards your bedroom — sighing to yourself at the lack of your husband. However, as you begin to peel off your towel, you hear your bedroom door burst open. Burst opens in a way that leaves you scrambling, cruelly met with Ryomen’s true form. A form that cowers over you, dismantling the faint light within your bedroom.

“R-Ryo’?” Gulping, terrified, you meekly squeal out your question — entwined with a thudding thrill that greets your cunt.

“I need to get you pregnant,” Straightforward, Ryomen authoritatively speaks — seriousness lingering in his carmine eyes.

“Y-You c-could have knocked,” Bare before a nearing Ryomen, you cover your breasts with your arms — shakily responding.

“What fun would it have been, knocking on our room door for my naive wife?” Boredom slightly tints Ryomen’s inquiry, leaving him plentiful at your flustered physique.

“N-None, R-Ryo?” Suppressed by Ryomen’s lustful corruption, you almost stumble at him overpowering you — his stomach’s mouth chuckling.

“My little dove’s nervous,” Mocking you, Ryomen grins at your nude physique — nuzzling at your submissiveness.

“T-Take me,” Uneasy at being exposed, you blurt out your soul’s desires — fiddling with your fingers at Ryomen’s toned abs.

“I’ll plant a sweet royal heir in you,” Mischievously muttering his plan, Ryomen gently pinches your nipple — walking forward to trap you against your ample bed.

“W-What’s come over you, Ryo?” Curious, you question Ryomen — realising your mistake as he lifts you with a singular arm.

“Not having an heir with you,” Predatory, Ryomen cast himself into voicing his concern — pushing you into straddling him.

“You really are a big baby,” Teasing Ryomen, you accidentally moan at his stomach’s tongue prodding against your ass.

“Can I?” Concealing his primal urges, Ryomen gruffly asks you — longing to gather a beautiful taste of you. Taste before he allows his seed to spread, toning your physique for nine months.

“Y-Yeah, but be careful, I’m still sensitive from last night,” Warning Ryomen, you almost topple at his insensitive tongue darting against your cunt — tearing apart your sanity in an instant.

“I’ll try, but you know it’s not in my nature to hold back,” Countering your need for ease, Ryomen hungrily responds to you — revealing his covetous urges for you.

Simply nodding, secretly yearning for Ryomen to decimate you, you toss yourself into giving into his thick, warm tongue. A tongue that relishes you so inhumanely, conquering you to the point you're craving, ailing and fixated on Ryomen’s tongue. A tongue that has mastered all of the arts on you, swiftly flicking your clit with no regard.

“Mhm, Ryo,” Struck with an unfathomable amount of pleasure, you moan out his name — sticking your fingers against his timeless abs.

“Cum quickly so I can stuff you beyond repair,” Humming out his impatience, a pair of Ryomen’s arms push you impossibly further against his insatiable tongue.

Content with your obedience, Ryomen buries you inhumanely against his tongue — shedding his ropes of care towards your thriving self. Sadistically monitoring, he applies an ounce of his brute strength — destroying your clit with pitiful licks that consume you. Within this form, he had to be careful — ensuring you come out in one piece.

“S-So…close! Ah! Yes! Yes!” Ecstatic, you surge Ryomen’s ears with your mewls — riding his tongue without any regard.

All you were doing was stirring Ryomen’s primal instincts, completely leaving him wanting to devour you — filling you with his two cocks.

“I’ll have to be quicker,” Grinning maliciously, Ryomen taunts you — speeding his tongue at a pace that leaves you weeping. Weeping without any mental strength, tinting with the overstimulating warmth of his licking tongue. 

A tongue that roamed effortlessly through your folds, sucking down on your clit before roaming to overwork other spots of you. Spots that ride Ryomen’s forbidden tongue, clouded and coerced by the sweet physical rhythm that his tongue introduces. A tongue you would always beg to ride, being able to meet Ryomen’s eyes without having to currently sit on his manly face.

Swarmed with an unmissable pleasure, your physique cramps against Ryomen — finishing swiftly against his tongue. Before you could shift yourself, you find your fatigued self shifted lower to rub against Ryomen’s ample cocks — almost ready to soothe his thudding cocks. Cocks that were forced to endure your whines, moans, and outcries without being truly satisfied.

“Don’t act like I wasn’t going to stuff you after you cum,” Expectant, Ryomen fills the ambience with his voice — intrigued by you instantly rutting your folds against his cockhead.

“I-I’ll take both,” Somewhat terrified, you pledge to take both — groaning at Ryomen using both of his hands to align his cocks.

Attempting to composure yourself, you grow soothed at Ryomen’s main arms running against your hips. Running against your hips before he hurriedly sits up a little, giving you room to face his features and steal a kiss of assurance.

“I’d have expected no less,” Sparing you praise, Ryomen slowly plunges his main cock within you — watching your eyes flutter with distress and pleasure.

“N-Never took two before,” Panting, rather teary, you voice your concerns — only for Ryomen to lovingly kiss your lips.

