#he only had it because of theft. theft which he did because he felt he was owed riches and privilege that the ppl who stole from

[britneyshakespeare]

james somerton is just one of those people who wants to do whatever he wants and cannot stand the consequences of their own actions, which they willingly chose to do. entitled and self-absorbed motherfuckers. and that's the only way you can think to do the things he's done in the first place. having no base respect for the people you steal from and your audience, of course you think you can somehow do something to win them back. you can't. no one but an egomaniac would do what he's done in the first place, and only an egomaniac would think they can come back from that and still deserve to be praised and respected and have your cozy career like you did before you were exposed for what you've done. people like this cannot be worked with in the public eye.

[blkkizzat]

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟻........... THE BIG BROTHER ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: crazed with quarantine boredom, you can't help but to tease your naive lil' roommate—choso kamo—but you'll know when to stop before it goes too far—or have you already let the real choso in?

classifications: huge mommy kinks, calls reader mommy, dommy mommy!reader, affectionate cruelty/cuteness aggression, manipulative reader, begging, teasing, virgin, creampies, masturbation, panty theft/sniffing/munching, cunalingus, pussy drunk choso, dumbification, slight mentions of menophilia, mentions of aged-up yuji and todo (they give choso “the talk” lmfao).

incidents: 6.9k

You felt bad about this.

You really did. 

Although apparently not enough to actually keep you from teasing your half-cursed roommate, pushing him to the point where moisture shines in his wide, puppy-like eyes.

Standing behind the door of your apartment, you pretend you don’t know the Choso before you is not actually a doppelgänger—so convincingly, in fact, that Choso has even begun to question his own sense of self. 

“B-But, b-but—I t-think, ah no! I promise it’s really me. I can’t be the curse! I-I mean—wait, I am a curse—but only half! D-Don’t you recognize me??”

Worry edges Choso’s voice while his bottom lip quivers.

Damn, Choso just looks too cute, all forlorn and pouty. You can barely stand it.

“Nah, sounds like you’re copping pleas to me, doppelgänger.”

You nearly give yourself away too, stifling a small mewl from watching his adorable lil’ face crumble, blinking back tears. 

While you didn’t intend to make him cry, your pussy is now crying too. Moisture dampening your panties from finally releasing some of the twisted cuteness aggression you’ve been bottling up for so long.

Your half-curse roommate was just too baby-girl for his own damned good—how could you possibly resist toying with him a little?

With that, you decide to take things up a notch.

“Um, are you sure you’re who you say you are? Because my boyfriend, Choso, is already home!”

“B-B-BOY-F-F-FRIEND?!”

Choso’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, blushing furiously and practically choking on the word itself.

EEEEE! Too precious! 

You quickly cup your hand over your mouth hoping he couldn’t hear your giggles through the door.

Truthfully, you and Choso were just roommates.

Neither of you had come close to crossing any lines in the 10 months you’ve lived together. Your cohabitation has been entirely platonic thus far—to your dismay. 

Choso was unbelievably sexy and it makes him even sexier knowing how oblivious he was to it. However, Choso’s obliviousness is a problem in itself. Every subtle hint you drop seems to go right over his head. He was still so new to the ways of living as an everyday human and thus he interpreted everything in the most innocently unaware way possible.

You had no idea if Choso actually had any romantic inclinations towards you, but watching him get all flustered at the thought of dating you then cheesin’ like a goof only encourages the game you’re playing to continue.

You’d end this charade soon—you promise—but you just needed to mess with him a bit more. He’d been gone for almost two weeks, temporarily staying with Yuji back in the Jujutsu High dorms. You’ve been so lonely at home without him, which of course you use to justify your teasing by saying how he owed you this tiny bit of entertainment.

And it's entertaining as hell.

“You mean you don’t even know that Choso and I have been dating for 3 months!? You’re a horrible doppelgänger, you know that? I thought you’d be more convincing than this.”

On the other side of the door Choso was close to losing his entire shit. He had no idea how to process any of this information—unequivocally not having the slightest clue you’re purely fucking with him.

“D-Dating!? 3 m-months!?!”

Choso chews on his lip, trying to churn his exhausted thoughts together. 

When did this happen!? 

He’d been away hunting doppelgänger curses with Yuji practically non-stop for 2 weeks, he’s exhausted from the sheer number of doppels they exterminated and can’t think straight. He didn’t expect to come home to you accusing him of being one—let alone calling him your boyfriend!

Boyfriend. 

That title continued to pinball in Choso’s mind. 

He wanted to get closer to you for such a long time too, but didn’t know how exactly to go about it, all the social aspects of humanity being brand new to him—especially dating.

Not like he’d ever thought about living a normal life or dating living as a curse. Not until he started working for Jujutsu Tech and Yuji suggested he try living a bit more independently. You, one of the many assistant managers and Yuji’s friend, just happened to be in need of a roommate at the time. Being familiar with the Jujutsu world, you weren’t put off by him being a half-curse, quite the opposite. You’d been so helpful, always cheerful and kind, guiding him through any rough patches and helping him in a way similar to how Yuji does.

Yet it didn’t take long for Choso to realize he felt things about you he’d never experienced with anyone else, not even his brothers. 

The desire to constantly be around you and protect you was similar to how he felt about Yuji but with you it just didn’t stop there. Choso wanted to touch you, he wanted to hold you and he desperately wanted to be held by you too. 

Simultaneous to his budding affections for you—Choso realized the persistent pattern of his cock stiffening terribly when you’d casually roam around the apartment in your pjs. PJs that consisted of curve-clinging bottoms and braless crop-tops that would show the exact outline of your pussyprint along with every slight jiggle of tiddy from your movements.

Confused, Choso immediately went to Yuji with his problem—divulging everything. 

It took about 10 minutes for Yuji and Todo (who happened to be with Yuji at the time) to stop laughing before Yuji finally explained that it was a perfectly normal reaction to seeing a pretty girl dressed in so little. 

“Ha! Damn, seeing that juicy ass in tiny shorts everyday? You are truly blessed brother.”

Choso frowned, going silent. 

He secretly hated when Todo referred to him as brother—only him and Yuji were brothers. 

Moreover, the sinister urge to release piercing blood right through Todo’s tiny peanut head had startled Choso. Choso wasn’t one quick to anger and Todo’s comment wasn’t a threat or an insult by any means—but Choso still didn’t like it, even if he agreed with the sentiment. The last thing he wanted you to do, even to his own torment, was to cover up.

Although admittedly, Choso had seen lots of beautiful women wearing even less on the social media apps Yuji had him download. However, the faint notions of attraction were never as intense as when he was around you.

Not even close.

He didn’t know what to do about that. 

Especially after Yuji had warned Choso that it would be inappropriate to let you see any of the many erections Choso got while in your presence. Continuing to say that unless you felt the same way, it would make you uncomfortable and the only reason you did dress that way around him in the first place is because you are comfortable with him.

Todo on the other hand had a different approach and suggested to Choso he “accidentally” drop his towel in front of you after getting out of the shower.

Face red with embarrassment, Choso pointedly ignored that advice.

Making you uncomfortable was the last thing Choso wanted to risk. 

Choso didn’t want to be any more of a burden to you after you had so graciously helped him over these past months, so he never made any of his affections for you known and certainly wouldn’t be able to recognize if you felt the same way. 

Consequently, he would always quickly excuse himself to the bathroom to take care of the issue, anytime it happened to ‘pop up’. 

Literally. 

He was only glad right now that he couldn’t see you in them calling him your boyfriend or he would surely get hard, hell he was starting to regardless.

Choso is thoroughly perplexed, yet his next question is so innocent you nearly moan out from the sheer cluelessness of it all.

“A-A—Are we really dating—y-you and I? I-I mean, you actually wanted to d-date someone like me?”

Okay, now.

Now would be the perfect time to come clean. 

You’d had your fun right?

You could tell he was starting to take this seriously and it wouldn’t be harmless for much longer if you kept this up. 

You honestly don’t even know what’s gotten into you. This sudden wave of aggression feels out of character for you. You’ve never had any inclination to be so pushy or dominant—in fact, you’ve been referred to as a pillow princess in past relationships.

Yet with Choso it was different and had been since the beginning. The urge to encourage him felt so natural—manifesting as a strange bubbling in your chest whenever he had a doleful look of wide-eyed wonderment, head tilted slightly to the side from processing new information. 

God, it was a mixture of pride, joy and endearment that intensified in such a way you just wanted to make him cry—and it’s the exact same look he has right now you note gazing out of the peephole. 

Your legs rub together, but the shifting of your thighs wasn’t near enough stimulation for your repressed lust. You resisted the compulsions that would sprout to tease or taunt him for far too long and it was all spilling out now.

“Of course, we are Cho! Well me and the real Choso—you’re clearly just a doppelgänger or you wouldn’t be asking your girlfriend that.”

You are the absolute worst. 

“Oh, r-right…”

Choso stops, trailing off mid-sentence when he is finally hit with a revelation. 

But if you two were in fact dating did that mean—

Choso swallows hard, recalling all the accounts Yuji and Todo sent him full of videos (twitter porn) of what two people do together when they ‘date’. Yuji also told him though, if he’d go out to bars with him and Todo he’d likely have no issue finding a girl who’d also do it with him—even if they weren’t dating.

But Choso declined. 

He wasn't interested in doing those things with anyone else—he only wanted to do those things with you.

—wait but….could he really *gulps* with you?

Choso breaks into a anxious sweat.

The problem in his pants had been getting worse lately. To the point he had been excusing himself twice a night to settle down his cock and would try to sit on the furthest end of the sofa during movie nights with a pillow over his crotch. 

Although to his torturous agony, somehow you always seemed to find your way over to his side. By the end of the movie you’d be curled up to him with your head on the pillow in his lap over his erection that would have been throbbing all the while. 

But dating?

Were you actually dating all this time and he’d been too clueless to recognize it? 

Choso didn’t know how it started or what all it entailed but he definitely felt like the worst boyfriend in the world for not realizing it sooner! 

He needed to talk to you about that and apologize—but first he needed to convince you it was actually him.

“B-But roomie—please, it’s really me!”

You smirk, getting another mischievous idea.

Roomie, eh? Heehee.

You and Choso call each other ‘roomie’ in the same affectionate way close friends would call each other ‘bestie’—but this too you would use against him as you’re too far on a roll to stop now.

“Roomie?! Nah, my boyfriend Choso only calls me Mommy.”

“MA-MA-MOMMY!?!”

Choso grabs his chest over his heart, and begins muttering something you can’t quiet here, prompting you to consider if a part of his brain has shut down. 

Well, a piece of yours surely did.

All your thoughts are now controlled by the growing ache between your thighs.

You wish you could tackle him to the ground and ride him until he can't cum anymore and his pleas for you to stop melt into submissive whimpers as your pussy would continue to milk him.

While you might not have confirmation if Choso has feelings for you, you can plainly see he’s not repulsed by it at least.

Even so, intrusive pessimistic thoughts creep in, making you wonder if you’re simply too much for him. He’s already been so jumpy around you lately—more than usual—to the point where you worry you might be making him uncomfortable.

Maybe you haven’t been as good with keeping your cruel urges suppressed as you think?

Choso has been keeping a bit more distance too whenever you try to get too close. You know he’s still so naive to the ways of the world, and even if you are teasing him now, the last thing you want is to make him feel taken advantage of.

After all, you genuinely consider both him and Yuji friends—especially since letting Choso stay with you was originally a favor to Yuji.

However, a part of you secretly thinks Yuji may have had some vendetta against you—because why else would he have gifted his older brother those gray sweatpants and black compression tees for xmas? 

Choso didn’t wear underwear often either, especially when around the house—and a person would have to be blind not to see how fat his cock was just flaccid against his thighs.

So yeah, you did start wearing less and less around him, the boy shorts you wore a few weeks ago might as well have been panties from how far they rode up your crack to let the bottom of your ass cheeks poke out of them.

But Choso, even with that, still wouldn’t look your way for too long. 

You sigh.

Alright you had your fun, you’d—

“I-I’m real, I know how to p-prove it!”

Seconds away from stepping back to open the door and barrier, you're speechless as your eyes widen with recognition. The solid blue and tan print cotton material Choso tearfully pulls from his sleeve definitely belong to you.

YOUR RILAKKUMA PERIOD PANTIES!?

“A f-fake Choso wouldn’t have t-these!”

The words spill out of his lips as he looks down at his feet in shame.

Your eyes haven’t dilated from the size of saucers as Choso reveals undeniable proof that he’s the real deal. How else would he have found those heavily soiled teddy bear granny panties you’d hidden so well at the bottom of the laundry basket? You’d stashed them there weeks ago, right before he came home earlier than expected—just before you could wash them. 

You hadn’t even realized they were missing!

*Sniff* “M’s-so s-sorry M-Mommy, I-I know i-tt’s wrong—j-just miss you s’much when *sniff* m’gone for so l-long… n’these smell s’much like you n’have your b-blood on ‘em a-and—”

Is this real life!?

Choso’s mournful apologies are blubbering out of him a mile a minute but your thoughts go to hell at the debauched truth. Taking shallow breaths, you’re mindlessly caressing the pads of your fingers over your clothed cunt, eager to relieve any of the ache.

“—Uh—um, C-Choso, baby…?”

Even though he’s still rambling, your voice quiets him.

“Y-yeah, Mommy?”

Fuck! 

The hand stroking over your pussy urgently fumbles under the waistband of your shorts and panties to rub on your clit directly now.

He couldn’t just call you Mommy like this and expect you not to be soaked! (Even if it’s your fault he is).

Silently praying that Choso couldn’t hear the soft clicking of your fingers sliding inside your drooling folds to play with your slippery lil’ bud.

Yeah, you were horrible alright—yet you were also horny as hell. 

An unexpected turn of events for sure, but there’s no way you couldn’t see this through now. Especially now that he was full on calling you ‘Mommy’ and had just admitted to stealing your panties! 

So he’d liked you all this time after all?! 

Finding out more was becoming an essential need akin to breathing air.

“T-Tell Mommy something, yeah Cho baby? W-What exactly do you do with Mommy’s panties?”

Looking at his feet, the embarrassment on Choso’s face speaks for itself as he turns his back to the door in shame.

Likewise, you peel yourself from behind the door, leaning against the adjacent wall for additional support as your other hand hurriedly pushes up your top to tweak at your nipples. 

Getting off on the mere mental image of his chagrin and the pitiful whimpers you can hear through the door as Choso starts explaining through his tearful sobs his filthy thieving actions.

Shit—he’s such a horney little freak about it too!

Choso reluctantly admits that due to his heightened senses of being a half-curse he can always smell when you’re bleeding (Yuji also had to assure him there was nothing wrong with you).

Once he’d discovered the pair you left in the basket, Choso couldn’t help himself. 

And they weren’t the first pair he’d taken either. 

Choso had pilfered many sets of your undies to sniff while he hurriedly jerked his cock. Admitting to you sometimes just being around you for too long causes him to get hard. He’d rush to the bathroom and dig through your laundry, scouring for a pair of your panties or thongs like a mad man before resting them directly over his lips and nose. Finally at ease, the bathroom was his refuge and Choso ultimately would bathe his senses in your scent more than he would use the bathroom to actually bathe his body. 

Never lasting too long, Choso would cum all over his trembling hands from perversely sniffing and tonguing down the dirtied gusset of your panties.

If there were times Choso thought he was being too noisy, he’d stuff them in his mouth entirely. Sucking out the sweet tang of your cunt from the fibers and imagining it was your actual pussy his mouth was full of instead. 

Being the considerate roomie he is though, Choso would always clean them. Your panties would be returned to you, washed and folded and placed in your drawer before you could notice them missing.

Near hyperventilating now, Choso’s face is saturated in tears. He's so scared of your reaction. Surely, even if you two were dating you’d still hate him for the huge violation of privacy.

But if he’d known you were dating before, he’d have at least asked you for permission! 

“...M-M-Mommy—are you mad?”

Mad? 

Well you were madly finger popping your pussy to his depraved as fuck confession, if that counted as mad.

By the end of his perverse admission of guilt, you had slid all the way down to the floor. Trying to bite back cries as you are two fingers deep into your cunt. Pumping your soaked digits in and out of your pussy. No longer able to hold back, you are moaning aloud. 

“AHH, FUHH!”

The steamy twisted visions in your mind replay over and over, imagining him in those stupidly sexy gray sweats stroking himself while munching your panties like a fiend. 

Truthfully, the fantasy is doing you in badly and trumped everything else for you.

You haven't been this wet in ages and if he was getting off to your panties, it’s only fair you got off to him owning up to it—right?

“Um, M-Mommy…are y-you okay?”

Choso’s brow furrows when you don’t respond. 

Turning back around, he listens intently for any reply. Head cocking to the side when Choso can only hear muffled cries and the messy sounds of something wet squelching behind the door.