“Hm, you will today,” Ryomen gruffly informs you, aligning his second cock to sink inside your bubble butt.

“S-So…intense,” Furrowing your brows, you’re barely able to speak — hazy and faint as Ryomen descends you down on both of his cocks.

Clinging to Ryomen, you bury your fingers into his tender skin — scratching at his honed muscles. An overwhelming array of fear tints you, but that subsides the moment Ryomen sinks so deeply. The immense pleasure tears your lidded eyes open.

“Hm, that’s… the queen I love,” Cooing, Ryomen stuffs you further —  endowing you with a few experimental thrusts that contort you.

“C-Can’t…” Unable to speak, you just allow your eyelids to flutter. Your pleasure’s unable to be voiced from the intensity of it all, painting you into a state of weakness — attempting to ride.

“We’ve got all night,” Attempting to hold out, Ryomen accidentally cums with both of his cocks — the tempting warmth overwhelming even him.

“Mhm, you’re gonna break me,” Fixed with primal urges, Ryomen animalistically thrusts his thick cocks within you — terrorising and breaking you subconsciously.

“That’s the point, to prepare you for our baby,” Love-strickenly conversing, Ryomen pounds into you carelessly — humming as he has all night to shatter you.

—

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024.

[starboye]

imagine olderbf!simon who can get ruthless in bed, i mean dont get me wrong he loves you, you're the light that brightens his world, his everything, he's determined to one day marry you but he cant marry you if you cant walk down the aisle

he loved your sweet and passionate sex times but other rimes he was a beast in bed, fucking you until you screamed his name, his back covered fully in your nail scratches and your body marked with his kisses and heavy bruises from his grip on you

he'll be grunting like a mad man while destroying you inside and out, rearranging your guts and leaving you feeling like you just got a train ran on you but really it was just your delightful man, but lets face it, we all like a man who's a gentleman in the streets and freak in the sheets

while out with friends or family he's sweet and kind, opening your doors, giving you his jacket when it's cold out and getting you whatever your heart desire, but after a long day and once you're both behind closed doors he's tearing you apart, gaping you open with his fat cock and marking whats his

and as much as he would like to parade you around with his hickeys on your skin and let every man who tries to flirt with you know that he's the one that gets to fuck you at night, you simply wont let him, and plus what happens in the sheets stays between you two freaks

[tonycries]

Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”  

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you. 

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.  

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any. 

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears. 

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day. 

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh. 

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting. 

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter. 

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?” 

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question. 

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?” 

Shit. 

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!” 

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane. 

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is. 

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. 

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click! 

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact. 

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad. 

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah. 

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.” 

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart. 

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful. 

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod. 

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years. 

“I don’t know what you-”

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years. 

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way. 

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’. 

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet. 

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him. 

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night. 

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him. 

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit. 

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you. 

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy. 

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted. 

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole. 

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch. 

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth. 

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now. 

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high. 

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway. 

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss. 

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor. 

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this?  He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls. 

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him. 

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him. 

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass. 

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good. 

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now. 

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours. 

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl. 

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base. 

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below. 

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now. 

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years. 

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with. 

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken. 

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go. 

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still 

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else? 

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER 

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

[riboism]

tear you apart

》 mob boss! p.sh x fem. ballerina! reader

》 wc: 3.3k

》 plot: a powerful mob boss becomes dangerously distracted by a captivating ballerina, leading him to abandon an important business deal because of his new obsession. Determined to regain his focus, he confronts her one night after a show, only to find himself even deeper entangled in his desire—and a conflict that could jeopardize everything.

》 content: swan lake ballet, ballerina!reader, mob boss! seonghwa, dom! seonghwa, gloved finger-fucking?? eventual smut

🎧 tear you apart- she wants revenge, sour switchblade- elita, into the woods- bragolin

It was now the final act of the show. Rothbart was defeated, his dark powers broken, and the swan maidens were free at last. In the soft glow of the stage, you and Siegfried danced together, your movements light and delicate, like drifting feathers. Each step felt weightless as you floated through the scene, surrounded by the gentle swell of the orchestra and the dreamy, pearlescent backdrop that bathed everything in a soft, otherworldly light. This was the most serene moment of the entire performance—yet your heart raced wildly in your chest.

Throughout the entire show, a sense of unease gripped you, following your every movement on stage. No matter where you turned or what role you played, you felt his eyes on you, that same piercing, unrelenting gaze that had been following you all season. 

Park Seonghwa always sat in the same seat, just a little off-center in the orchestra, ensuring he had the best view of you. Like clockwork, he was here every Saturday night, with his hair slicked back with precision, dressed in a long, black coat that skimmed the floor, and his leather-gloved hands resting motionless on his knees. His eyes followed you all over the stage, studying your every move, every tweak of your brow, his plump lips parted in fascination. His unblinking, stone-cold expression sent shivers down your spine, and yet, you couldn’t deny the intrigue it sparked in you. His observance of you, so focused and ceaseless, made you feel powerful—seen. As if, in his eyes, you were the only ballerina on that stage, the rest of the world fading into irrelevance. You almost looked forward to seeing him in the audience every night, that is, until some whisperings from the other ballerinas during dress rehearsal rattled you. 

"A mobster? Really? I thought those only existed in Scorsese movies," one ballerina laughed softly, her eyes darting nervously to the corner where he sometimes lingered after performances.

"It's true!" another whispered eagerly. "He's part of the Park crime family. Remember when they started cracking down on drug trafficking? Then they suddenly dropped all charges. I heard he paid off half the force. And now—well, I hear he’s eyeing the theater as a front for money laundering."

There was more truth to their rumors than they realized. After his father’s sudden departure, Seonghwa had inherited the mantle, becoming the head of the Park family business—a role he’d taken on with cold, unerring resolve. He was trusted to be the new, pragmatic decision-maker, one who wold keep the family business running smoothly. Everything had been going according to plan, right down to choosing an old, run-down theater on the outskirts of town as his next investment. 

It was a simple acquisition, one that should have been handled quickly. But one evening, he found himself sitting in the darkened theater, watching intently as you stepped onto the stage in your pearly white tutu, your sculpted legs covered in thick stockings, twirling on your experienced tippy toes, forcing him to wonder how you can move so gracefully while doing something that seemed so painful. 

Seonghwa never thought much of performance art; it simply wasn’t his world. His world was dark, brutal, and unforgiving. But from the first graceful movement, and the beautiful melody from the live orchestra, he was captivated with the world of the Swan Lake. You moved with such elegance and emotion that he couldn’t look away, each gesture leaving him more entranced than the last. From that night on, he returned every evening you performed, ignoring his obligations just to see you dance. He became infatuated with the beauty and artistry he hadn’t known could exist. 

The original plan was simple: aquire the theater, reshape it into something profitable, and then use the profits to conceal earnings. But now, the thought of disrupting your world was unbearable. Reluctantly, he abandoned the deal, his priorities now twisted by an enchantment he resented. 

From that very first performance, you unknowingly unraveled the careful fabric of his plans. Seonghwa found himself slipping away from his duties week after week, drawn back to that same old theater. His associates began to worry, questioning his judgement, but he couldn’t help it. He told himself it was just a curiosity or distraction—anything but the truth. You had enchanted him, woven yourself into his thoughts so deeply that he couldn’t bring himself to go through with the acquisition. Every time he saw you, he was reminded of what he stood to lose.

His associates were quick to notice his shift, whispering about his lack of judgment and uncharacteristic indecision. They urged him to reconsider, to stay grounded—but he felt himself slipping. Trouble was on the horizon; he could sense it. Part of him loathed you for the hold you had over him, for making him slack off from his responsibilities. Yet, night after night, he was drawn back, helpless against the spell you’d cast, unable to break free, and unwilling to let go.

Seonghwa knew he couldn’t keep living like this. His soul was burning hopelessly, and he needed to put out this fire fast. 

—

It was quiet now, the theater emptying as the final notes of the orchestra still seemed to hang faintly in the air. You slipped into your dressing room, exhausted yet exhilarated, the glow of the performance still warming you as you changed out of your costume. Carefully, you removed your stage makeup, wiping away the traces of the Swan Queen. The transformation always felt strange, trading feathers and grace for the ordinary routine of going home.

You packed your things slowly, placing each item into your bag with a practiced rhythm, already looking forward to the calm of your apartment. But as you reached for your coat, a prickle of unease returned. It was that lingering feeling, the sensation of being watched, that had haunted you all night.

The silence shattered with a sudden, firm knock on the door, catching you off guard. Your heart raced, and before you could even gather yourself to respond, the door creaked open, slow and deliberate. His face appeared in the dim light, and you caught your breath. It was him.

Seonghwa stepped in just enough for his figure to fill the doorway, his familiar dark coat draping around him like a shadow. His expression was unreadable, the same cold, composed look he always wore, yet his eyes held a strange intensity that made you feel hot.

Your heart pounded as he stood there, with his gaze fixed intently on you. You felt a flicker of fear—a quiet, instinctive warning. Everything about him radiated power, a kind of quiet danger that you couldn’t ignore. Yet, having him so close to you now felt exhilarating, almost like you were waiting for him to knock on your door. 

“I hope I’m not intruding,” He apologized, his sharp features now softening in your presence, hoping to disarm you. 

“I’m sorry, c-can I help you with something?”

He paced around your small dressing room, his eyes lingering on the little details—your stage makeup scattered across the vanity, the photo frames of other ballerinas lining the walls. Anxiety twisted in your stomach as you watched him, still unsure of why he was here. Then, he turned to you with an unreadable expression, extending his gloved hand. "I just wanted to introduce myself properly," he said, his voice smooth but distant, “Park Seonghwa. I’m from a private equity firm. I know the owner, Hongjoong.” Shakily, you reached out your hand, the leather of his glove feeling cold and unnatural against your skin. You suppressed a shiver as his grip lingered just a second longer than you expected.