Suddenly, a cold panic sets in for Choso—you said he was already home! 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Choso had been so focused on the whole boyfriend and dating reveal he’d completely overlooked that very important detail. He'd been with Yuji for the past week, so it couldn’t have been him, it had to be—a doppel.

You had let in a doppelganger?

Was he in there with you now?

Were you hurt? Is that why you weren’t answering him?

You didn’t sound hurt before but you certainly do now…well maybe not hurt exactly, but extremely distressed at the very least.

“MOMMY, ANSWER ME!!!”

Choso’s anxious cry did capture your attention but unfortunately only fueled the sense of urgency in your fingers thrusting messily into your sopping cunt.

Holy shit—and the wretchedly pathetic way he just called you ‘Mommy?’ 

You know you’re so fucked up for getting off on tormenting poor Choso like this, but his confession was so fucking hot and pretty fucked all on its own. 

There’s no way in hell you could stop now!

How long has it been even since you last orgasm? You couldn’t even remember, your head floating in the haze of a thick pleasurable fog. Regardless the actual length of time the answer was still that it had been too fucking long. 

“AH-AH—SHIIIIIIIT!” 

So close!

Your hand pulling at your nipples joins your other down your pants. The fingers not plunging in your tight slippery core are scrawling urgent cursive patterns over your sensitive nub, unconsciously spelling out Choso’s name on your clit over and over.

Your toes curl as you chew on your lip, the rope in your belly pulls taunt ready to snap when—

BAMMMMMM!!!

Choso barrels through the door and barrier—flowing red scale activated. 

The door itself barely hangs on its hinges as it ricochets back into place (yeah that was def coming out of your deposit for sure).

Scaring you half to death, orgasm thwarted, you can only stare at Choso as rage you’d never seen before is etched all over his face. Yet still his concern for you is evident in rapid fire questions he shoots at you faster than you can even process with your mind still swimming in your lingering arousal.

“ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“WHERE IS HE?!”“DID HE HURT YOU?!”

“HE HURT YOU—I’LL KILL ‘EM!”

Pacing around your apartment frantically, Choso abruptly comes to a stop once he senses that you are the only two in the apartment. 

There’s no doppelganger terrorizing you.

The both of you are panting—Choso from his battle-ready stance, blood congealing off the edges of the vivid crimson barbed arrows on his flustered cheeks—and you, panting from the shock of him bursting through the door, making your core to clench and pulse to the beat of your skyrocketing heart rate.

Stuck like a deer in headlights, you swallow thickly. You’re not sure how much time passes—it feels like hours, though it’s likely only been a few minutes. 

Regaining enough of your wits to remember the compromising position you are in, you slowly begin to pull your hands out of your shorts. The movement catches Choso’s eye, his vision narrowing in on your hands and fixes on the glimpse he receives of the large moist spot leaking through your cute yellow sleep shorts.

“W-W-Wait!”

Breath stuttering in a bit of a tizzy, Choso drops to his knees before you the second it clicks what you were doing. All thoughts of your obvious lies gone, the arousing perfume wafting off your cunt slaps him upside the head and severely cripples his ability to process the entire situation. 

It smells so-so much more sweet and potent than the stale remnants he’d get from your used panties!

You remain all the while still against the wall, his bigger form towers over you, effectively trapping you between the surface and his massive erection. The hard-on Choso sports proudly pokes through his baggy hakama pants. Yet he's so transfixed on the moisture glimmering on your soft thighs, he doesn’t realize he’s even showing it off to you—you do notice, however, quite a lot.

Fuck, you’d never seen him hard before he was so big!  

“C-can I see?” 

Choso’s voice meekly squeaks out, his tone becoming pitchy as he chews on his bottom lip and wipes his slick clammy palms off on his pants.

Oh shit, he’s so fucking cute you could eat him right the fuck up.

And unknowingly Choso was thinking the same thing about you—wishing you’d let him in sooner.

Why were you doing this without him? 

He was your boyfriend right? He could have been helping you with this.

Did you think he’d not want to do this with you? 

Did you not want to do it with him?

Yet Choso doesn’t get the opportunity to voice any of these concerns as his mind turns to goo when your pink tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. Nodding affirmatively, you gently shimmy your pj shorts down.

Your heart is beating so hard in your ears right now.

You know a conversation needs to be had and that you have to tell him the truth—fess up and come clean. 

Although all of that seemed so small and irrelevant compared to the very large cock thumping against Choso’s thigh and the pertinent fluttering of your pussy—she’s not letting you forget how badly you still want to cum for a second.

If anything you were just happy more than anything he was just as big, if not a bigger, sexually repressed degenerate as you are.  The fact that you both wanted each other would be good enough for now which was more than evident in Choso’s eyes—crazed with excitement and following your every move.

He most definitely keenly whines like an injured puppy. As if the sight of you spreading your thick thighs open to reveal the pretty pair of mesh and silk panties, with a sizable expanding wet spot over your core, pains him and he trembles. 

“Mmm, is it okay if I…?”

Neither you nor Choso is quite sure what he’s asking permission for but you give it to him regardless.

Your body jumps slightly when you feel his shaky grasp touch your warm skin just above your knees. Trying to calm himself proves futile the higher Choso’s palms stumble upwards to rest on your inner thighs. 

The audible puff Choso breathes out seeing with his own eyes the pretty shape and color of your glistening cunt through the wet mesh material.

Lowering his face closer to your core, Choso unabashedly takes the biggest whiff of your lewd aroma. His eyes roll back as he moans sensually. His warm breath and flicks of his drool gust over your quivering cunt which has your hips eagerly tipping forward to offer yourself up to him on a platter.

“Cho?”

The neediness is evident in your wanton tone and Choso’s eyes perk up toward you, expectantly, wide-eyed obedience like a hungry dog before it's rewarded with a tasty treat.

“What you said you did to my panties, Cho?—m’do it like that baby.”

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

“OHHH GAWD—F-FUCK!”

Choso’s iron hold spreads your doughy thighs apart as his face imposes itself deeper into the fabric covering your creamy cunt, not allowing you to wiggle yourself loose. 

When you told Choso to eat you like he did your panties you didn’t expect he’d actually keep them on you!

You’re discovering just how much Choso liked chewing on your panties—on or off you apparently. You’d tease him for the fetish if he’d ever pause to come up for air and give your poor lil’ puss a break from the carnal torrent of his feverish tongue. 

Head bobbing back and forth in a rhythm all of its own, Choso is quite literally crying into your pussy, deliriously whimpering unintelligible praises of her—with no sign of stopping. At his complete mercy, your hands hold on to pigtails like reigns, except no amount of pulling gets Choso to put heel to his rampage—in fact it does the opposite.

Choso is obsessed with the whole of you—every shiver, twitch or cry he elicits from you encourages him to draw out even more.

How could he not be? 

Especially with the delectable dish before him consisting of your translucent soggy panties gluing itself to the exact shape of your smooth inner folds and puffy clit. Completely saturated, a build up of slick, spit and tears suds atop the mesh creating sloppy spit bubbles in the wake of his mouth’s crazed motions. Bubbles which Choso eagerly slurps up again like a man who's been parched for days. 

And truly he is—not wanting to remove his head between your heavenly thighs for even a moment lest he wake and discover this all to be a hallucination. He didn’t want to ever go back to only imagining this kind of bliss.

“Soooo g-good..GOD—S-Such…AH—g-good boy, Cho.”

Lost in the sauce of your sweet pussy, Choso gleefully continues—languid in his exploration but purposeful, you feel every flex of his dexterous muscle quivering in your pussy as he licks you from your swollen outer lips and into the folds of your inner labia. 

Choso commits every groove of your cunt to his memory. 

Only once you tense enough, arching your back and digging your nails into his cranium to push him towards her will Choso finally pay attention to your clit— his thick spongy tongue flattens, ensuring its soft bump texture scrapes across each and every nerve in your sensitive fleshy bundle. He’s feverishly making out with your bud to the point of making your actual mouth jealous.

Fuck, he was eating you like a pro and you haven’t even properly kissed him yet!

His skills are a total 180 degree shift from how novice he was just an hour earlier.

Obviously inexperienced, Choso’s first inclination was to latch his entire mouth over your clothed cunt, sucking and licking aimlessly, which honestly tickled at first more than anything.

Yet being the fast-learning good boy he is, Choso takes your instructions as well as your nonverbal cues to heart. Checking in with you often, his eyes darted up to you with innocent coos of ‘How does it feel, Mommy?’ reverberating into your core. 

Not only does Choso take direction well, he proactively improvises. 

You weren’t expecting him to start humming on your clit when you instructed him to suck it directly. Playing you like a harmonica, shaking his head and alternating between sucking and blowing. The insane waves vibrated into your cunt to stimulate every single pleasure point. 

You’d never gotten eaten out so desperately before, let alone with your underwear still on!

More caring with your pleasure than his own, Choso has already pulled two mind-bending orgasms out of you. Dining on your savory cunt like it's his last meal, Choso’s greediness while drowning in your pussy is steadily taking you to number three. 

To say Choso is pussy-drunk at the moment would be a massive understatement. 

Choso is worshiping you like he had found God in your gooey lips and as far as he was concerned he has. Relentlessly grinding against the floor, shuddering and moaning into your cunt he’d gladly pray into your pussy as much as you’d let him, swirling his tongue as far as he could into your cute hole winking against your soggy panties. 

From the noises he makes you think he’s already found enough pleasure of his own to soil his pants.

And you’re absolutely right.

Frantically rubbing his dick against your shared apartment’s plush carpet, the absolute elation he feels to finally taste you after all this time combined with the scratchy friction of the fibers prove too much for his needy virgin cock to bear. 

Nevertheless, that doesn’t slow him, uncaring about the uncomfortable stickiness caking between his legs when his head is still very occupied between yours.

“Shiiiit, ah—fuh—W-waiiiit, baby…Chos—OH!”

Stomach clenching, eye rolling ecstasy takes over when his canine accidentally swiped over your overstimmed clit. The tension finally snaps and your legs jerk with the prickly pleasure of tingles running through them. Your lashes splash away the stream of tears filling your eyes from the third orgasm Choso has studiously pulled from you.  

Choso shows no sign of stopping and while you’d happily let your little eater go to town on you all night, your pussy is screaming at you—you needed him to fill her up.

It takes all your strength to pry Choso’s face out of your cunt. His flushed cheeks are drenched and he appears dazed, a dreamy gaze in his eyes before distress instantly etches his features upon realizing he wasn’t suffocating himself in your pussy any longer.

“Nooo, Mommy pleaaaasuh! She’s s’p-pretty n s’creamy—s’wet… l-let me go back, kay?”

His deranged affectionate whines spur you to tug on his hair harder, keeping his attention focused on your face as you pose to him the question that has him ready to cum in his pants all over again.

“I know Cho, your mouth is s’good at getting Mommy’s pussy messy. But baby, don’t you wanna wet your dick in your girlfriend’s pussy next?”

Dumbstruck, Choso never considered that an option. 

“Or are you just satisfied with stewing in your own cum filled pants?”

Truly, he would have been happy just setting up camp all night with his face lodged in your cunt. Yet you flipped the lights on in his mind again, reminding him of how much he’d wanted to feel you on his cock knowing it would be so much better than his calloused hands stroking him.

With a series of dopey headshakes, Choso is scrambling to remove his robes. 

“Sorry, m’sorry!”

You couldn’t laugh at Choso for nearly falling over himself enthusiastically trying to shed his clothes, not when you’re just as wound up. Buzzing with lust, you're openly drooling seeing the massive stain on Choso’s white hakama as he sits back on his knees. Pushing down his pants, Choso’s cock rebounds bobbing back towards his belly and leaving glimmering traces of the prior mess he’s made. 

You knew he was big but holy shit—he’s too fuckin baby girl to be carrying around such a deadly daddy weapon in his pants. It makes rock hard length all the more intimidating the way his mushroomy tip reddens as the pearly streams of his essence flow over the heavy vein swaying his cock forward.

“If you really mean it, then apologize to Mommy with your cock for wasting all her cum in those pants of yours.”

You’re way past the line of going too far already. 

You know you are playing with fire teasing him like this, especially since the thick lines of his ability still activated even if the barbs were no longer on his face. He’d literally split you in two if he went too fast—and yet?

A part of you wanted him to break you.

Hovering over your form, like you were a delicate object while helping you pull off your last remaining articles of clothing. There's a mixture of both of your fluids webbing to your cunt as your panties—now destroyed with little holes scattering them from Choso him furiously gnawing on them like a teething puppy— are gingerly peeled off your skin.

Seeing you completely naked, Choso is stunned stupid. 

Utterly stuck, he’s biting his inner cheek hard so he doesn’t cum just from the sight of you from your warmed cheeks, pert nipples, quivering belly and pussy glossy from leaking a steady stream of drool.

“Y-You’re perfect!”

Choso blurts out and you think you can feel the thumping in your pussy all the way up in your eardrums as you overload on his adorableness. 

Spreading your legs wider you allow him to settle between your thighs, your hips slightly strain from accommodating his large body that completely dwarfs yours as Choso presses ope your thighs again. 

His anticipation visible, Choso’s upper body is trembling, biting down on his lip as he cautiously runs his angry cockhead down your soaked slit.  

“Shiiiiiiit.”

Drawing back Choso hesitates, the feel of even your pearly gland against his tip is almost too much.

“Umm, Y-You know what you’re doing Cho? I can get on—”

“NO! Um, y-yeah… I mean, I’d want that it’s, uh—I-I wanna make you feel good first if that’s okay, Mommy?”

Choso mumbles shyly, a determined look behind his bashefulness—so fuckin cute!

Oh yeah, you couldn’t wait for your turn to eat him the fuck up.

You’d settle for his lips though, tasting yourself on them you share your first real kiss while Choso is sinking inside your gummy core. The kiss doesn’t last long, only faintly grazing your tongue against his own before Choso is choking into your mouth. Unable to savor the kiss as he can’t even control the movement of his lips, just sneaking the very tip inside you near paralyzes him with pleasure.

Too warm, too wet and the fit much too tight—so it’s no surprise that when his hips dare to venture only a tiniest bit forward he's immediately cumming inside you with broken wails and sobs. 

“M’sorry! M’sorry! M’sorry!”

Your mind is elsewhere, still delayed from your pussy getting stretched so wide from the mere girth of the cockhead just minutes after getting eaten like a last meal on death row—so you didn’t even consider how fast he would cum once he was inside you.

Telling him to pull out now would be pointless, especially considering how incredibly turned on you are by him shaking like a leaf from just putting his tip inside. Trying to thursy into you further has him collapsing down and crying nonsense into your neck. 

A small smile is on your lips as you soothe him, amused with your pussy being Choso’s personal kryptonite. Hooking your arms under his, you stroke his shoulder blades whispering assurances.

“Just breathe Cho”

You’re also relishing the break it also gave you time to adjust, you were so full just from taking half of him. Your walls are slowly learning to accommodate his girth and clench around him, sucking him further in causing him to keen pitchy little moans as the pool of slobber increases down your nape.

Shit. You’re craving more.

You didn’t want to rush him as you can tell how just the smallest crumb of pussy has him in shambles, but your insides might burn up entirely if he didn’t start moving soon. 

Your gentle touch slick with the sweat beading on his broad chiseled back, roams down until you reach his hips. Nails digging into the sides of his glutes for grip, you pull his pelvis forward and down. Teaching him just how to fuck you, you lead his twitching length deeper into your pussy before guiding his hips back up then down again. 

Frankly, you think Choso might bust again from the deep groan he sighs when his long cock knocks against your cervix, fully sheathed in you. But your good boy proves to be a quick study yet again and it only takes a few cycles of training his hips before Choso adapts to a steady consistent rhythm on his own.

His eyes are screwed shut though, knowing from the videos he watched you wouldn’t be satisfied unless he could last longer for you. Certainly Choso would nut if he caught a glimpse of how nicely the peaks of your stiff nipples were bouncing or the lewd splash of creamy fluids from your cunt edging up your churning tummy like a tide. 

It was almost too much on its own that Choso could still taste the sweet tang of your cunt on his lips knowing his cock was buried so deeply in her. Choso’s oral fixation getting the best of him, the desire to suck on all parts of you rose as he scoops you up slightly, arms wrapped around your back propping your chest up towards his mouth so he can suckle on your tiddies.

When Choso inevitably makes the mistake of opening his eyes. Your sweet face, twisted in rapture, eyes fluttering back in a way that nearly matches the fluttering of your cunt around him undoes him again.

Choso just loves you too much.

“G-Gonna cum, again—m’sorry Mommy! G-GUHHHHHHH. P-Pussy too good. Never wanna leave—never gonna leave your perfect pussy, Mommy. I’ll stay inside you like this.”

Deranged in ecstasy, head burrowed in the safe haven in your tits, Choso’s declarations feel more like threats. Mouth is still full of tiddy, Choso coos out more promises of loving you and your pretty pussy so good like you deserve and making up for the months he could have been doing this.

“C-Cho, baby, pull out if you’re g-gonna—”

Too late.

To his credit Choso, wasn't even doing it on purpose. His body is in auto mode. Your cunt crippling his brain too badly for him to have any real control and Choso fucking you more like a curse than a human in the moment.

You’d asked for it with your teasing though, you thought as another load of viscous warmth blooms into your guts. Initially you figured no harm since it was his first time, but you’re now  losing count of the many times Choso has battered your puffed pussy into another orgasm and in turn busted in you. 

Obscene sounds squelch out of your pretty pussy, his cum making it even easier for him to frantically buck his hips to slam against your g-spot with every thrust—growing wholly addicted to the feeling of sliding in and out of you. 

His desperation for you has Choso manhandling you into different positions, all which you have Yuji and Todo to thank for sending him all their fap material. You didn’t know that though and you didn’t have time to wonder either when Choso has zero regard for the flexibility some of these positions require, yet obediently it’s your body bends to his will. 

Your head is drowning in euphoria from getting fucked so savagely, it takes a while to realize that you’ve changed positions again. Now on your stomach, ass up and shoulder being held down as Choso is using your creamy pulverized cunt like his own personal fleshlight. 

Your limbs feel weak and you’re cumming so hard now it’s almost painful, Choso reaches around to strum your abused clit while biting into your neck.

“One more time, Mommy! Please let me fuck you, one more time!”

Unfortunately for your poor pummeled pussy, that one more time was 3 rounds ago and your new boyfriend hasn’t gone soft yet—likely thanks to his blood manipulating abilities.

But since you manipulated Choso and yourself into a 3 month relationship it’s only fair he manipulates his cock into staying hard—right?

Choso has to make up for an entire 3 months of not fucking you tonight.

Good luck with that!

......RESULT: INCONCLUSIVE. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜—𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 '𝙼𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚢'.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

i did not mean for it to be this long but got carried away as this the first time ive written virgin!choso.

comment and reblog! next up nanami, reworking it bit thats why I delayed it.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

[toast-on-dandelioms]

🕷️Just Another Neglected Story🕷️

[previous] - Part 4.1 - [next]

Any names that you find familiar, in this part, were taken (with permission) from the fanart made by @the-broken-truth, while some changes like description of what's happening were made by me then modified by my beta reader, my bbg, Jamie.

tw: Joker, angst/no comfort, small description of injuries, small description/mention of a panic attack (I am unsure if it was that, please tell me if I am wrong).

Weeks passed with you still being Spider and a 'normal' teenager at the same time. But some changes and new things happened in these weeks.

You got visited by Superman almost daily, or nightly since he always visited when you were patrolling at night. You never questioned how he knew where to find you, you didn't want to think about it and just let him follow you during your nightly patrols.

He also helped you train while using all of your strength because you usually held back in fear of hurting people, so his tips helped a lot  considering that he also had the same problem before.

Furthermore, now that you started to help with small problems around Gotham, like small thefts and gang problems, those problems started to slowly stop, giving you more time to train with Superman and help around the community.

You still didn't join the Bats or even the Justice League whenever Superman tried to propose it, you just didn't want to fight big shots like Joker or other super villains.

You liked doing small things and loved seeing the change it brought from you helping.

Just defeating super villains won't reward you with a pie from the nice old lady after helping her move her things in the apartment and give her groceries if she can't go to the supermarket, or getting drawings of little kids after you help them go home safely.

You also scored candies whenever the moms had them, which made you incredibly happy because they always had the candies you loved. 

So you were happy, especially since Alfred never mentioned your breakdown after that night and kept on the usual routine of leaving your food on the desk in your room so you wouldn't have to come down to the kitchen.

You did notice him acting a bit weird but you pushed those thoughts aside since you didn't really notice anything weird happening around the Manor so you thought he was just nervous for something Bruce did.

You gave him too much trust and sooner than later you will regret doing that.

But something did change around the Manor, you just didn't notice because you started to walk on the ceiling, without shoes or Alfred would kill you, to avoid annoying encounters with anyone in the house, even if listening to music while on the ceiling was a bit difficult but you’re managing.

Well, Alfred knew that if he walked to Bruce and told him about you and what you felt he would've been ignored, especially since Bruce barely remembers that you even exist in the Manor and that you're a member of the family.

And even if Bruce did remember that you exist he would be annoyed, especially since he clearly hated your mother and was only paying the child support because he had to, especially since your mother threatened to take him to court if he wouldn't pay when he first got the news.

Talking to any of the batkids would've also been useless, because he also knew that no one in the Manor remembers you, especially now that you could walk on walls no one could even see you.

He couldn't count how many times he almost got a heart attack whenever he could see you on the ceiling, just hanging out or doing your homework, even though he still didn't understand how you could work without gravity making everything fall.

So he decided to do it in small steps, starting with leaving photos of you around the house in places where everyone sees them.

He put almost every picture that he owns of you, like you at a dance recital as the lead dancer or you at a science fair to which you won first place with an invention of yours.

One thing Alfred knew by putting your photos was that every person would notice how in all your photos you were alone and how your face never showed any emotion.

He knew it was small but he couldn't wait anymore, he needed to take action now or before you decided to leave for the Kent family, he couldn't let you go after he heard you talk about Clark and Conner while he made food in the kitchen.

He just hoped it wasn't too late for you, especially with your break down. He hoped you could still let someone in after all these years of being alone.

He did try his best but he was only a butler and he couldn't change someone's view of another person if that view was filled with hatred.

And you never noticed thanks to your walking on the ceiling or walls, moreover, you couldn't care less if they actually noticed you now. You were finally moving on and having a new start thanks to Spider.

But now it's not the time to think of Alfred's attempt of getting you acknowledged by the family, you were getting busier thanks to all the work as Spider, school and also dance classes.

You also kept on using yourself as a test subject, just to check the process of the spider DNA that's now in your DNA and seeing if anything changed or you had some mysterious new powers, taking videos to record the process of your evolution with the now Spider DNA in your body.

One thing you acquired after a while was invisibility, or camouflage as you called it since invisibility sounded magical and you didn't want it to sound like you were a kid.

How you found out you could use it was not a good experience.

You were in the kitchen with Alfred, just hanging out with him while he cooked when Damian suddenly entered the room to ask Alfred for some food for a new pet that he adopted.

In your panic at the sheer thought of Damian seeing you and hurting you like he did in the past made you freeze up, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes that he would just disappear from existence. Praying to every god you could recall that Damian wouldn't find you, you tried to not breathe too loudly so he wouldn’t hear you.

After a few minutes of paranoia passed and you didn't hear anything around you, you slowly opened your eyes and saw Damian still waiting for Alfred to give him the food for a cat he adopted and completely ignoring you.

You were still scared he would see you so you stayed silent and waited patiently, albeit apprehensively, for him to go away before actually making a sound, which was a loud sigh of restrained relief as air poured back into your lungs. Somehow you hadn't noticed that you'd been holding your breath the whole time. Strange.

You slowly got down from the counter you were sitting on and walked up to Alfred, confused as to why the old man wasn't looking at you and instead was looking at the ceiling before softly calling out his name.

You got even more confused and slightly worried when he got scared since you were standing right in front of him but he, for some reason, couldn't see you.

After a bit of Alfred trying to explain that he couldn't actually see you and you not understanding why, you finally managed to make yourself visible.

You quickly went to work at the corporation to take a few tests to see what happened and didn't see anything with those tests but after a few days of trying to understand what happened and how you could make it happen again, you managed to go invisible on command.

It took a bit but you managed to do it, which got extremely useful to sneak into the kitchen when you need to get some snacks in the middle of the night so that Alfred doesn't catch you on the wall eating chips at 3 am.

Plus thanks to that time you found out that your eyes glow in the dark, which was a bit weird since the spider that bit you wasn't a bioluminescent one but you figured it was your own DNA that changed some things.

In the time following that discovery and training with Clark, you slowly started to join him in solo missions for the Justice League, but made sure to tell him that you didn't want to partner up with another person except him.

And you made sure that he knew you weren't an official member of the Justice League or of the Young Justice League, you just joined him so you wouldn't get rusty since Gotham is still filled with crime but fighting with teens or men who just swing a crowbar or knife is not really challenging.

You didn't want anyone except Clark to join those solo missions, not because you were scared of hurting another person since you learned to control your strength thanks to him and got pretty good with your spider senses.

You just hated being around people you didn't know or trust, especially if they were a member of the Wayne family, you absolutely detested them.

You refused to look at them and especially talk to them even though you had the voice modulator.

One of the many reasons you used the voice modulator was to not get recognised but also because you hated your own voice and the voice modulator helped when talking to lost kids or just kids in general.

You never told anyone why you hate your voice, you just refused to talk one day and learned asl to communicate with people and also used notes if people didn't know asl.

The mask was like a hearing aid, it changed your voice and helped you use it more so you could talk sometimes.

As time passed, the birdies (basically all of Bruce's kids, you just called them all bird to show how much you didn't care about them) kept on trying to talk to you and showing up where you were when you were patrolling.

You had a list of most annoying to less annoying since you couldn't really do much about them, especially since Clark forbade you to throw another one of them off a roof if they got too close to your liking or just breathed wrong.

They never sustained grave injuries since you always threw them to another building or a dumpster, or to Superman if he was around.

Most of the time in a dumpster to make yourself smile since you would take a photo then swing away before they could do anything, but they started to pose whenever you would take a photo, making you annoyed and ruining your fun.

The most annoying was Dick, with how persistent he was even if he was stuck on a wall thanks to your webs when he got too close or made you uncomfortable by continuing to call you nicknames that he would use with Damian and Tim.

You hated how he would just laugh and call you his little sibling, especially since he would never call you that if you didn't have a mask on and you felt that it was unfair that he suddenly cared about you just because of the mask.

It made you feel like you were getting ignored and forgotten once again but this time to a version of you that he likes while the one behind the mask is always getting ignored.

Just like at the Manor, the real you will never be appreciated and accepted with love.

The second most annoying in the list is Tim, it was gonna be Damian but Tim took second place with how creepy he is around you and how he knows too much of what you do.

Like, you knew he's the one who knows everything about every hero and villain since you saw him work on the bat-computer while you were stealing a few grappling hooks for your web shooters since they broke. (You were invisible and you got lucky that Cassandra wasn't there or she would've found you immediately.)

But seeing him open a folder and watching how many videos and photos he has of you in the bat-computer, like when you were fighting some gang members or when you were helping some nice old lady crossing the street.

If anyone else showed you their collection of you doing badass or just normal stuff while you were a vigilante then you would've felt impressed and very honored because you never thought someone would actually go out their way to be a fan of you.

But seeing Tim, someone you still had some respect for, having so many files, especially from when you first started and hit so many walls while swinging around made you weirded out and somehow violated, especially with how concentrated he was while staring at the videos.

Seeing that folder and all the information he had on you made you lose all the respect you still had for the boy.

Another thing he did was that, whenever you met him while patrolling or eating a few hot dogs with your favorite guy, he would always talk of things you did like he was there and creeped you out so much that you had to restrain yourself from throwing him off a roof or wherever you two were.

Most of the time you just tased him and went your way, paying the hotdog guy a little extra so he wouldn't stop selling you hot dogs.

You're also starting to think that hot dog guy is using you for the tips since you always tip him 50$ or more to stay silent and let you grab more hot dogs from him.

Third annoying but still so annoying that you want to punch his face is Damian. Mostly because he treats you like you're his older sibling.

Like he respects you and looks up to you. But you knew it was because of the mask since you also knew that if you ever took off the mask in front of him he would try to kill you.

You have to be supervised by Clark and even Jon since your only solution to get rid of Damian when he’s around you is throwing him off a roof without worrying about not using your super strength.

You hated the kid and didn't really hide it but he never said anything about it since he thought you two were bonding and you acting like you hate him is normal.

You wanted to tase him when he dared to call you his older sibling in Arabic, hating the look on his face that had so much adoration and admiration for you since it actually made him look like a normal teen.

(You learned some Arabic to get close to Damian when you found out where he was from when you were young)

Like he didn't create so many scars on your arms and legs with his sword and those batarangs. Like he didn’t make you so afraid of the Manor that Alfred had to assure you that he wouldn’t hurt you or you would get a panic attack by getting near the Manor.

Least annoying but still annoying is Jason Todd. You hate that mask he wears because you can't see his face and know what he’s really thinking about, and especially how he acts like you two are two old friends who meet up everyday.

You hate how he pats you on the head when you're distracted, since the spider sense doesn't really deem him a threat for you, and manages to evade your attempts to kick him away or throw him off a roof, laughing whenever you try to do so.

Like you two were just playing and you weren't angry at him and wanting to throw something at him but couldn't.

So your one solution was ignoring him and walking to the side of the building so he wouldn't reach you since he couldn't walk on walls like you.

Which did make you smug whenever he complained about it on the roof of the same building, finding it funny when he acted all offended when he understood you were smug by how you were acting even if your mask didn’t show your face.

Yea you and Jason did get along sometimes, most of the time if you were having a nice day and if he was the first one you would meet of the birds.

You had a decent relationship with Jason, yes you did have fun sometimes but you wouldn't call him a friend or even your brother.

Plus you never forgot about the years he would ignore you and especially when he punched you in the eye and didn't even apologize decently.

Or how he would complain about how terrible of a father Bruce is, or how annoying Dick is to anyone else while you would just stand there, completely ignored since he was probably talking to someone else or to himself.

And acted like he was the only one who's life was 'ruined' when Bruce got in his life when he's still loved even after everything he's done.

Even though he's still remembered every Christmas and given big gifts that means that the person who bought them thought of him, and birthday while no one even remembered you had a birthday and you always celebrated it with a cupcake or some friends.

So you preferred to ignore him or you would punch his skull if he tried to complain one more time about Batman and his death.

Not like Cassandra, Duke and Stephanie were any better.

Cassandra was annoying because of how silent she was. You always managed to see her but you knew she wanted you to see her.

Plus, 'hanging out' with her was just you doing your usual stuff while she followed since you couldn't push her away like the others.

And fighting wasn't in the option since she could kick your ass with just a hand and without moving, so you just ignored her, even though your spider sense was always going crazy when she was around since she was a walking threat.

Even five minutes with her would give you the worst headaches that you had to ask her to stand very far or you wouldn't be able to even walk around without wanting to puke.

You hated her because she was taken in by Bruce like you but instead of being hated because of her upbringing, she got accepted with open arms and he always loved her.

What did she have that you didn't?! Why does she get all the attention and love you always wished for while you're getting forgotten and hated?!

You saw her getting accepted, getting all the love you always wished for, seeing your father going to her dance recitals while he didn't even bother to even acknowledge that you do the same sport as her but in a different and smaller dance studio since you couldn't afford to go to the one Cassandra goes because of how expensive even one lesson was.

Stephanie was another person you hated. You knew of her past, you used the bat-computer whenever no one was in the batcave when you managed to control the invisibility.

You knew about what her dad did. You understood her reasoning to become a vigilante. You didn't hate her for her past, god you didn't even care who her father was.

You just hated her because of how loved she was by everyone. She was like Cassandra but once again, all the love was going towards the two and it never even touched you.

You did try to bond with her when you arrived at the Manor but she did look like she wanted to be everywhere but not with you.

Even when you only talked about things you knew she loved, it still wasn't enough for her. She still avoided you and preferred to spend time with either Barbara, Dick or Tim.

And after a bit you gave up and let her live her life without you in her way since she clearly didn't care about you.

The worst part was that everyone prefers Spider than you, since she also keeps trying to hang out with you when you're patrolling or spending time with kids and teens.

Or getting beat during a game of basketball since you sucked at that game and the teens you played with would tease you which made you laugh since you liked spending time with people the same age as you.

But it would be ruined when she would show up, wanting to play too even though she would just play with you and make it obvious she wanted to make you win.

Which ruined the game entirely for you and always made you leave after a bit with the excuse of being busy as a vigilante, which made the teens and also Stephanie confused.

Duke was the only one of them that you knew tried to hang out with you when you weren't Spider. That's why he was one of the ones you hang out with most if he came to see you while you were patrolling.

He came when you were almost 15, you didn't remember how old you were but you knew he was one of the ones who actually paid attention to you.

But after a while, all his duties as Signal, as a high schooler and as one of Bruce's kids made him too busy for him to spend time with you, to which he explained whenever he was late for something you two planned to do.

And you understood, you cheered for him from the back and always smiled at him whenever he was with you as Signal, even if he couldn't see it. And he did tell you the best places to get food during patrols so you liked him for that, but you remained loyal to the hot dog guy.

But then there was Bruce, acting like he was the savior from his kids that kept annoying you even though he wasn't any better than any of his kids, he was one of the worst in terms of how annoying he was.

He was starting to compete with Dick for the first spot on your list, which you didn't like since you just wanted to be alone, or with Duke and Jason.