“I’m Y/N.” 

"Y/N...Congratulations on being this season’s Swan Queen," he continued, his voice low and deliberate. "You’ve done very well. You must be very pleased with yourself."

You managed a quiet thank you, though the words felt strange on your lips, your usual confidence faltering under his watchful gaze. His praise should have flattered you, but instead, it left you feeling oddly exposed, like he saw more than you intended to show.

He released your hand, but the strange, lingering sensation stayed with you, leaving you both captivated and nervous.

Feeling faint, you sat down on your vanity chair. "So, you know Hongjoong?" you asked, searching for some logic behind his sudden presence.

"I do," he replied smoothly, though there was a slight glint in his eye that betrayed him. "We’ve been discussing a potential business venture together."

The truth, however, was a little more complicated. Seonghwa had met Hongjoong only once, barely enough to call him an acquaintance. From the start, Hongjoong hadn’t seemed eager to hand over his only asset to a man of Seonghwa’s reputation, especially not when rumors swirled about his intention to repurpose the theater into something as mundane as a car wash to serve as a front for his family’s business. But Seonghwa knew how to persuade, and when he named his price, Hongjoong’s reluctance began to waver.

That first night, they’d arranged to negotiate the deal, and Seonghwa had come prepared to secure the theater with his usual finesse. But Hongjoong was running late. Growing tired from standing in the lobby all evening, Seonghwa decided to sit in an empty seat during the show only to rest his feet, but your elegant movements captivated him, and made him forget who he was and why he was there. 

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you in a way that made the small room feel even smaller. Your breath hitched as his intense gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. The air between you felt charged, the warmth of his presence mingling with the lingering cold from his leather gloves.

“But I’m not here to talk about that,” He said, towering over you, “I could actually use your help in something.” 

There was something odd yet inticing about his request. What could he, a possible mob boss, want from someone like you?

“And what might that be?” You asked, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

He was so close to you now that you could pick up the warming notes of his cologne— spices, sandalwood, and a hint of citrus. You’d seen his face a thousand times before, always shrouded in the dim lighting of the audience, his expression always stoic and muted. But now, with the light catching the sharp angles of his cheekbones and his plush and perfect lips just inches away from you, he was utterly captivating. You couldn’t look away. 

"You see, I have this problem," he said, pacing slowly around you, his voice steady but laced with something unspoken. The air shifted each time he moved, the chill of his absence replaced by an intoxicating warmth as he drew near again. 

"A problem?" you echoed, your voice a little breathless, trying to focus as his reflection loomed behind you in the mirror.

"Mm." He stopped directly behind you, lowering his head closer to the nape of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "It’s you," he admitted, his tone dropping into something dangerously intimate.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

Seonghwa straightened himself, meeting your wide-eyed gaze in the mirror, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smirk. "You’re making it very hard for me to focus on my job," he said. His words were as smooth as they were direct. "And when a man like me gets distracted… it causes complications."

He moved again, standing to your side now, his hand resting lightly on the back of your chair. The closeness was almost unbearable, every nerve in your body hyper-aware of his presence.

"So," he continued, his eyes locking onto yours, "I thought perhaps you could help me resolve this little… issue of mine."

Your mind raced to comprehend the suggestion wrapped in his words. The way he looked at you left no room for misinterpretation, his meaning clear without being crass. You felt a sudden pulse between your legs, forcing you to squeeze your thighs tighter. 

"And how exactly would I… help?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seonghwa tilted his head, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "You’re a clever woman," he said, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your shoulder with deliberate care. "I think you already know."

—

You sat perched on your dressing table, forced to see yourself reflected in the mirror. There was a nervous flutter in your stomach as Seonghwa loomed behind you, his broad shoulders and low eyes making your breath hitch. You watched as he parted your thighs before eagerly ripping at the center seam of your stocking, revealing your glistening cunt to you both. Before you could react, he brought down his gloved hand, tapping on your pulsing clit a few times before pressing down in slow and small circles. 

The coldness of the leather made you gasp, your heartbeat spiraling in excitement. You could see your slick coating his fingers, bringing a faint shine to his black gloves. 

“Such a fat little pussy,” he breathed into your neck, the sudden warmth making a few hairs stand at your nape. He lightly slapped your cunt again, his mouth watering at your chubby, wet folds. “Didn’t think such a sweet little ballerina had something like this between her legs.” 

You couldn’t help but feel vulnerable as you took in your reflection, hardly recognizing the scantily clad woman before you. You pressed your eyes shut as he continued pulling a string of shaky, breathless moans from your lips.

“Let’s see how well this little pussy can take me, hm?” He challenged, refusing to wait for your response before inserting a leathered digit into your wet walls. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, struggling to wrap around the thickness of his glove. Seonghwa chuckled at your tightness.