Like he would keep on calling you kid and other nicknames you heard him give to his sons over the years, which made you sick because it reminded you of when you were little and that your biggest wish was to also get a nickname like your brothers and sisters and spend time with him as your father even if he never paid any actual attention to you.

But what you hated most was how he always smiled softly at you, even when you tried to kick him away and he would just grab your ankle like it was nothing, like you were his favorite child. Like he didn't tell you that he would never be a father to you when you gave him a father's day card when you were 12 and trying to bond with him.

Looking at you with so much love and adoration, making you disgusted since he was the same man who once looked at you with disgust and hatred just for entering his office because you needed his signature for something.

The same man who clearly told you to not expect him to treat you like his child since you weren't. You were just an annoying kid who had to come to his house since no one else wanted to take you in.

You wanted to puke whenever he looked with love, refusing to forget about everything he did just because you were a child of someone he hated.

You understood why Bruce hated your mother, you couldn't force everyone to like what you like, but you still didn't understand why he had to ruin your life by keeping you with him.

He could have sent you to a foster home, he could have sent you to boarding school all your life so he could never see the face of the one he hates. But he didn't.

No, he decided to accept you in his home and ruined your life, making you miserable by keeping you there and then basically neglecting you and forgetting you even exist.

You wanted to puke whenever he looked at you with love when you were Spider, you had to take so many showers and had to scrub your skin so hard it turned red by how hard you tried to wash away his touch whenever he managed to actually touch you on either the shoulders or head.

You found comfort in Clark since he never forced you to interact with the Robins and Batman and understood why you hated them since you explained to him who you were but didn't tell him everything.

He did annoy you whenever he tried to suggest you to come with him to Metropolis even after you explained that you couldn't just move to another city right in the middle of the school year.

Moreover you were still a minor and you would need Bruce's consent, which you refused to ask since you refused to acknowledge that he was supposed to be your legal guardian.

Plus you always had fun with his kids when they were around since they would throw you in the air and catch you, making you laugh like crazy since their throw was like making you fly for like 2 minutes before catching you.

Conner was more fun to be around because he understood what you were going through since he also had problems with Superman when the kryptonian refused to accept the clone as his son.

Plus he always made the best jokes and made you laugh whenever you would have a bad day after seeing your legal guardian and his kids having a fun outing together while you were at the Manor since they didn't even remember you existed.

Or when you had a bad dance practice and almost destroyed your pointe shoes with your strength because you thought you weren't good enough to be a ballet dancer which spiraled to thinking that because of you not being good at dancing then you weren't good enough to be recognised by your legal guardian and his family.

He was more like an older brother than Dick, Jason and Tim ever were for you. And you didn't even care, you loved him as a brother and loved hanging out with him.

Jon was nice but he was also friends with Damian and you didn't really spend that much time with him because of that. You were scared Damian would be with him and you didn't want to see the evil spawn.

But the times you did hang out with him were nice, he always brought cake that his grandparents made and shared it with you while you listened to him talk about whatever he wanted.

He was fun and very nice but you weren't used to hanging around a small teen who actually wanted to be with you and actively seeked you out for your attention.

You were more used to a small teen who would glare at you and attack you if you dared do anything, even just breathing in his direction, the scars on your arms and back proved that.

But you never said anything to Jon about what his best friend did to you, you didn't want Jon to feel like he had to choose between two sides.

And you knew he would choose Damian's side, no one ever chose your side. You knew no one would even dare to be by your side.

Well after a while of going to missions with Clark and him letting you do most of the work as training with his close by to make sure you wouldn't get hurt, you were finally going on a relatively simple mission with Conner and unfortunately with Jason.

You knew Conner didn't want him there but he probably got Batman to convince Clark and him, so you didn't say anything to him about Jason being there and just stayed by his side while you were in the small ship.

The whole ride was spent in silence, only stopped whenever Conner would check the coordinates or by the sound of you fixing the web shooters to make sure they wouldn't go haywire when you were fighting.

You finally landed in the spot where you were supposed to start your mission, near the villain's lair, if you could call it that since it was an unused bunker a group of cultists found and are now living there, which made you get down eagerly since you wanted to finally do a mission without Clark's supervision.

But your excitement immediately died when you saw Stephanie waiting for you there, making you let out a loud string of curses.

And yes, you did ignore the message on your phone from Clark that said 'language' and just walked past Stephanie and Jason, just wanting to get the mission done and go home with Conner.

Plus he did promise you his grandmother's best pie if you finished the mission and you could not pass up the opportunity of getting another slice of that delicious pie.

As you walked up to the lair with Conner, you patted him on the back before standing in front of the door as Stephanie tried to open it by picking the lock. You waited exactly 10 seconds for Stephanie to unlock the door before pushing her away, kicking the door down with your strength since she was taking too long for your liking.

You didn't even care if they were watching, you just glared at them all in silence for a few seconds before they were able to hear you say.

"Stay here and you two don't follow me, Conner don't try anything or I will tell Clark"

Then, right in front of them you became invisible before walking off, the only sound they could hear were of your sneakers walking down the metallic stairs.

(Switch Pov to Stephanie)

Stephanie knew she wasn't the best person. She knew of her father's evil doings and she knew she wasn't the best Robin or the best vigilante.

But when she saw Spider, she thought that they were perfect. They were always helping people and never too busy for everyone.

She, at first, didn't even know who Spider is because of how busy she was with her life and her vigilante job. But when she saw Tim researching them, she was amazed.

She knew there were other vigilantes in the city, it was a big city but she didn't know about a vigilante who didn't fight big villains like the others.

She saw Spider helping old ladies, stopping small gangs from forming by helping the teens and just being an image for the people to rely on.

She knew Bruce stopped high grade villains like Joker or others but Spider, Spider was different.

They didn't fight Joker, no they just fought the criminals who would bother people that couldn't do anything to stop them.

She admired the vigilante and wanted to be friends with them, maybe one day she could convince them to join her and her family at the Manor.

But what she didn't understand even though she craved to know was why they hated her. Why they hated her and the rest of her family.

She tried so much, she craved their validation so much that she trained so hard and tried so many times to interact with them.

But she would keep on getting ignored or she wouldn't be able to follow them by the speed of them swinging or when they walk on walls to avoid her.

She cried so many nights at the thought of her idol, the one person she wanted, no craved validation would hate her so much when she can't even remember or know why they hate her so much.

But when she heard of Jason joining Spider for their first mission, she was so jealous that she used the bat-computer to check where Spider's mission was supposed to be and followed them in another ship.

She wanted to show to her idol how brave she was, so maybe they will praise her and laugh like when they're with Conner, Clark and Jon.

Plus she wanted to wipe Jason's smirk off his face since he kept on bragging about going to a mission with Spider for days and how he was the favorite since compared to the rest of them, he was the one who Spider stayed the longest before leaving or throwing him off the roof.

But all her excitement and hope died the minute she heard Spider curse when they saw her, her head slowly lowering as she tried not to cry.

And when Spider told them to stay there, god she wanted to protest but strangely Jason held her back and just told her to hack in the security system to watch Spider with the cameras.

She didn't understand why she couldn't follow Spider to help them but did as Jason told her to, watching all the cameras with him and seeing henchmen getting knocked out or tased by Spider even though they weren't visible.

Plus she found it hilarious when a goon got knocked out by a flying metal tray and the others just stood there confused before also getting knocked out by a taser or a punch then getting tied up on a wall or floor.

As she watched the security feed, she noticed that Spider entered the boss's sanctuary, filled with small and useless artifacts that the Justice League used to trace the villain so they could capture him and stop him before he tried to grow his cult or summon some demon.

She kept watching and trying to find a camera inside the sanctuary, starting to get annoyed and also panicking a little because if she couldn't see anything in the sanctuary then she couldn't call for backup if something went wrong, especially by how far Spider was, and even if they were going to help them, it would take too long.

She kept on switching cameras and trying to hack into anything that was electronic, getting more frustrated as time passed since she could see the villain approaching the sanctuary with someone next to him, making her confused since he wasn't supposed to have partners that helped him.

She managed to switch a camera in time to see Joker next to the villain, the blood in her face draining as she stared at the clown on her screen in silence, her eyes wide like bugs and no sound could be heard from all three of the teens.

She went back to where Spider was and noticed a camera was on, to which Stephanie immediately tried to warn them by moving the camera a bit but it was too late and both villains entered the sanctuary and closed the door so Spider wouldn't be able to leave without getting noticed by the cultist and the clown.

She watched the feed without moving any part of her body in terror that if she even moved then the two villains would notice Spider and do something horrible to them.

She gasped when she saw Joker suddenly pulling out a gun and pointing it at where Spider was supposed to be, not managing to hear what he was saying since the cameras were old and didn't register any sounds, plus his psycho-smile made it difficult for her to read his lips so she couldn't even use that to her advantage.

As Stephanie kept watching, not noticing that she was holding her breath by how focused she was on Joker then cursed loudly when she saw the screen turn black, throwing the tablet in anger as she got up, making signs for Jason and Conner to follow as she ran into the lair.

She quickly jumped over any henchmen on the ground, needing to get to Spider immediately and save them.

She had to help. She had to stop that psychopath from hurting them. She needed to protect them.

As she ran, her vision was starting to get blurry by the tears threatening to fall as she ran. As she ran, she suddenly got blocked by the metal door that was blocking her from saving Spider.

She immediately called Conner, wanting to use his strength to open the door but unfortunately he couldn't even throw a decent punch that could leave a dent on it.

Even after a few tries Conner didn't do anything so she started to try to open it by using the panel next to the door, her frustration already growing by how useless he was.

So Stephanie sent Conner outside to call Superman and Batman while she and Jason tried to open the door as they waited for the two heroes to arrive.

As the three of them waited for Batman and Superman to come, Jason and Stephanie saw something coming out the door that made their blood cold.

Some form of gas kept on coming out the door and the only thing they were able to hear were some noises of something or someone getting hit and coughing.

Stephanie did smell the gas, trying to pinpoint what the gas was but she couldn't recognise it since the only thing she could detect was that it had a sweet smell, which was nothing like all the gasses she ever smelled before.

The only thing she knew is that the gas wasn't the usual gas Joker uses on his victims since she wasn't laughing or having a maniacal smile but she still couldn't pinpoint what the gas was.

Stephanie stayed silent, trying not to show how terrified she was while Jason was trying to kick down the door while yelling curses directed at Joker.

Conner was outside the lair to use the ship and communicate with Batman and Superman, knowing they were both on different missions and he couldn't fly to both of them to ask for help, especially since he found out that he couldn't even fly, making him even more desperate for them to come.

As they waited Stephanie tried to make Jason stop punching the door when she saw his knuckles bleed, not wanting another one of her siblings get hurt because of her incompetence before looking at the door.

The blood drained from her face, her knees giving up on her and making her fall to the ground as she heard a scream, the cold metal floor the only thing she could feel at the moment.

She knew the scream couldn't be of Joker. He heard him yell before and this scream wasn't his. She hoped for every god as she tried to hack the panel of the door, even though she already tried before, with a bit of difficulty, her vision starting to blur as tears started to fall and her hands trembling as she was trying to ignore the multiple screams she kept hearing.

She couldn't let Spider get hurt, she should've been there to help them. They didn't deserve the pain and hurt she and almost all of the Robins went through because of Joker.

She stopped when she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder, the realization that she was just messing up the wires and making it even more difficult for the door to be opened when she looked at her hands tangled in between the wires.

She looked up at the man and visibly relaxed, completely giving out on the floor as Jason helped her by cutting the wires tangled in her hands while Batman examined what was happening as Conner explained what he knew, Superman next to him and waiting for Batman to give orders since he knew that if he acted irrationally then Spider would be in danger.

(Switch to Bruce's POV)

Bruce knew he wasn't a good person and a hero like Clark and Diana, that's why he called himself a vigilante since heroes save people and stop criminals but he couldn't save everyone.

Sometimes he was too late and he couldn't save someone innocent that unfortunately crossed ways with a villain or a gang.

Another thing Bruce knew was that he wasn't the best father because he let his kids get hurt by going on patrols with him as a vigilante, not thinking about what could happen to them if they fought someone too strong or if he suddenly decided to make them stop being a vigilante by saying that it was to protect them, which made everyone sneak out to be a vigilante.

He had to bury his children too early because of vigilantism and couldn't help his son when he was being trained by the League of Assassins.

But when he saw Spider for the first time, seeing a child that looked no older than 14, maybe 15, made him think that maybe, maybe he could help this one become the best version of themselves.

And if he was good enough, he could be a father again and get another child saved from the darkness and evil that surrounds Gotham.

Even if the only evil Spider saw was him and his family.

One thing he hated was that he couldn't understand why Spider absolutely loathed him and everyone of the vigilantes who live or have lived under his roof.

He couldn't understand why and even after checking every mission he ever did that included helping kids/teens in Gotham, nothing gave him a lead as to why Spider hated him.

And the worst thing was that Spider decided, out of all the heroes and vigilantes in the world, and especially in the Justice League, to trust and get close to Clark.

To Clark! His enemy! He was supposed to be the one teaching Spider to control their strength! He was supposed to be the one laughing with them while eating hot dogs and sharing funny stories of stupid people they say during patrol.

(He knows about it thanks to a small camera he put on Clark’s costume after he found out that he and Spider got close)

He didn't trust letting them go on a mission even if Clark told him that they could and that they were ready.

He thought it was too early and that they weren't trained to fight villains like he and the others fight everyday, especially with Conner since he wasn't perfectly trained so he managed to convince Clark, with much manipulation and guilt tripping, to let Jason come with them if there was trouble.

He didn't know Stephanie would also be there, especially since he didn't talk about it in the batcave about the mission but he already guessed that Jason bragged about going so she also went to also see her idol, knowing about her obsession with Spider to which he didn't say anything but encourage it with his own obsession towards the arachnid vigilante.

Not that he minded, two of his kids were better than none and Spider needed all the protection necessary even if the mission was one of the easiest possible. Especially since he chose it as a way to make sure Spider wouldn't be in actual danger.

But the moment he got a message from Conner explaining that Spider was in danger because of Joker, someone who wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, made his world crumble as he ran to where his jet was, needing to get there as soon as possible.

He couldn't let another person, no he couldn't let Spider get hurt or worse, killed, by the clown bastard.

He needed to save them, he needed to stop that fucking clown and he couldn't let Clark beat him to it. He knew that if he was the first one to save them, to help them then they would trust him more.

He couldn't lose that huge advantage to Clark or it would be impossible to even be able to get Spider to trust him or any of his kids. Which was already difficult but he saw them being more comfortable with Duke and Jason.

He arrived almost 3 seconds before Clark did, even though the kryptonian made his presence known since he made a crater at his landing and looked extremely infuriated as he walked towards Conner.

Bruce was already next to the boy and listening to his explanation on what happened, his usual frown that always made him seem annoyed with everything since he didn't want to show that he was scared.

He listened to superboy as he explained what happened in detail as they walked in the lair, a small smile appearing on his face whenever he saw henchmen and cultists knocked out and all tied up in Spider's web.

As they walked he noticed Conner and Clark weren't flying even if the space was big enough for them to even float, so he approached the boy, knowing it couldn't be Clark since the kryptonian was flying just two seconds ago, to see if he had anything on him and saw a familiar glowing green stuck to the boy's shirt.

He quickly grabbed it and put it in a container to block its effect since he knew it was kryptonite, the result showing on both kryptonians because they now could fly again.

He showed the container containing the kryptonite when both Supers looked at him "it was on Superboy's shirt, not sure who put it on him" he explained, now confused but especially enraged to who dared to interfere with the mission and put Spider in danger.

When they arrived at the door he saw something that made him frown more but also worried. He saw Stephanie continuing to tangle her hands in the wires of the panel next to the door, probably trying to open it but he saw her shaking and sobbing, making him understand that the girl was too focused on trying to save the vigilante inside the room that she couldn't focus on the task she was doing.

He then turned to Jason and saw him kicking the door and punching it, small dents on it to show how much strength he was putting in it and his bloody knuckles showing for how long he was doing that.

Bruce quickly checked on Stephanie and Jason before telling Superman to get rid of the door, the silence around them being too suspicious and dangerous since almost 2 minutes before they arrived both Stephanie, Conner and Jason could hear screaming from inside the room.

Dividers were made by @cafekitsune so please check them out because they do amazing stuff.

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[honestlywtfisgoingon]

GET A LITTLE LOUD. I DON’T MIND.

—WITH GOJO SATORU

REMEMBER: THE CLASSROOMS AT JUJUTSU HIGH AREN’T EXACTLY SOUNDPROOF…

content: teacher!gojo, teacher!reader, husband!gojo, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, semi-public sex, against the wall, over the desk, creampie, gagging, panty-theft, use of names slut and whore, not proofread

notes: i’m back this is crazyyyy!! i literally wrote every other day and thought about posting but i never finished anything and then all of a sudden it’s been years :O and im back w gojo brainrot. p.s. obi content is still coming but u just gotta be patient sorry i literally am so rusty

words: 3374

“toru! they’re gonna hear you, not me!” you worried your words wouldn’t get past the lewd sounds gojo was making as he rammed his dick in and out of your pussy. he did all this while holding you against the wall of the classroom— where anyone could come in.

“oh, i’m not worried about getting us caught” each of his words was let out between harsh moans, breath heavy as he kept his open mouth pressed against your neck. so he did hear your concern, it just made absolutely no difference to him. there wasn’t even a stutter in his pace, set hard and fast as soon as he slipped inside you only a bit ago.

“then why’re you covering my mouth?” one of his large hands smothered the entire bottom half of your face, but you managed to squeeze your words through the small sliver of space between gojos long fingers just like before.

“because i can actually stop myself from screaming. can you?” he was taunting you, sure, but the truth in it had you blushing. you were a little embarrassed of how easy it was to get a sound out of you. it was hard for you to keep everything in when you were naturally so vocal, and it only got harder the closer you were to coming. satoru always loved the moment he could see your conscious efforts to stay quiet become entirely abandoned in pleasure. once you couldn’t hold back, neither did he, fucking you as hard as he could, until he wrung out every little praise, and whimper, from your pretty throat. when you couldn’t help but shout his name for everyone to hear was his favorite, and he hated having to smother all the noises that always turned him into a horny teenager. he didn’t hold back his own grunts and groans though, letting them out freely in the classroom, which you didn’t think was very fair.

“that’s n-aah!” you couldn’t help but prove him right, a high-pitched moan jumping from your throat when he lifted you up, only to slam you back down where he was waiting to meet your hips a particularly eager thrust of his own.

“mhmm there it is.” he gave a smug little laugh that was always so familiar coming from him. satisfied that he had proven his point, he went back to making sure you kept quiet. instead of using his hands to muffle you this time, he smothered them with his own deep groan through a passionate kiss.

it didn’t help your case that your only response was an increasingly dazed look in your eyes. he clapped a large hand over your mouth again as you clung to him for dear life. your nails scraped at the back of his expensive dress shirt, feeling the muscles of his back react to the sensation. you raked them up to the softly shaved snow on his nape, pushing another groan out of him. only one of satoru’s hands were free, but he was doing the work for both of them. sometimes your husband was gentle and soft during sex— this was not one of those times. there was nothing sweet about how he groped your ass, gripping and kneading at the skin harshly. every so often one of his fingers brushed against your unoccupied hole while his palms spread your ass slightly.

gravity had you feeling like he was fucking his cock into you well past your pussy. you felt a pleasurable shock each time he hit that perfect spot, shooting up your body. how could it not feel that good with the way you met him with every bounce on his pretty cock. you both got closer and closer, but not quite there. you knew from the beginning that would be short, but you two couldn’t resist a quickie. honestly, you couldn’t resist any opportunity to fuck.

the truth is, he meant it when he said he really didn’t care about being caught from all the noise, but he also didn’t like that getting caught meant having to stop before he could make you finish.

even deeper than that desire, the one he didn’t want to admit just yet, was his possessive need. satoru wanted to keep those pretty little screams all to himself. he figured that he was the one helping you make them, he should be the one who decides that only he gets to hear them. people could still know just who was claiming you by his own pornographic professions of pleasure. Maybe he would let you cry out in the end to reward you, if only because he wanted to hear you say his name like you always did.

to get you there, he was going to have to go just a little harder to push you over the edge. chasing both of your highs, he used all that famous speed of his to switch positions and bend you over the desk. it all happened so fast that even if he slipped out, you didn’t feel it.

the new angle already allowed him to go deeper, but it also allowed you to arch your back. satoru didn’t moan, he whined at the sight. he always loved seeing just how far you’d bend for him— literally. it made his cock throb inside of you, the blood pulsing through the veins along his shaft that were making each drag against your walls take you closer to heaven.

still muting you but no longer having to hold you up, he used a free hand to bully your clit as well as your hole. there was so much sap dripping down from your pussy, making the noise that rang out everytime your ass and his hips met even more vulgar. he easily gathered up some of the wet mix of both your juice and his precum on two of his fingers removing his hand from your mouth only to shove his fingers in instead.

“mmm fuck baby, taste yourself. taste us.” you gagged on them, the choking sound canceling out the much louder whines you were about to make.

he desperately tore off his blindfold, shoving it in your mouth as a gag and telling you to play with your pussy. even before his hand could grip your hips though, you were already meeting his thrusts.

he gripped your hips with his large hands, squeezing your body beneath him, “oh shit. yeah yeah please. keep slamming that ass back on me princess. please please please.” he begged as if he was at your mercy, even though his inescapable grip was the only thing keeping you from falling limp. he grit his teeth, feeling you tighten around him. you went from throbbing to squeezing him like a vice as your orgasm suddenly shocked through you. you shook, your knees knocking a bit as you used your last bit of strength to push back on him, feeling as much of his cock as you could while you creamed on it. your eyes rolled back almost like they were compensating for the screams you couldn’t let out.

as sensitive as you were, satoru wasn’t done yet.

“so so close, hold out princess.”

the gag slipped from your slacked jaw, but you bit your lip to stop any noise that came from the sensitivity. you nodded and satoru petted your head and smiled. with just your lip to stop you from making noise and you so close to coming, satoru didn’t give a shit about volume anymore. you were about to let out some of the sluttiest moans like you always do when you come, and he wasn’t gonna miss them for anyone. “You know what? get a little loud. i don’t mind,” just before ramming in so hard that he knocked over the desk. the last of your moans morphed into a panicked scream, mingled with the crash and bang of the desk falling, along with all the objects on it. you were nearly one of those things if satoru hadn’t tightly gripped your hips and your neck, keeping you fused together. so much was happening, but he made sure that you were right where you needed to be for him to pour all his cum inside you. it seemed that after everything, your voice couldn’t handle much more than a little whimper when you felt all his hot, thick cum filling you up. you always tightened your legs out of instinct to hold it all in, and it also helped you keep standing as he shuddered, letting a long stream of broken groans and eventually whimpers just by your ear. he wanted so badly to take his time watching his cum drip out of your hole just to gather every drop not inside you on his fingers and shove it back in. you always begged for his cum huh? he’d be a bad husband if he didn’t give you all of it.

shit. his mind cleared he assessed the damage less than a moment after. even with all this clutter on the floor, at least he didn’t add his cum to it he thought. still, the biggest mess was between your legs, and he couldn’t help but feel a little proud about the two of you.

he immediately picked you up like a ragdoll and sat you down on a desk. you still felt your tongue threaten to loll out but you threw a leg over his shoulder out of instinct, giving him access between your legs to clean up the slick that covered your sex and thighs with his blindfold. it was already covered in spit anyway.

“fuck. someone definitely heard that” he murmured during his rushed clean up.

“who’s fault now huh—“ you were cut off by satoru’s reaction to hearing approaching steps he yanked you forward to button your shirt as you realized the person was running, very, very fast. you were both so relieved that you still had your skirt and he still had his pants on, leaving you one less thing to trip over. while he fumbled with your clothes you zipped up his pants and buckled his belt. gojo had just finished the very important task of checking to make sure no cum was leaking past your panties before yuuji came bursting through the door. you immediately hopped off the desk and smoothed down your hair and your skirt, while gojo tried to pass off his ruffled hair by acting like he’d been running his hand through it.

“hey, are you guys ok? we thought we heard something crash.” yuuji eyes darted to the desk on the floor, completely missing the raging blush on gojos face and the slight wobble in your knees. he opened his mouth to ask only to be shoved through the door when nobara came in hot behind him.

“hey! i thought we were all gonna check it out!” she scolded him with her whines.

“not my fault you’re slow!” he defended.

finally megumi strolled in, looking as nonchalant about the whole thing as he could be, in great contrast to his best friends.

“students!” you turned to satoru as he addressed them enthusiastically, “your teachers were just training and made a bit of a mess.” wow. that excuse just…well it sucks. you almost wanted to roll your eyes but had to do a double take. where did he get his glasses from? when did he put them on? leave it to gojo to keep his accessories on hand. it did help distract from how puffy and pink his lips were as he spoke.

“you were fighting in here?” yuuji tilted his head in question. combined with his big brown eyes, his actions had him looking like a puppy.

“it was impromptu.” you bolstered gojos excuse while trying not to cringe at how bad it was to begin with.

“ooh were you like couple fighting?” nobara jumped in with her question. it seemed she was way too intrigued by the prospect of drama to question how much sense it actually made, and you had absolutely no objections to that right now.

“wait things can get that heated to where you battle??” oh yuuji. he asked as if nobara knew all there was to know about the subject.

“no, no!” you waved your hands frantically, only to be completely tuned out once the two kids entered the mode of conspiracy. they talked lowly but didn’t whisper, as if you couldn’t hear them literally talking about you five feet away.

“i mean they totally look like they got into it.” nobaras chin was between her thumb and pointer finger while her eyes narrowed in inspection, yuuji mimicking her actions. after a second of tapping her cheek, she pointed directly at her sensei, making you and satoru almost jump a little bit. wow you had to get a hold of yourself. “no offense, but you should probably fix your hair.” nobara stated bluntly. gojo pouted. you thought he was adorable but also made a note to compliment his hair later.

megumi had been silent, not even really looking at you or the mess. his eyes just wandered the walls until it seemed like something clicked in his braim. his eyes darted back and forth between you and gojo. suddenly rolling his eyes letting out an exasperated “oh my god,” megumi just dragged a hand over his eyes and his face. he wasted no time turning around and walking away, seeming absolutely done with you two.

he caught nobaras curiosity and had her chasing him out the door and down the hall where you could hear her calling out “hey! hey, fushiguro come back!”

“hey wait what’s he talking about.” yuuji looked increasingly confused as he followed suit.

you almost slumped in relief you were so tired and you had to put effort into standing straight and not just falling into gojo. he looked at your relieved and tired face with a goofy smile. that smile. it disappeared as soon as you started slapping his arm.

“sa-to-ru!” a slap accompanied each syllable. “that was the worst excuse ever! there’s no way they’re not going to figure it out!” your hands kept slapping his bicep, but were just as quick to wrap around it right after. you pressed your cheek against the expensive cotton sleeve as you hugged his arm tightly and pouted just like he did as you looked up.

“c’mon let’s be real here, megumi would rather die than discuss our sex life with his friends. plus, we’re married, princess. i’m pretty sure a husband fucking his wife is like, the least surprising thing ever.” he rolled his eyes as he turned to wrap his arms around your waist, your hands resting on his chest.

“what about itadori? i’d hate for that kid to lose his innocence,”

“innocent? that kid is a self-proclaimed ass man.” taking advantage of the subject, one of satorus own hands came to rest on your ass. you quirked a brow but he pretended not to see your face and just continued, “i also saw a pinup poster in his room,”

“wait, really?” you stopped and shook your head a bit, like it would help you refocus on what you remembered you were talking about, “oh but still, toru, i know they know we have sex but—“

“but what?” he sighed, waiting for your most definitely poor reasoning.

“i don’t know, just” you started blushing and he knew that little embarrassed look. he knew you always liked to play the good girl, to hold on to your pride. if it didn’t make for such a fun game he’d say it’s a total waste of time knowing, without fail, he’d have you on his leash in minutes (literally or metaphorically depending on what your setting allowed). a single long finger tilted your chin up, his face suddenly so close to yours.

“oh you’re not worried about them finding out about my wife being fucked, you're worried about them finding out that she likes to be fucked like a slut.” such crude words came out in delicate breaths that fanned across your face.

“no!” your voice died out instantly when he pulled you a little closer again, your noses now touching instead of just your breath.

“hard enough for the desk to fall and loud enough to scream.” you had had sex minutes ago, and even worse, had almost gotten caught, and yet he was saying and doing everything to make your pussy throb all over again. you were always so easy for him to play with, never offering any real objections despite your attitude. “yeah? you don’t want them to know how desperate you are, how you just couldn’t keep your legs closed until we got home? because that’s all you want, isn’t it.” he whispered in your ear, your eyes fluttering back with chills. the sensation of him placing kisses on your neck brought you back to your senses once again.

“please, as if you didn’t run around the whole school just to say you needed ‘help’”

“and you’re suchhhh a good little helper for me, baby,”, he went to kiss you on the mouth you returned it, but as soon as he deepened it, you pushed him away and he had the audacity to look hurt. you were getting whiplash from having to repeatedly pull yourself together just to fall right into his hands again.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. i swear we almost got caught there’s no way we can go another round. you’re insatiable gojo satoru.”

“mhmm, we both are, mrs. gojo satoru.” he tapped your nose before lowering his voice once again. “so, how bout i take these panties, and we go home when my cum is about to leak past your skirt, huh?”

“fine. deal.” you huffed, but spread your legs quickly. he went on one knee to pull your panties down, enjoying the picture of your pussy and leaving a kiss on your clit which made you hiss, before he had the fabric dropping to your ankles. you stepped out of them and he swiftly pocketed them.

“i love my wifey so much!” he stood up and kissed you with a cute smile as if he hadn’t just shove your panties down his pants.

“that’s good because love you too toru,” you said softly, hands clasped behind your back and rocking back and forth on your heels with a lovesick look like a schoolgirl. honestly, he never stopped making you feel like one.

“aww so sweet.” he tucked a hair behind your hair, sending butterflies past your stomach and to your whole body, but you just knew that wasn’t all. “who woulda thought you were such a whore?” ah, theres your satoru.

“only for you” you patted his cheek jokingly, but he just groaned with his whole body. he had to do things in the most dramatic way possible of course.

“ugh. baby, you can’t just say things like that and then—“

you pushed him off, leaving him, arms still stretched out reaching for you, even after you walked out the door. he looked at the clock before deciding it was max 30 minutes before you asked to go home. you came back in 10.

— bonus:

“well i mean the honeymoon stage is like that, although it’s annoying and gross.” nobara shrugged while still stirring her boba.

“they’ve been married for 7 years. dated for 10.” megumi responded quietly, nobara consequently spewing her drink.

“no way! they act all starry-eyed and all that stuff still.” yuujis own eyes opened wider in surprise

“yeah that’s what i thought too!” it helped nobara that even yuuji had the same idea too. “ugh now that i know they’re just like that it’s kinda gross.”

“wait megumi if they’ve dated for 10 years, you lived with both of them at the same time, right?” both of megumis friends leaned closer to him, eager to hear where yuujis question went, but he didn't even look at them.

“yeah what about it,” he said as nonchalantly as ever. this was a topic he had always made a point never to dwell on.

“so you had to have heard—“

“okay, that’s enough. we’re never talking about this again.” ideas like yuujis were the exact reason why megumi refused to feel his interest. ideas like yuujis made him want to die from remembering just how many times he accidentally heard the two of you…daily.

“yeah gross, good idea.”

“um yeah, you’re right, don’t answer that actually.”

[yuellii]

🪼 HI USER YUELLII OMG I LUV JEALOUSY TROPES MAYBE THAT SAYS... SOMETHING ABOUT MY CHARACTER BUT I LOVEEEE JEALOUSY TROPES. AND WITH NEUVILETTE????? SOEMONE WHO PRIABBLY DOESNT EXPERIENCE JEALOUSY OFTEN IF AT ALL???? im sold. IM SOLD. PULLING OUT MY CREDIT CARD. IWOULD LITERALLY KILL TO READ UR THOUGHTS ON IT

The Four Stages of Jealousy : THE IUDEX.

STAGE I. — Identification.

There is a threat, that a person may feel losing someone to someone better than them. "I want what you have, and I hate that you have what I want."

Neuvillette wasn’t quite sure of the sudden twist in his stomach as he stood at your doorstep, a bag of pastries tucked under one of his arms and a box of tea bags carried under his other.

Saturdays, three o’clock sharp in the afternoon held meaning: A time in which he’d arrive at your boutique, treats in hand and a pleasant look on his face. He’d try on one of your hats, maybe, for it was a prime time for tea, taken advantage of by the two of you, alone together every Saturday afternoon. It was an evening of the week where he was most happiest, though that might’ve been only an assumption. But the tranquility he usually felt standing at your doorstep was never one he could ignore.

Unfortunately, said tranquility seemed to be lacking this time around.

What he expected as another nice time alone with you ( especially since it was on your undocumented schedule—but who cared for documents, when he looked forward to this meeting every week? ) was instead being interrupted by a certain someone. Namely, a certain Champion Duelist. And maybe, Neuvillette would not be so bothered, had she not been sitting in his seat.