“Please,” You begged, tightly holding onto his working arm. But the desperation in your voice only egged him on. He thrust in a merciless rhythm, the squelching sounds from your arousal sending blood down to his groin. 

“Please what dear? You want more?” Seonghwa grinned devilishly before stuffing in another finger, the sudden stretch sending a mix of pain and pleasure to your core. He worked you open at a brutal pace, soaking in your sweet moans as you gripped onto him tighter. 

You were slowly coming undone, your knees quivering and threatening to cave in. You felt his hand grip onto your inner thigh, holding you open as much as possible for him. It was then that you fluttered your eyes open, only to find his gaze already locked onto yours in the mirror. You felt a twist in your stomach like he’d caught you doing something you shouldn’t be doing. You quickly realized that Seonghwa had been watching you in the mirror, his gaze unwavering as he took in every tear tracing your scorned red cheek, the delicate furrow of your brow, and the way your plush, pouty lips let out the softest, most beautiful whines he’d ever heard. Just as enchanting as your expressions were on stage, they were even more alluring here as he ravished you at his will. 

His fingers were so much deeper now, hitting you in all the right places, until the tension inside of you snapped and you finally let go all over his gloved fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You sputtered, watching your wetness drip down his gloves. Exhaustion suddenly took over you, forcing your head to fall against his chest. 

“I hope you don’t think we’re finished here,” He whispered, his soft, full lips feathering over your ear lobe, “There’s still a lot of things I need you to do.”

—

You were sprawled out over the table now, your top completely discarded, leaving you in just your ripped stockings. Seonghwa liked the stockings you wore on stage. They were so pearly and smooth, and he almost felt bad for ruining them this way. He leaned down and peppered a trail of kisses under your ear, down to your collarbone, lingering over your hardened peaks briefly, before continuing down to your pelvis. 

You felt a wave of heat spread over you as he kissed around the outside of your cunt before spreading your lips with his fingers, reuniting you with the coldness of the leather. He dragged his long, warm tongue over your hot slit, groaning once your essence reached his tastebuds. 

“You taste just as sweet as you look,” He praised, before wrapping his lips over your swollen clit. He sucked and pulled, swallowing every bit of juice you offered him hungrily. 

Your back arched in bliss, your hips rolling as he gleefully lapped away at your cunt. He pressed his strong hands down your inner thighs to keep you still, your puffy pussy now spread completely open for him to devour. He savored every drop of you, like a predator that spent weeks catching its prey.

Seonghwa told himself he’d finally be rid of this infatuation after tonight and return to his duties with no more distractions, but how could he now after seeing you like this? With your body so willing, the sheer afterglow hitting your face and collarbones, the uneasy rise of your chest, and those lustful, messy moans? It all enticed him even further, and he worried he’d never be able to stay away. 

Seonghwa was at his peak now, and he couldn’t hold out any longer. He quickly sprang up at his feet, the sounds of his belt unbuckling making your core throb with anticipation. His angry, red tip pressed against your slit, making you gasp at how hot and hard he felt. 

Seonghwa pushed himself in slowly, inch by inch until his shaft was completely sucked in by you. He cursed at your tightness and moved his hips slowly, allowing you to adjust to his girth.

“Fuck!” You cried out, curling your toes as he plunged deeper into you. He fucked you hard and rough, determined to take all his anger and frustrations out on you so that he could return to his stoic self. He hated you for throwing him off his game, and he still held onto that hope that he’d finally let go of all his pent up emotions once he finishes fucking your brains out. He just needed to get it out of his system.

You winced at his tight grasp on your hips. His pace was brutal, the sounds of your dressing table rocking against the wall overpowering your desperate screams, yet you refused to open your eyes. You didn’t want to see his face while he thrusted into you with an unspoken vendetta. His gaze alone made you feel even more hot and frazzled. 

Suddenly, you felt his hand creep to the back of your head, pulling your head up by a fistful of strands. You took in a sharp breath, the pain of your pulled hair forcing you to open your eyes at last.

“Look at how good you fucking take me,” He grunted, pushing your head down farther to help you get a good look at his cock stretching out your swollen cunt. “ ‘Take me just like a good girl.” 

Your face grew hot as you watched yourself take him in, eyes bulging at his thick cock that was decorated with pulsing veins and twitched inside of you so deliciously. So drunk off his cock, you found yourself rambling nonsense as he fucked you into oblivion. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me so good!”

You felt you both were melting into each other, your breathing growing erratic and unsteady until you finally lost your composure.

Seonghwa pulled out of you, spilling himself over your wet cunt as he sucked in a breath, making sure to milk out every last drop of his seed. You couldn’t help but watch as he spread his thick, white cum over your swollen pussy lips, your body twitching from the sensitivity. 

When you looked up at him, you found his face flushed as red as yours, his mouth slightly agape, with an expression that caught you off guard. The moody, confident alpha male who had entered your room now seemed unsteady, his composure cracked, leaving him looking utterly broken and confused.

He leaned down, his breath mingling with yours for a fleeting moment before his lips finally pressed against yours. The kiss was seamless, as though the two of you had been meant to move together in this way all along. The warmth of his touch ignited something between you, a spark that quickly became a flame, and a flame that would soon become a raging fire that could never be put out.

Seonghwa's desire for you only intensified in that moment. Whatever his plans had been before tonight, they now felt irrelevant, tangled up in the web of feelings he could no longer suppress. He didn’t know what this meant for his current predicament—how this would complicate everything—but one thing was certain: he wouldn’t be letting you go anytime soon. He’s marked his destiny by letting himself be engulfed in the flames.

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day sixteen.

Breeding Kink (3.2k words)

summary: Since the moment he met you, Lando knew he wanted you to be the mother of his children, and that feeling only intensified when he saw taking care of your nephew.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talking, breeding kink.

To anyone else, and as people would expect, seeing your significant other with a child should warm your heart; it should give you a soft spot for the person you’ve vowed to spend the rest of your life with. 

Lando did feel like that when he saw you interact with any kid, like when you were walking in the paddock and a kid came up to him and you always made conversation so they wouldn’t feel so shy, or when a driver brought their kid to the race and you immediately leaned down to talk to them, sometimes even holding their tiny hands as they swore they had the coolest thing to show you.

That was the first few times, at least. But he will never forget how everything inside him shifted when you first met his niece. She instantly fell in love with you, and she needed to drag you everywhere. Who could blame her, really; that’s just the effect you have on people.

But god, the effect you had on him? That was another level, because the way he felt that weekend when you picked up a motherly role when you were with her made him feel something he had never felt before, something he never imagined, and quite honestly, he couldn’t explain it. That was until you were saying goodbye and the little girl nearly cried when her mother took her from your arms, and his hands instinctively landed on your tummy when he walked you back to the car.

The thought of you carrying his child and taking care of them the same way you did with his niece — now that is a fire he could never put out, not until it became a reality. He wanted- no, he needed to make you a mother; he desperately needed to put a baby in you in a way that was almost primal.

You and Lando have been together for years, and it was common knowledge that he wanted kids. Sure, you have talked about having a family one day after getting married, one day, but sometimes he just wishes you could skip all of that and make a baby once and for all. 

For months, he kept those thoughts to himself, not wanting to ruin what you had just because he couldn’t contain his desire buried for a little longer; that was until you babysat your 5-year-old nephew, Charlie.

He came back home sometime in the afternoon, eyes tired and body aching for the intensity of the past weeks. He wanted nothing more than to be with his girlfriend and forget about the world, but as soon as he stepped into your apartment, he heard the TV and loud chuckles coming from the living room.

His brows frowned in confusion as he dropped his bags next to the door and followed the noise, his heart nearly stopping when he spotted you playing with the little kid.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” He said with a huge smile.

“Oh hi, you’re home,” you sprinted towards him, hugging him tightly when he caught you in his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he kissed your temple. “And how is this little guy doing?" Lando walked towards Charlie, kneeling next to him to be at the same level. 

“Good, we are playing with the puppies,” he exclaimed, his tiny finger pointed at the TV. 

“Yeah? Are they fun?” He just nodded and ran closer to the glowing screen, completely forgetting about Lando’s existence and jumping again as his tired eyes followed the dogs.

“Don’t worry, my sister will pick him up in a couple of hours.”

“It’s fine. He seems happy.”

“And very tired. I think it's time for a nap, what do you say?” You walked towards him, trying to pick him up, but he refused.

“No! I wanna play racing again.” 

“We can play some other time, I promise.” 

He looked up at you, the corners of his mouth turning down as his eyes quickly filled with tears. He shook his head and ran back to Lando, who was still on his knees, as he caged himself in his arms.

“I wanna play racing,” he repeated, this time to your boyfriend, sniffling and wiping his tears.

“Yeah? We can play for a little while.”

“Lando-” The way he just betrayed you, you would never forgive him.

“He’ll want to go to sleep soon, don’t worry.” You saw them walk to Lando’s streaming room, Charlie skipping as he held his hand.

You rolled your eyes and followed them, crossing your arms as you rested against the door frame. Lando tried to pick him up, intending to sit him in the sim, but he nearly lost his mind, as if Lando had no idea how playing racing worked.

“No! Auntie.” Lando freaked out and out and put him back down, looking at you as he begged for your help with a single look.

“I’m right here, sweetie.”

You stepped closer to them, sitting on the chair as you picked him up and put him on your lap. He was happy again, his little feet kicking in the air as he gripped the steering wheel.

“We’ll do one more, okay?”

“Yes!” He happily exclaimed.

Lando watched the both of you in awe as you started the game, showing Charlie all the cool cars he could choose from.

“I want the blue car again!” He said, pointing at the Red Bull. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lando joked. You giggled at this, but chose the Red Bull for the race.

It was a free practice session, so you weren’t actually racing other cars, but you still got to drive it super fast, which is exactly what he liked. 