( Said seat was also unspoken, or ‘undocumented’ between the two of you, but still. He sat there every week—therefore by repeated pattern alone, that antique chair in front of the table should be his. )

( And sure, this might’ve been your boutique’s seating area, where everyone comes to sit during the day; But on Saturdays during tea time, he’d like to think that seat was practically reserved for him. )

“Neuvillette!” you practically gasped, facial expression turning into one of lightened excitement at seeing him. There was a blissful ignorance in your voice—‘ignorant’ in the way he was truly glad you didn’t know he was mentally annoyed at the mere fact his seat was taken. But nevertheless, the tightrope of his heart fluttered at the sound of your voice, which always sounded so enthusiastic every week he came back here. Perhaps you were just excited to see him as much as he was excited to see you—the thought alone brings a shiver to his spine.

He approaches forward with a polite smile of his own when you pat the empty spot adjacent to you on the loveseat. Ah, so the theft of his usual antique chair leaves him to sit beside you. Maybe the uninvited guest was welcomed, now that he thought about it.

“What brings Miss Clorinde with us today?” he finally asked, addressing the most obvious outlier first. When he set the bag of pastries down on the table, he watched as the Duelist eyed it with interest.

Clorinde hummed. “I was here for a small chat, then I was told that Monsieur Neuvillette would be ‘arriving soon’. And here you are.” At the recount of events, Neuvillette noticed how Clorinde threw a playful look at you. This playfulness did not stop, unfortunately for him, when she leaned forward to peek at the paper bag he brought in. “Then I stayed, because I thought: ‘What could the Chief Justice possibly say that’s interesting enough for weekly conversations?’”

You gasped at her teasing insult. “Clorinde!” you scolded with slight laughter. “Monsieur Neuvillette is a great companion for tea conversations! He’s very interesting, indeed, I promise you!”

“Thank you,” Neuvillette coughed through his words. He’s beginning to feel a bit awkward here…

“Oh?” Clorinde piped up again, just before Neuvillette could even get another word out. “There’s a lot of pastries in here, and also a new box of tea?”

“He brings them for us to share every week!” you exclaimed happily, grabbing the bag off the table and kindly distributing a treat to everyone. And that’s when suddenly, Neuvillette wishes he only bought one for the two of you, because he watches as you set down the pieces of Conch Madeleines in front of the Champion Duelist, despite Neuvillette knowing those were your favorites. Meanwhile, instead, you gave him and yourself the remaining other pastries. But surely, you wouldn’t just give up your favorites like that… Unless you favored Clorinde. Ah, but maybe he was overthinking it. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”

Clorinde sends him a casual smirk, likely to tease him. “Sweetest, certainly.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to any of this at all.

When he eventually had to leave, Clorinde still stayed there to chat with you, and he felt empty walking out of your boutique. Emptier than usual, actually. It was certainly confusing, due to the fact nothing inherently bad happened, and he certainly didn’t want to say Clorinde’s presence bothered him, or anything over-the-top like that.

Hm.

Neuvillette didn’t get to talk to you as much as he wanted to today.

STAGE II. — Confrontative.

Where negative thoughts start to bloom as "envy." Jealousy begins to indicate love for the person, and the individual is afraid of losing that object of their love.

It’s the following Saturday when he sees you again, and he can’t quite understand why he feels an air of relief upon seeing that Clorinde is not there today.

“Neuvillette!” You greet him with the same smile and same excitement as always, and the rush of paradise courses through his body before he sits across from you in his usual seat: the antique chair right in front of you. He sets down his paper bag of fresh pastries; And upon doing so, he can’t help but smile when he noticed there are only two teacups on the table. One for you, and one for himself. “You seem a little more delighted today”—Was it that obvious?—“What’s gotten you into a good mood, Monsieur?”

He hummed. “Nothing, really.” He actually wasn’t quite sure why he was feeling so joyous today, either, but as long as you were sitting there still smiling at him, then it would all be alright. “It’s just natural, since it’s always my pleasure to spend my Saturday afternoons with you.”

Bring your hand up to cover your mouth, you lightly gasped at his words. “Oh, Monsieur!” you giggled. “I hadn’t known you could be a charmer with your words!”

He liked the reaction you gave him. He thinks he liked the feeling of approval you gave him, but even more. Neuvillette learned rather gradually that you always tended to get a happy sort-of embarrassment from his ‘compliments’. Said ‘compliments’, however, referred to mere truthful facts he’s laid for you. But there’s a certain loveliness that comes with confiding in someone to tell all your truths to, and he’s more than elated that you’re the one he trusts to blabber endlessly to. He just hopes it can stay like this for a long time: Just the two of you, enjoying your Saturday afternoon tea.

“So,” Neuvillette began, watching as you took a bite of the Conch Madeleine he bought specifically for you. He had to catch himself from smiling at you—if his duty was to buy your favorite treat every week, then so be it. “How has your week been since I last saw you?”

Your hand once again flies up to cover your mouth as you quickly finish to chew and swallow the bite before answering him. “It’s been fun, actually! I saw a concert performed by a famous violinist—I believe I might’ve even spotted you in the front row…”

“Ah, yes, that would’ve been me. It was a spectacular performance; I’m happy to know you saw it,” he smiled. Hm, if he knew you were there that night, he certainly would’ve said hello. Your hand moves upwards once more to bring your teacup closer to your lips, and now he’s curious to ask: “And that ring of yours—that’s new, when did you get it?”

“Oh!” After setting the teacup down, you quickly leaned forwards, outstretching your right arm to show off the ring to him at a closer view. “I just got it yesterday, actually. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is.” It really dazzles to compliment your eyes. Neuvillette catches himself thinking of little things he’s never thought before. Like the way your hair frames your face perfectly, especially at this angle. Or the way your eyes held this delicate shine he admired so dearly, only now heightened by the sparkle of the ring’s reflection. There’s a new tide of poetry unspoken in the depths of his mind, and they might as well stay locked until he figures out just what this emotion is.

When you offer your hand for him to get a closer inspection of the ring is when his breath seems almost stolen from his lungs. Months and months of these weekly tea meetings, and yet he feels this is the closest proximity he’s ever been to you. Here, in his antique chair in the middle of your boutique shop, holding your hand from across the table.

But he feels a spark that he prays you sense as well, for the mere desire of wanting this moment to last forever is enough to tell him that he is completely in love with you.

He leans down gently to reach closer to your hand, kissing your knuckle so featherlight next to the ring. “And it’s even more beautiful on you,” he mutters to you when he pulls away.

Your heart might’ve skipped a beat when you retracted your hand, but he has no idea—he was too lovestruck just now to even think properly. But you take just a moment to recover whilst he’s still stuck in his little daze; Though, who could blame him when he just discovered the ethereal feeling of falling in love?

“Thank you,” you exhaled with a smile that seemed a little breathless. “Lady Clorinde helped pick it, actually.”

…What?

Well, that was a name he completely forgotten until just now. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure after the sudden whiplash of emotions. From finding out he’s in love, to the pang of unwarranted negativity for the Champion Duelist. As expected, he couldn’t tell what this uncomfortable feeling was, but he certainly did not like it.

“Clorinde was there, you say?” he tried to clarify.

You nodded. A little too happily for his liking. “We went out shopping yesterday.” Oh. “And she said this ring really matched ‘the colors of my personality’, whatever that means!” you wholeheartedly laughed. The way you spoke of her, with all this smiling and all these giggles, was making him crave for something more. Did… Did you perhaps want to see him more outside of these tea times, too? You seem perfectly fine shopping with Clorinde now, after all.

He’s never gotten personal time with you like that. It’s always been solely Saturday afternoons, nothing more. And yet, Clorinde immediately gets invited to your shopping runs, and apparently her opinion is also important enough to make you buy the ring? How unbelievable. Neuvillette bets if he was there instead, he’d buy you every piece of jewelry that you even took so much as slight interest in, because that was what you deserved. But no, here he was, not invited to these outings at all, and further stuck wallowing as your mere ‘tea companion’, and not something more.

The door to the boutique suddenly opens, and the both of you turn your heads to the customer.

But instead of a client, you were met with the face of a slightly-smiling Clorinde, ever so amused to see the both of you here again. Well, she shouldn’t be amused. Neuvillette was here on schedule.

“Ah, you’re here!” you say excitedly, briskly standing up to grab another set of tea; And now, Neuvillette can’t quite tell if you greet everyone at the door with this same excitement, and it’s not just restricted to him alone. He shouldn’t be that selfish, of course, so he thinks perhaps it should just not be directed at Clorinde, specifically.

“Pardon me,” Clorinde announced, making her way to the table after you set the tea display down. “I’ll be intruding on the both of you again.” Neuvillette wishes he had any right to refuse.

This time, now that he’s regained his rightful spot on the antique chair, Clorinde had no choice but to sit… right next to you on the loveseat—the same place Neuvillette sat last week when his spot was stolen. A moment comes forth where he now no longer wants his seat at all ( which he doesn’t understand why, because shouldn’t he be happy his unspoken designated seat is back? ), and prefers the loveseat.

Maybe it was the sight of Clorinde next to you, and the fact she was sitting so much closer than he’d like to imagine. And suddenly, that’s when he realizes he doesn’t like the idea of Clorinde being this close to you at all.

“Oh! You’re wearing the ring I got you!” Clorinde recognizes. She grabbed your right hand to immediately inspect it, and Neuvillette can’t help but feel like someone just shot him. Not only did she comfortably grab your hand like it was nothing ( meanwhile, he had to find both the confidence and the breath to even try to kiss your hand earlier ), but she also got it for you? The little detail you never mentioned: That Clorinde bought you the ring.

Now Neuvillette is internally questioning what exactly this ring means. Is it akin to a proposal? A vow? A promise ring for the future?

The longer he stays here the more insane he may be driven, he thinks.

“Sorry to cut my time here short, but I think I have to get going,” he spoke up. Both Clorinde and you looked over at him, and he figured this was a good idea—he doesn’t think he can handle another tea session where the two of you are happily talking as he sits there awkwardly quiet. “I’ll be off, now.”

“Already?” you frowned at him, and that expression almost makes him want to stay. But the sight of Clorinde still absentmindedly toying with your hand sends him into a spiral of emotions he needs to sort out. He’s already stood up to leave without realizing it.

“Unfortunately so,” he says. He might’ve sounded colder than he meant to. It was clear in your face you knew something was wrong, but didn’t want to say it out of privacy. But when he walked towards the door, hearing Clorinde continue your conversation on like normal, it was fruitless to even consider it.

He opened the door. It was raining.

It feels like he was losing your love before he could even have it.

STAGE III. — Redirecting.

Where pleasure is derived from hurting others, stemmed from unconscious feelings of envy. The envy can come in a so-called as a form of competitive implication.

The next time he saw you was around the market area in the morning, wandering the streets like a normal citizen on this wavering Wednesday.

Normally, he would have just smiled and waved at most, but this time, something compelled him to walk up and join you. “Is this where to find you on Wednesday mornings?” he asked curiously, catching your starling attention and watching as your lips curved to a smile when you recognized him.

“It is, Monsieur.” When you stepped ever-so closer to him, a mere basket around your arm being the only thing between you, he felt as if his feet had turned into bubbles, and there was a flutter of heaven around his shoulders. “My weekly groceries are scheduled for today, however I don’t recall ever seeing you on this side of the city, if that isn’t just my ignorance.”

He chuckled, “I’m usually at my office by this time, so you would be correct.” Then his arm slid against yours, taking the wooden basket out of your hands and walking a few steps forward down the market street you shopped at. “But I’m open to a change of pace, so might I join you on this lovely morning?”

The little smile of contentment you gave him when you answered “Of course” made his heart skip a beat. And when you walked forward to hook your arm around his free one, he swears to the sovereign he might simply dissolve right then and there. The closeness of your presence to him now makes his heart race in a way he feels it drumming in his chest, a feeling that is so human that it makes him almost taste the fruit of mortality. You, walking along with him as you hold onto his arm whilst he carries your grocery basket—you look like romantic partners, and he can’t help but feel sort of lightheaded at the mere thought of that.

“Ah, look!” you pointed, and Neuvillette allowed himself to be guided by the arm to a nearby vendor. “They’re selling slices of apricot pie.”

“You fancy these desserts as well?” he mused, already fishing his pockets for his wallet. “Perhaps we should purchase a slice or two and save them for our weekend tea session.”

You agreed, “I thought the same.” Then you noticed his shuffling and playfully waved off his hand, insisting he needn’t pay. “But I fear it might spoil by the time Saturday comes.”

“You want a bite of mine?” And that’s when Neuvillette wasn’t even surprised anymore to hear the voice of the Champion Duelist appearing out of nowhere. He has such horrible luck running into her, that he’s now just accepted it at this point ( or, for better words: he still has yet to accept the fact that maybe Clorinde was specifically seeking you ). She stood there, leaned against a pole with an easy-going expression and a fork in one of her hands, carrying an aluminum tin with the exact same apricot pie you were just eyeing.

You gasp at her appearance, “Sure!” Neuvillette doesn’t even have a moment to process the mere seconds it takes for you to slip away from his arm, leaving him to follow behind as you skip over to Clorinde. The uninvited guest takes it upon herself to feed you a bite with her fork—it was at this time that the Iudex began to feel like an outlier once again.

“We were actually about to buy a few slices ourselves,” Neuvillette piped in. He did it quickly, perhaps it was instinct so he wouldn’t be left out of the conversation again. “But an excellent point was brought up, that the dessert might spoil by the time we reach Saturday afternoon.”

“Why don’t you just buy one and eat it now?” Clorinde shrugged. Ah. Neuvillette internally scolded himself; He should’ve thought of that. And when you waved off her suggestion dismissively, claiming it was fine now that she let you try it, Neuvillette realized he completely missed an opportunity to have dessert with you on a Wednesday instead of a Saturday. That while he was still a man you only saw once at the end of each week, you’d be seeing Clorinde multiple times throughout it.

He wasn’t fond of the way Clorinde was still feeding you more bites of pie, either.

“Miss Clorinde,” he addressed. If only he had more of a grasp of human sociability, then he might’ve realized how firm his voice sounded in this situation that was… not so serious. “Shouldn’t you be alongside Furina at this time of day?”

“On a typical day, yes,” she answered simply. “And shouldn’t you be in your office?”

He almost glared. “No, actually, I’ve given myself the time to roam around today.”

“Oh wowww,” she teased, though Neuvillette might’ve heard it as something mocking. “Lady Furina would be pleased to hear that. Instead of being cooped up in your office or the Opera Epiclese all morning long, you’re out here at the market, even holding a basket for shopping.”

The Iudex cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll have you know that this basket isn’t mine.” There was an air of competitiveness in his voice, one that almost had him biting his tongue in surprise of himself. Because it was simply just as he said: a basket. But the fact it belonged to you, and the fact that he was carrying it for you—suddenly he wanted to boast it and show it off to the world, especially to Clorinde’s face. “The two of us are shopping together this morning, if you’ll excuse us.” His next move might’ve been bold, but the feeling of possessiveness was so airtight and he had no choice but to hook his own arm around yours once more, getting ready to turn and leave.

“So cold,” Clorinde rolled her eyes. ‘Cold’ was a word often used to describe him, but no, not here. He did not want to appear that way in front of you. “Is this really the attitude you want to spend all morning with?” she asked, this time directed at you.

Something in him snapped. There was an emotion that clouded his head far angrier than annoyance, and it sprouted from the way in which she made him look bad, like the stone-cold Chief Justice everyone thought him to be. Albeit with you, he was trying to be everything but that. Emotional, vulnerable, heartfelt, human—Clorinde was not going to take that away from him.

‘Is this really the attitude you want to spend all morning with?’ The question kept playing in his mind, as if she was any better than him? She, who most people also saw as stoic, should not be seen by you in a better light than him. She, who did not know your favorite desserts like he did, who did not make time for you like he did, who did not fancy you as much as he did—

He felt you tug at his arm, snapping him from his thoughts.

Your eyes held the same, worried look you gave him on Saturday when he left so abruptly. So jealously.

Neuvillette cleared his throat once more. “It seems you are correct, Miss Clorinde.” There was solemness in his voice. Yet he was so quiet as he unlocked his arm from around yours, and handed your basket to Clorinde. “My attitude proves to be too unfavorable for the likes of this lovely morning, I thank you for bringing it to my attention.” These emotions were too much right now; he was starting to fear them. “My deepest apologies to you both, I’ll be heading back to the Palais Mermonia now.”

He bowed his head as diplomatically as he could manage, but the skies were already darkening.

“I bid you both a fine rest of your morning.”

“Wait, Neuvillette!”

Your call was drowned by the deafening drums of his hammering heartbeat, and the patters of light rainfall from the somber sky.

STAGE IV. — Medea.

At this stage, the grip of envy appears almost irreversible. There is a hatred towards others that dominates their thinking, and happiness or success is no longer foreseen.

Saturday afternoon.

He couldn’t see you again, even if it was time for your weekly meeting, not when he was feeling like this.