As the session started, you placed your hands just below his. You were doing all the work, but the illusion was still there. 

It was a little harder to drive like this, but you still managed to put up a few good laps without messing up too much, but even when you did, he was enjoying it, giggling and pointing at the screens as he turned to Lando to ask him an excited “did you see that?” Any time something happened, and every time, Lando would just nod and match his enthusiasm.

The session ended, and just like you did earlier today, you congratulated your nephew for his amazing driving. He took the compliments proudly as if he just won a championship, but his head soon fell on your chest, yawning as he snuggled closer.

“Okay, time for a nap.”

He didn’t resist this time. Instead, he nodded as his eyes closed. Lando helped you get up as you held Charlie close to you, walking towards the guest room; that was the room he preferred, saying your room was too scary and probably haunted.

You carefully laid him down, taking his shoes off and covering his body with a blanket. How was he already in a deep sleep? You had no idea, but you envy him.

While he was asleep, you took the time to clean up the mess he made earlier, picking up all the toys he brought and putting Lando’s helmets back where they belonged. You loved your nephew, you really did, but man, it was really challenging to take care of a child. Not only were they messy and unpredictable, but they had so much energy you could barely keep up. You often wondered how your sister did it. 

Once you finished up, you dramatically collapsed on the couch. “I need to sleep for like a week,” you joked, your boyfriend laughing at your antics.

He made his way to the couch, sitting next to you as he pulled you in a warm embrace, hands caressing your sides as he placed a sweet kiss on the top of your head. “Me too, and I was only here for like half an hour.”

“Imagine! I’ve been with him since this morning. I’m never babysitting again.”

“No? But you love Charlie.” He looked at you expectantly, trying to decipher if you were being serious.

“I do, but it’s too much sometimes. I honestly don’t know what we’ll do when we have our kids.”

Our kids. Two simple words that opened up a can that you would never be able to close. He stayed silent, mentally cursing the tent forming in his pants for betraying him in such an innocent moment.

You didn’t think anything of it, nor did you realise what those two words did to him, so you just reached for the remote control and browsed the channels. You ended up picking a cooking show, paying attention as if you would ever cook anything like that.

The entire time, Lando was paying attention to you — all of you. He admired your face, your hands, your hips… your tummy. He couldn’t stop himself from placing both his hands on your stomach, imagining what you would look like carrying a child. His child. He was well aware he was getting ahead of himself, but after witnessing today’s events? God, he needed to do something about it.

Another hour went by, and you were already catching up to your boyfriend’s intentions. To you, everything seemed normal at first, but the lower his hands got and the way his thumb was rubbing soft circles on your stomach, it clicked. You knew how Lando felt about having a family with you, but it never crossed your mind that seeing you with kids affected him so much. Though it all made more sense now, any time you were near a kid, even if you didn’t interact with them at all, his hands would be all over you, and when he got you alone? That’s another story, but you never connected the dots until now. 

Suddenly, a phone call made both of you jump. It was your sister calling you to let you know she was in the building, ready to pick Charlie up. You gathered all his things as Lando greeted your sister, walking her in and guiding her to the guest room.

“Aw, he looks so peaceful.”

“Well, you should’ve seen him two hours ago,” you joked.

“I know,” she laughed with you. “Thank you for taking care of him on such short notice, you saved my life today.”

“It’s okay, I love spending time with Charlie, and I’m happy to do it any other time.” 

“Thanks, Y/N. He honestly loves you, you have no idea how happy he got when I told him we were coming here.” Your sister was about to carry Charlie in his arms, but Lando offered to bring him down to the car. 

Okay, now you got it. You had to admit that seeing Lando carry a little kid did things to you, and since your realisation a few minutes ago, you couldn’t stop thinking about a family; how did you suddenly get your own case of baby fever? Sure, you were still young, and that probably wouldn’t happen for at least a few years, but fantasising couldn’t hurt anyone. 

You walked back to the apartment holding Lando’s hand, his grip so tight you thought he could break your hand if he squeezed a little harder. As soon as the door closed behind you, he grabbed you by the hips and turned you around, his lips crashing into yours in an intense kiss.

Kissing him back, your arms wrapped around his neck as one hand played with his hair.

“You looked so pretty today, taking such good care of the baby,” he mumbled against your lips, biting it sofly. You couldn’t contain the moan that left your mouth, only encouraging him further. 

He carried you to your bedroom, immediately throwing you in the bed and hovering over you. He pressed himself further into you, making you very aware of his hardening cock as he nudged his bulge into your lower stomach. You moaned again, your legs going around his torso to pull him down.

“I wanna put a baby in you. God, you would look so perfect.” He didn’t know what to do with you. He wanted to kiss you, bite you; he wanted to touch you everywhere, his own mind making him feel overwhelmed. 

After quickly taking off your shirt, he started kissing you everywhere, a trail of wet kisses making their way down your body. His touch was electric, making you nearly squirm beneath him as your fingers kept a tight grip on his hair, and his words only made the feeling intensify. 