Not when the sky was pouring from the mere thought of you, and how he’s probably already lost. It was inevitable for a man like him, and he should’ve realized so earlier. Three o’clock, and you were already probably sipping away with Clorinde at your side, pastries on the table and a dazzling ring on your finger. She was much more human than him, after all, and such a shortcoming became his eventual downfall.

The Palais Mermonia was quiet, though that might’ve been due to the endless rain that’s been pouring since Wednesday morning.

While it was nice, he couldn’t help but feel the silence only amplified his feeling of loneliness in this moment. Especially at this time: a time of the week in which he looked most forward to.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” a Melusine knocked from right outside his door. “You have a visitor!”

And before he could even reply, that was when you ignored all formalities, all proper respect as you pushed your way through the door and into his office. The surge of panic he felt from your sudden presence was unrivaled to the way you made haste in getting seated in front of his office table, setting down your handful—said handful consisting of two teacups, and a bag of pastries.

His heart practically shattered. The familiar cups and bag of treats on the table, the way your hair and clothes were lightly damp from the rain—you made the effort, coming all the way here just to see him. Just so the both of you wouldn’t miss a single Saturday afternoon together.

“I believe you might’ve forgotten our schedule, good Monsieur.” A light scolding, yet partnered with the most comforting smile you’ve ever given him, and he starts to feel his hands tremble. “You seem surprised to see me,” you commented further, filling in the silence as he has yet to utter even a word. “Did you really think I’d just let you ditch me like that?”

It was hard to breathe, hard to find his voice when you were so patient with him. “Sorry.” It’s all he can mutter now, this blistering swell of emotions causing a waver in his voice. “I’m so, very sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you chuckled at him. His body tensed when you reached forward to grab one of his hands. But you felt cold just like the chilling rain outdoors, and now he worries you might catch a fever because of him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what was wrong, but…” Your eyes drooped with a certain sorrow in their crevices, and Neuvillette found himself slightly squeezing your hands. “I couldn’t seem to find a good moment alone with you.”

He shook his head at you, whispering, “I don’t even know what’s wrong, myself…”

You frowned. This atmosphere was suffocating and just from one glance upwards at your face, Neuvillette could easily tell you were holding back something to say. Granted, it was his fault. He’s the one who’s here, sitting and sulking in his office with little to no explanation. He’s the one who’s kept you worried this past week from leaving so abruptly two different times now. If anything, he might understand how to be a human even less after this ordeal.

“Would you be so kind…” he starts, words like lumps in his throat, “to allow me to be honest? To let me ramble whatever nonsense I’m feeling for just a moment, so that maybe you can make some sense of it all?”

You gave his hands a comforting squeeze. “Of course.”

There’s a certain phrase caught dead in his tongue. And he’s never been afraid to speak his mind before, yet suddenly, your judgment of his feelings mattered much more than the truth of his words. But he was feeling so much, and if this was really the emotional baggage humans had to carry all the time, he could only wonder how most people have yet to burst from the hauntings of their own mind.

Or more accurately so—the hauntings of their own love.

These words were doomed to come spilling out. “You’ve bewildered me with mountains of emotions,” he rambles quicker than he thinks. “All from the sleight of your hand, I best believe I’ve fallen in love with you.”

He forces himself to ignore how your eyes widen in that moment, or how the grip from your hands suddenly loosens from the shock that rings through his confession. He doesn’t have a way with words, and he knows this. So in a hasty attempt to piece together a board of emotional exposure his mind cannot even comprehend, he does the only thing he knows how to: talk and talk, until he has no more truth to confess to you.

“But the feelings that came alongside my love,” he began to you, “are unexplainable.” As his voice ended in coarseness, there was such an hopeless look of utter confusion you had never seen on his face before, like he was silently pleading for you to help a poor soul like his own. “The beating of my heart when I see you… A stark contrast to the tightness in my stomach I feel… When Miss Clorinde joins us.” The ending of his sentence dropped to nearly a whisper, like he expected it to be sin. “But what I just don’t understand, is why,” the section of his brows furrow in distress, “because she’s my coworker, and I do not dislike her, but I feel as if I cannot stand her when she joins us…”

You listen quietly. He doesn’t know whether to be thankful or fearful whilst awaiting your reaction.

He continued, “But when she sat with us for tea, and bought you that ring, and joined us at the market…” This confession; It was arguably harder than confessing his love to you. Because Clorinde was your friend—maybe even closer, if he was so unlucky—and he might’ve crossed a line here he didn’t even know existed. “I felt like I hated her,” he finished.

You were still silent, though it wasn’t like he could see your expression anyways. He refused to even look up to it, choosing instead to stare down at your joined hands.

But this silence was deafening. Please, just reject him already. He let out the most exhausted sigh he has ever before, the weight of these human emotions bearing down on him. “So I was just…”

“Just jealous,” you finished for him, and he noticed in your voice how you were almost laughing quietly to yourself. The emotion you just named—he didn’t know how envy even felt like, much less jealousy ( though, he supposes he knows now ). “Neuvillette, you should’ve just told me you felt uncomfortable with Clorinde there.”

“Hm?” He was confused. So confused, that his eyes finally darted up to meet your own. And there you stood, most comforting of smiles on your face as your thumb began to trace patterns on the back of his hand.

You reassured him, “Those are times we spend together, dedicated to the both of our comforts.” Which was true, but he was ready to argue that he felt selfish that way—and that you wouldn’t love nor deserve a selfish man. “I trust you to tell me when you feel things are unfavorable,” you continued, “and I promise you, Clorinde would understand if I told her.”

“But,” he piped up, so much doubt in his eyes as if struggling to believe your words, “is she not important to you?” And now, he could not comprehend the bashfulness that raised blood to his cheeks, or the complete disbelief that you’d wave off the Champion Duelist just because of his silly discomfort. Human relationships; He feared he may never understand them.

“Of course she’s important to me—she’s my friend!” you lightly laughed. “But you’re important to me, as well. Please understand that.” His heart might’ve stopped for just a moment. “And when we have our scheduled times alone together, the last thing I want to have is you feeling uneasy when we’re supposed to be relaxing.” Your words, the kindness you shed—it was all so confusing yet so welcoming at the same time, that he feels it’s only a matter of seconds until he drowns from the sound of your voice. To feel such comfort in a person was bizarre to him, but it’s a feeling that makes him crave your presence all the same.

His eyes fell to another slight frown, voice quieter as if losing the will to argue. “But… I should not have the right to impede on a relationship significant to you…”

Now it was your turn to look baffled. The way he worded it. Oh, surely he didn’t— “Monsieur, do you think Clorinde and I are a couple?”

“Well, I certainly thought you two were getting to that state in your relationship,” Neuvillette answered truthfully, voice flowing without hesitation as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. The man who just confessed his love for you only moments ago was fully convinced you felt romance for another woman. “Hence why I was…” He turned his head to the side, shyly clearing his throat. “Envious…”

You practically burst out into giggles. In fact, one of your hands even let go of his grip just so you could cover your mouth to laugh. “Oh… Oh, Neuvillette, surely you jest!” you attempted to name whilst controlling your laughter. The Iudex was shell-shocked into pure silence, wondering what he could’ve possibly said to make you react this way, because as far as he knew, he was not making a joke. “Clorinde is only a friend to me,” you clarified. “Nothing more.”

He remains silent, but there’s a sweeping wave of new emotions that suddenly flood his shoulders.

“And if she sees me as anything more, then, well,” you continued, glancing up outside and then back down to meet his awaiting eyes. “Unfortunately for her, the love in my heart has already been captured by another.”

“By whom?” The lack of hesitation from his immediate question has more giggles escaping your lips. He looks at you, and your face tells him it’s an obvious question with an obvious answer, and yet he still cannot comprehend this even when you squeeze both his hands in yours once more.

“Who do you think, Monsieur?” And yet even after his face flushes red, he still has a focused look of anticipation on his face—it’s as if he absolutely will not believe it until you spell it directly to his face. “Neuvillette,” you sighed, but there was an air of gentleness in the way you say his name that relaxed his soul. “It’s always been you.”

The rain continued on.

But now the sun shined between each droplet, because if he could cry from happiness right now, he was sure you’d already be busy wiping his tears away. And this sunny rain continued on and on, even as he poured you tea, even when he bit into the pastries you bought, and even when he looked at you fondly across his desk, not a single doubt of your love.

And as for Clorinde, well, he might need a few more days to recover before he can forgive her for all the sporadic heart attacks she’s almost given him.

[corollaservant]

Introspect // Dabi x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: The past never dies. But it can often be forgotten. (3.4k)

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, captivity, stalking, violence, noncon/dubcon, jealousy, delusion, denial, implied PTSD, deterministic and nihilistic philosophical paradigm, Dabi's POV—stream of consciousness type fic

A/N: wrote this in 3hrs. majorly inspired by (and dedicated to) my fave tumblr writer, new magic wand by tyler the creator and this dabi art 🖤

Happy. You looked happy, that’s what he thought when he saw it.

Not in a way you’d been with him anyway. He didn’t know whether that was for the better. The first thing he thought was you posted him. Of course you would. He was not patched, burnt or looking like someone who escaped the psychiatric ward. Without proper clothing, jumping out of a window, frantically running towards the opposite direction. Was it a matter of appearance? Or did you just not like him enough? He wouldn’t know, you hadn’t spoken in a month. And some days. That’s when you told him you needed space. Seriously, people needed to come up with better excuses, this one was over-saturated. Was it bad he clung onto you? It’s not like you had many friends, all he had asked was more of your time. Your stupid job wasn’t even that important—he never bothered finding out what you did exactly, it’s not like he didn’t care, he just wanted you there. The rest of your whereabouts were none of his business as long as you were not conversing (excessively) with anyone else. Because even then, why would you need to do that? He could do it for you.

He had no actual job, well, classifying as a villain doesn’t get you far in life, he called himself a freelancer. Freelancer in murder and theft, maybe. But he felt like he had a share in serving divine justice. A modern vigilante so to say. Any accidental death was a misfortune, a predetermined fate. He didn’t want to pretend to be integrated in society for you to like him, he was lucky because he didn’t have to. Which then reminded him of how he met you.  

Petting strays at night wasn’t careful of you, especially with the crime rates in the city. But you had done so regardless, he remembers it vividly: You in an alley, on your knees, not caring about the dirt coming in direct contact, extending your hand. The cat was barely visible, he could only make out its yellow eyes. But then, the cat saw him, he knew cats had brilliant vision and it left you, perhaps in thought he had food you didn’t. You turned your head only to take a step back. Not smart, you landed on your ass as you opened your mouth. Did he scare you? Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. Under other circumstances he’d leave. Making fun of strangers wasn’t really his thing, not unless they deserved it, but the cat seemed to take a liking to him. Animals loved him, his mom used to tell him not to trust people who repelled them, it was a bad sign. Animals had instinct, animals could tell. He decided to pet the little guy (or girl?), as he kneeled down and softly touched its head. That was another thing about cats. They didn’t give a fuck about the staples or burnt odor, they just wanted food and the occasional touch. He liked cats. He could see himself in them. Something in the domesticity of the situation must've calmed you down because you fixed your posture and to his surprise approached him. It was still dark, you were still a woman and alone in an alley. 

‘’He likes you.’’ You told him. Had you already figured out it was a male stray? Dabi must’ve underestimated you. Your voice hid a whine, a soft protest but it was not annoyance and he shifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah.’’ was all he said. 

‘’Can I?’’ You asked. Why were you asking for permission, this wasn’t even his cat. 

‘’Sure.’’

You were so close, trying not to scare the cat and also touch him, he noticed. Your finger tried to avoid his but the cat’s head was unfortunately not that big so you eventually grazed a digit over him. You hadn’t flinched back then, hadn’t even scrunched your nose, were you not afraid? Didn’t the smell and appearance repel you? Apparently not, you seemed so invested in getting the cat to like you. It wasn’t like it didn’t. The stray ended up loving you, purring at your touch and looking in your eyes, like a man in love. And maybe it wasn’t just the cat. 

-

Within three days of your first encounter he had you on his chest, in your apartment of course, where else could he have you? He wanted to fuck you the first time he saw you, but the urge wasn’t that violent, which had taken him by suprise. You also did not seem like the type to give it up easily. He’d have to do some mental jumping jacks to get you, he didn’t worry about revealing too much though; he didn't have a lot to say, his old identity long buried away with his sensitivity. He still didn’t feel like hurting you. The first night he told you his name, Dabi, and it was so convincing, he too had believed it. You exchanged trivial information neither cared about and he offered company on your way back. He scolded you for being alone in the neighborhood, like some good samaritan, he laughed as he guided you through dimly lit alleys with zero traffic. 

‘’Want to come inside?’’ You had asked. Already? Were you that easy? But who was he to say no?

Your place was small, as expected, neat and tidy, with a few clothes on the bed, nothing bad. It smelled nice too, he noticed a small plant on the coffee table. How gullible to let him in like that. Dabi imagined how many times you must’ve been wronged in life. But you being you—it was probably something that flew over your head daily. You’d call it compromise, he’d call it stupidity.

He had fucked you in missionary that night, a true gentleman, easing his way inside and slightly towering, making sure the stapled skin under his sternum didn’t touch your sensitive one. You were soaking by the time you stopped making out and he slid a finger inside, warm and enticing, his cock hardened in primal ways. He had softly thrown you on your bed (his definition of soft wasn’t exactly soft, you had let out a groan, was it bad?) and climbed on top. You were looking at him expectantly, your eyes glassy, was that pain or excitement, Dabi would bet bucks on the latter. The way you had shyly parted your legs, not for his cock, but to fit him in between was sickeningly pretty, he could swear he was almost…nervous to slip his cock inside. And he was right, trying to fit it inside failed him two or three times while he pretended to toy your clit with his cockhead. You didn’t seem to mind, his act must’ve been convincing, you were softly moaning and your eyes dared to look at the sight of his swollen tip against your lower lips, was it pretty? He had fucked you as hard as he would allow himself—your body could take it, he had to be honest, the more he stuffed you, the more he needed to drive his cock further into your soft walls, there was no room for play pretend romance here. But you seemed to like it too, wrapping your arms around the bare part of his back, fingers accidentally trailing the stapled skin and groaning near his face. ‘’Fuck.. right there.. D-Dabi! More!’’ More? Sure, you could have more. A patched arm strongly pinned a leg above your head, touching the bed frame, as his stiff and pained cock violated your cunt, he could feel how deep he was and constantly fought the urge to spill already. As for you? Tears from your eyes fell down your now stained sheets as you screamed. Pleasure, pain, honestly he didn’t care much about what it was, your pussy clamping down on him the last thing he felt before he bit down your neck, almost ripping out the skin tissue. His cum slowly trickled out, while both of you panted, each exhale synchronizing with the clock ticking in the kitchen. 

There were no voids you could fill, he knew it, interacting with others proved to be a daily reminder. But there were voids you soothed, pain you healed just with your head resting where a heart used to be. Heart beating irregularly, like his feet in his childhood, with excitement, with a different type of eagerness. These weren’t thoughts he made that night and that’s how he knew he liked you. That night his mind was blank for the very first time, carefree from reality, from the ugliness of living—you had sex with some stained villain, who hadn’t only stained your cunt, but your sheets too, your morals indirectly and heart along the way. These thoughts came to him when he saw the photo. Space. You said you needed space. There wasn’t any relationship established, what the fuck you needed space for? Because now he had found something to give waking up a reason. Someone to regularly satisfy his cock with, someone to take away his thoughts and halt his aimless wandering. And you needed space. How lame. You know what? He could give you space. Indirectly of course. He’d still follow you around, check the whereabouts and conversations, sit outside your house and watch you get undressed. But you looked happy. And he couldn’t decipher in what way. Was he a friend? Who gives a fuck about the guy anyway, why were you smiling like that? You never posted him, that's for sure, you knew in the three months of irregular hanging out (to call it dating would be a joke) that he hated it. And so you never did, even though he wanted you to deep down. Something small. A grocery store visit, one you made when he said he’d cook dinner (he had burnt it). But you never did and now here you are posting with someone irrelevant. 

Murder wasn’t the answer. Stupidly enough it was always associated with morality. But you’d think Dabi would have none of that. He thought murder was stupid. No second of his time ought to be wasted for the next guy. Though he had to admit, he often contemplated whether you’d want this. You didn’t know shit about him. But a sudden murder would definitely have you crawling for protection. And who better than the one who committed it? He honestly wouldn’t go out of his way to do all that. He wanted you organically. It had been a long time since he wanted someone. But you sufficed. You were enough. You never asked, never complained, not even when you’d come home from work, exhausted and dirty and he was waiting at your door. Not even when you were shoved against the cupboards and fucked without remorse—you still wrapped your legs around him and whimpered on his neck. And fuck if that didn’t feel good. He hugged you in your sleep. You’d both sleep in opposite directions, you first of course, so you’d never notice he switched sides and brought a leg over yours, resting his head on your throat, feeling each breath, each pulse. You’d wake up confused at the position, he’d say he didn’t remember. These were the few nights he could reach REM state. No vivid dreams of course, a shipwreck maybe and some elevator descending, lack of control or whatever bullshit he read once. He could still dream though, a miserable reminder he was still human. 