“Lando,” you moaned, he hummed in response, “do it,” you simply said. God, the way everything inside him shifted is something he wanted to remember for the rest of his life. He looked up at you, eyes filled with a hunger and desperation you had never seen before. 

“Yeah? You want me to put a baby here?” He asked you, his big hand falling on your lower stomach as he kissed it. 

“Mhm, yes.” Your heartbeat was as strong as ever, and you were already having a hard time focusing. You needed him to do something and you needed it now. 

“Fuck,” he breathed as his hips involuntarily thrusted into the mattress. His lips kept exploring the lower part of your body as his hands worked on getting rid of your joggers, hands falling on your thighs immediately after to move them to rest on his shoulders. 

“Please, I need you so bad,” you begged, and he assumed you were asking him to pay attention to your poor pussy, which you were, but his mouth is not what you needed right now, so you stopped him after one firm lick. “Inside me.”

“As you wish, my love.” 

He got off the bed to quickly discard his clothes as you did the same with your bra, falling back on the bed as you eagerly waited for him. You felt like his gaze was piercing you as he lowered his body, pressing himself against you.

You moaned in anticipation, your arms wrapped around his neck as you felt your pussy starting to drip with desire. He moved his fingers along your sides and all the way down to your hole, collecting your wetness and spreading everywhere, finally getting to your clit as he rubbed soft circles for a moment.

He moved his mouth to your chest, taking one of your nipples into your mouth as he whimpered, and his mind instantly went to how sensitive and full they would be once you were pregnant, and he couldn’t wait any longer. “You look so fucking sexy tonight, sweetheart... I wanna fuck you so bad.” He was practically drooling as his fingers left your pussy and grabbed his cock, pumping it a couple of times before guiding it to your entrance.

You couldn’t help your gaze dropping to his member, already swollen at the tip and bubbling with precum. It seemed impossible, but you were sure you had never needed him this bad.

He pushed into you, making both of you moan loudly as his eyes met yours for a moment before pressing a kiss on your lips, whispering a little “I love you.”

He didn’t give you that long to adjust. His hands went under your ass, moving you up and down his cock. As if your sex life wasn’t already rough, the intention he had in mind just made him go crazier, because the way he was thrusting into you was bound to leave you sore for days. 

The room was filled with whimpers and slick noises the whole time, moans of each other’s names joining from time to time. “Gonna fill you up so good,” he breathed, his hands squeezing your ass, “fuck, can’t wait to see your tummy grow.” All you could do was moan, the words leaving his mouth putting you under a spell that you could never escape. “Do you want that, love?”

“Uh- huh,” you managed to spit out, fingers drigging into his strong biceps.

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“Fuck- ah. I want you to put a baby in me.” You replied, eyes focusing on what your words did to him.

His hips began to speed up, thrashing your head against the pillows as he repeatedly hit that sweet spot deep inside you. He was so deep you could practically feel him in the pit of your stomach.

“Harder,” you whimpered, and he immediately started to drill into you, the air nearly getting knocked out of your lungs as his grip tightened. 

“You feel so good around me, so so good for me,” he pants, looking down to where you were connected. “Fuck.”

“Ah- Lando.” It felt so good. So good that you are too far out of reality to form any thoughts; you could only think about him and how good he looked above you, with his mouth hung open in pure pleasure as he panted.

One of his hands made its way to your tummy, pressing down where he could feel himself. It was so simple yet so effective; he could feel his cock moving deep inside you. He gragged it further, his fingers catching your clit.

“Fuck,” you let out a broken moan, “just like that.”

He smirked at this; it was like you were begging him to get you pregnant as you began to tighten around him. He knew you were close; he could not only feel it but see it, the way your eyes were squeezed shut as your legs started to quiver.

“You wanna cum? You wanna cum while I fill you up?”

“Fuck,” you screamed as your head frantically nodded. 

“Cum with me, I’m gonna put a baby in there.”

With that, your orgasm began to take over, squeezing around him tighter, triggering his own release. He slowed his movements down and both his hands took a hold of your waist, keeping you in place so you wouldn’t waste a single drop.

Both your moans were even louder as he did his best to continue pushing into you through his orgasm, wanting to pump as much of his seed into you as he possibly could. When he physically couldn’t keep going, he stopped, keeping his cock deep inside you as he tried to catch his breath. 

He looked down at you, a smile adorning his face as he looked down at the mess he made. Slowly, he pulled out, his fingers quickly replacing his cock as he pushed his cum back into you, making you squirm and whimper at how sensitive you were. 

“Gonna have to squeeze for me, love, you gotta keep it inside.” The sight almost made him want to fuck you again; he couldn’t believe how pretty you looked filled up to the brim with his cum.

His eyes locked with yours, fingers going inside his mouth as he licked them clean. He had lost his mind; you were sure of that, but fuck, you couldn’t deny how hot that was.

With a satisfied smirk, he fell next to you, pulling you into his arms as he kissed you once more. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

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