He was always mean. The world didn’t care to mold someone into being nice. What would that even be? He thought nice meant exchange. Be nice and you’d get a pair of shoes. Act nice and you’ll get to watch TV. Treat others with respect and you’d be the family’s topic of discussion over Christmas. Sure, there were selfless people, he wasn’t crazy to think there weren’t a few of them left. You’d be his prime example. And you weren’t even stupid. But your willingness to help and give bordered exploitation. It hit him like lightning. You needed to get away, the real world was doing damage to people like you. If you were with him, you wouldn't have to think twice about being taken advantage of. He’d still be mean, you wouldn’t change that. But at least you’d sleep assured knowing that he’d never, ever demand something from you. Well…besides your presence, though he’d take you as you are, so in retrospect you’d come to appreciate him for the service. 

When he came to pick you up (abduct sounded rough—you’d also want this eventually) you had just finished work. To others you seemed fine, to him you looked exhausted. No need for mask, no need for clothes, he had everything arranged. You hadn’t objected much, he tried the kind approach first, he had only asked you to go for a ride with him in a car he stole, something you’d never know. The place was a dump, a couch covered in dust and a rusty kitchen, but you’d both make it work. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find money. He would, eventually. He remembers the way your eyes widened, what were you expecting, a trip to the countryside for some mimosas? You should’ve known better. ‘’What are we doing here?’’ You had asked, looking him in the eyes, you seemed frightened like the first time you saw him in the alley, it all ends in the beginning of the cycle, such a paradox, he thought. ‘’This is our new place.’’ He cooed as he approached you, you took a step back. There really was no reason for you to be scared, you’d grow to understand the only thing scaring you would be losing him. 

He had tried to kiss you but you protested, pushing him away, a shame really and he wanted to continue with the nice approach. Well then again nice didn’t really exist so it wouldn't have worked anyway. He kissed you, your mouth was closed but not for long before it was forced open, arms snaking around your waist and pinning you to a wall collecting condensation since god knows when. He was on your neck, kissing, biting, frenzied moves really, he needed you more than he needed whatever kept him alive. Three months ago, he stopped thinking. Now, the only thing he thought was you. He dragged you to the dusty sofa, he thought of using his quirk to burn the fabric, but ripping it out came naturally. You were laid out naked and shivering, his hands grabbed your waist—was this warm enough for you? You whispered something, maybe it was louder than a whisper, stop or whatever but he couldn’t listen. He found your cunt immediately, he was almost drooling at the sight, when was he that hungry ever again? Something about your life. People behind. You said something, he didn’t listen. You weren’t that wet like the first time, he understood. Women, they need emotional connection. Maybe a sloppier kiss to get them going. He found your mouth again, forcing you to kiss him back while he gorged on yours, a small movement in your hips, a pad of his finger back on your cunt. Wetter, perfect. He slid up a finger, curling it while his thumb grazed over your clit, you whimpered. That was a sound he could finally register. He’d bring back that smile, but it’d be for him only. One finger turned to two and eventually three, he needed to stretch you out to take him, nothing had changed since the first time, just his eagerness. His cock throbbed in his black pants, he wanted to taste you. 

You moaned and attempted to touch his hair. He didn’t mind but this wasn’t the time. He moved his head lower, spreading your thighs open and spitting on your clit. Spittle dripped down your slit and his index finger trailed it along the entrance, earning him a moan. See, you already enjoyed this too much. This would be your life now on, he’d fuck you till you wouldn’t want another thing. Captivity had a good side after all. He’d treat you so well, he wouldn’t even have to force all that domestic bullshit on you. You’d do it willingly. He eats your cunt out like it's the most sacred meal, sloppily and without coordination, pushing his tongue inside and gripping your thighs forcefully and what is this? You buck your hips up, wanting more, needy little slut. Perfect, so perfect for making him stop thinking. Making him forget. His cock must leak precum, it feels uncomfortable and he wants you to coat his tongue, he really does, but please understand, he needs you. Now. To bother removing his pants fully would be hilarious, he has neither time nor desire to do so, they’re slid down half way, his cock jumps on his abdomen and he gives it an impatient stroke—looking at you always. Let me go. You say, what? Were you stupid? Right before the best part? Right before the start of a new life? Of a life you should be living years ago? Delusional, you’re delusional. ‘’You love me, baby.’’ He tells you and lets his cockhead slip in your entrance, bit by bit until he’s bottomed out and you wince, he doesn’t move just for a second, this should be enough and then starts thrusting without consideration. Like it’s an incentive, like you’re a hole that needs filling, a mere means to an end. You protest a bit more, if you get louder he might have to get violent on you, please understand he doesn’t want this. You’ll get it, eventually. He can’t decipher the look on your face, it certainly doesn’t scream happy like in the photo. 

And then he’s reminded of the photo and a rage is born. ‘’Did he fuck you this good?’’ He spears his cock inside, you are hitting against the arm of the couch, your mouth contracts and you dampen his cock, so he must be doing something right. ‘’Tell me, did he fuck this cunt?’’ He asks and you just moan—are you dumb? Why aren’t you answering? His arms envelop your throat, pressing on the carotid artery as your muffled moans get even more constricted, he spits on your face and demands an answer. Dirty. Slut. Dirty. ‘’N-o’’ comes out your mouth. He hadn’t tainted you? He hadn’t touched you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He wipes the saliva off your cheeks, it’s so...wet? Are you crying? Why are you crying? He hates it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He kisses you while he plunges deeper, you groan and try to avoid him, stop doing this, you’re his now, it’s final. ‘’I’ll make you feel better, alright?’’ He breathes out, he knows you like his fingers, he knows. His thumb circles achingly, longingly even on your puffy clit while you clench around him, your breathing is labored, you have to cum—cum now! On his cock, show him how much you love him. A few more strokes and he has you clamping down, more tears, so many tears and you moan out his fake name, with anger maybe or an orgasm high, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care either, it’s enough. He needs to steal a kiss one last time and feel the way you squeeze and soak all around to let his load paint you white, maybe he is like a woman after all, longing for emotion, even when he has to fulfill plain instincts. You don’t talk after it, you don’t even blink, you aren’t passed out, are you? He wasn’t that hard, come on now. He has to remove himself, clean you up, the couch and he the least of his priorities. You need to get accustomed. You’ll love it. 

You never ask. About the photo. About your family. About anything prior. But that’s not something he dwells upon, he doesn’t like to look back. You still sleep next to him, well, there aren’t many other options available, yet you do. You still breathe softly in your sleep, he still hugs you from behind. You’ve become a sedative, a very much needed one. He dreams some days, an elevator falling, a shipwreck. Only, you’re there this time. 

The few days he remembers the dream, he appreciates the company. He can only hope you do, too. 

[fatswaps]

NURSE BODY THEFT

Lucas had been a lovely young man his whole life, with a passion for helping others out. It was why he'd studied medicine to become a nurse. At only 26 years old, the young man had it all- a well paying job at a local hospital, an amazing body he'd worked hard for, and a pretty decent reputation in his neighborhood. This reputation was mostly because of his part time job, which involved helping his sickly neighbor Hector.

Hector was an old veteran, the man was 87 years old, and his body was simply ruined. His hair was patchy and balding, with a completely white beard on his wrinkly facem his eyesight wasn't very good hence why he had to wear glasses and his 5,4 height was certainly not complimented by his morbid obesity. The old guy's health had been in decline for years, but Lucas was determined to make his last years more comfortable for the old man.

Unbeknownst to Lucas, Hector didn't see him as a means of making peace with his old age, but rather a way to escape it. One day, he invited Lucas over and showed him a strange device. Telling Lucas that it was an heirloom from his days as a soldier, Hector explained the device's purpose.

"This here is what the military called a swap gun. It's used to switch the bodies of two people that are consecutively shot by it"

Lucas seemed intrested, but his expression changed as Hector begun to explain what his idea was

"I'm getting older Lucas, and I want to feel what it's like to be young again, at least for a few hours. Would you let me switch bodies with you? It's completely reversible"

Feeling sorry for the old man, Hector sighed and responded

"If you really think it'll work, then sure. It's only a few hours, right?"

with that, the old man handed Lucas the device as his bedridden self was unable to stand long enough to do the job. With a deep breath, Lucas first shot himself and then Hector and suddenly everything fell silent.

When Lucas came to, he felt a crushing weight almost gluing him to the bed he was now laying in. With a struggle, the young man now turned old and fat sat up to see that his old body was nowhere to be seen. Spotting a note on his bed's side, Lucas begun to read

"Thanks for the body, Lucas! I'll be sure to get it back to you after I have some fun today. Until then, enjoy the pipe I left for you and watch some TV!"

With that, Lucas turned to the mirror to look at himself. He was hideous, his body a mess. He couldn't believe the swap actually worked and his mind was racing, but he kept himself composed as he reminded himself that Hector would swap them back tonight. So, he did as Hector suggested and decided to try that pipe.

As the day slowly came to an end, Lucas was beginning to get anxious. Looking at his huge, slob like body- he longed to be his old self again. After several hours of waiting, Lucas realized how boring and difficult Hector's life was. He needed help to even get up and go to the bathroom, and he was constantly out if breath.

Suddenly the door opened and a familiar sight walked into the room. There was a confident smirk on Lucas' face, now belonging to Hector. He walked up to the bedside table and placed a hand on Lucas's fat belly

"Damn. I really let myself go in these years haven't I? I won't miss this old body."

Lucas seemed distressed as he frantically looked up at his old body

What do you mean- I- I thought we were swapping back!"

Hector let out a booming laugh as he grabbed the letter from Lucas's hands and crumbled it up

"No way I'm going back in that disgusting body. Enjoy being a fat fart for the rest of your life Lucas, not like you have much time left hahah!"

Hector than flashed his new abs at the crying old man Lucas was now permanently stuck as before leaving Lucas behind to helplessly struggle in his bed. Soon moving away from the neighborhood never to be seen again.

As Hector enjoyed his new life, Lucas was left helpless as he didn't even have the support of another person to help him out. After a few months passed from the swap, Lucas was admitted to a mental hospital for saying stuff like his body was stolen. That was where he spent the rest of his days, as he passed away due to his morbid obesity three years after the swap.

He'd only gotten fatter, hairier and balder as he'd aged, his youth stolen from him by a selfish old man.

[intracunte]

pairing: yandere x fem!reader ᡣ𐭩

cw: footjob/foot humping, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, breaking & entering, extremely one-sided mdlb (he literally only refers to u as mommy), implied(?) noncon, crying, (unwanted) titjob, obsessive behavior, panty theft, panty sniffing/licking, theft of other specified things, implied (?) somno, some nipple play, no specified character; but he’s genuinely crazy over u, 700 word paragraph of him explaining why he did what he did lolol !

wc: 2,076

a/n: this was kinda rushed bc i’ve been working on smth that’s taking me way longer than i originally anticipated that it would! (im still not even halfway done 💀.) the idea of this just randomly popped in my head while i was scrolling on pinterest to find cute little icons for my blog, hope u enjoy !! (again, there’s no specified anime/game character that this is about so u can imagine whoever you’d like!)

this wasn’t okay. nothing about it was. you don’t even much remember how you got in this position; in a filthy room, sitting at the foot of a hard sheet-less mattress, with some guy holding your ankle & pressing your socked foot against his hard cock.

he had his head resting on your plush thigh & you felt his hot breath fanning over your clothed skin. so badly you regretted wearing thigh highs today. all you wanted was for your legs to be warm throughout the day… not to invite some creep to come & start humping your foot like some animal.

his moans actually started off as cute little whimpers & whines. but as he got closer they were just… guttural. this had to have been his first time touching a woman, the thrusts of his hips were sloppy & uncoordinated.

“f-fuck! i’m so fucking c-close!” he rasped, your eyes widened upon hearing his words. there was no way you were about to let him cum on your foot.

you attempted to pull your foot away from his grasp which only caused him to moan louder as he thought you were trying to help him finish or something. so you tried again, but that proved useless due to him still holding onto your ankle.

“you’re s-so good to me mommy!~ you’re even trying to help me cum-FUCK! iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou!” tears of both fear & confusion began to well in your eyes. who was this man? why is he calling you mommy? why is he humping your foot? why does he keep saying he loves you? why wont your mouth move? why can’t you say anything?

how many times can you say ‘i love you’ in 30 seconds? someone should’ve counted because that had to have been a world record or something. as he came, he desperately rutted his aching cock on your foot even faster than he was before.

he must have been feeling absolute euphoria because drool began to fall from his mouth & onto your leg, seeping through the fabric & onto your skin. but despite how grossed out you were there was nothing you could do about it; your body wouldn’t move.

once he finally came down from his high, he finally let go of your ankle & removed himself from your legs. your lip quivered & the tears that were originally only welling in your eyes began to spill uncontrollably, yet no sounds left your mouth.

he got up off the ground with jerky movements, panting like a dog. a big stain a few shades darker than the rest of the fabric on the front of his pants & finally noticed that you were crying. he leaned down & cupped your face with his rough hands & began kissing you. much like his thrusts, the kiss was also sloppy & uncoordinated.

you didn’t kiss back because you couldn’t but he didn’t seem to mind as he forced his tongue into your mouth. licking everywhere & everything that he could reach. your fingers twitched as your mind kept yelling at your body to move, push him off, or do something useful.

after what felt like an eternity of him sloppily kissing you, he finally let your face go, a string of saliva connected to both of your tongues.

“huh? why’re you still crying? that usually works in movies..” he said in a confused tone. he pushed you back so you were now laying on what you assumed to be his gross bed. he then got on top of you & began leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on your throat, which felt anything but good.

you hadn’t noticed it before, but now you were painfully aware of what you were wearing; pink lingerie that was way too tight & scratchy literally everywhere that it touched your skin. his haphazard kisses trailed down to your damnear exposed breasts.

“fuck mommy… i’m getting hard all over again, do you wanna help me again?” so badly you wanted to scream the words ‘fuck no, i don’t even know you’ but the only sound that left your mouth was a choked whimper due to his body weight atop of yours.

he smiled giddily before saying, “i’ll take that as a yes, thank you mommy!” he practically ripped the lingerie from your body & pulled his cum soaked pants down just below his balls. he stroked himself to the sight of your bare body & crying face below him for a little bit before moving up, caging your upper body between his thighs, pressing both of your breasts together & sliding his dick between them.

he let out a high pitched whine, not waiting even a second before immediately thrusting his hips. like before, he had no rhythm at all.

“your probably w-wondering who i—fuck— am.” you weakly attempted to nod your head.

“from the first time i saw you, i knew i needed you in my life. we attend the same college but we don’t have any lectures or classes together. but, you & your bitchy friends sure do love to go to the boba shop i work at. i see you on campus all the time but your always with your bitchy friends so i never approach you. even if you weren’t with them all the time i probably wouldn’t have the confidence to talk to you anyways. i mean— just look at you. everything about you is perfect, your face, your body, your smile, your hair, your life, you always smell so good, your personality.. i could go on for days! but in all honesty, i hated you at first. hell, id even thought about killing you at one point. everything about you was just so sickeningly sweet, being kind to useless nobodies like me, i just couldn’t understand it, so i hated you for it. but as time went on, the more my hatred turned into love… & then that love turned into infatuation & obsession. i’d follow you around everywhere you went, in hopes that maybe you’d finally notice me but you never did. i couldn’t just go up to you & tell you that i was in love with you & everything that you did, so i started stealing your things. the things started off small; your pens, pencils, hair clips, notecards etc. so small you didn’t notice apparently, so i moved on to way bigger things, took more drastic measures; your clothes that you’d change into after a shower in the gym, your money, your school ID. i’ve even broken into your house a few times, i can’t even count the amount of times i’ve jerked off on your bed while smelling & sucking on a pair of used panties that you wore on super hot days. i’d always collect my cum & pour it into your moisturizer or skin care, i even installed a camera in your bathroom to watch you shower & notice just how much fuller & thicker your hygiene products were than the last time you used them. it made me so hard to watch you not notice everything that i took from you or came on. sure you questioned it, but you’d never even imagine that you had an obsessive stalker. when you wore those thigh highs to my job this morning i couldn’t help but sneak a few sedatives into your boba. i accidentally put too many so you passed out almost instantly, your dumbass bitchy friends didn’t even think twice when i told them i could help & when i carried you out of the shop & into the backseat of my car. they seriously could’ve helped you, but they didn’t , so if your gonna blame anyone blame them. i drove all the way home rock hard because the moment that id been dreaming of for months was finally happening. you don’t understand how many times i’ve fucked my fist, imagine it was your mouth— or really any hole of yours for that matter. but all those nights i spent imagining didn’t matter anymore, because i had the real thing right in my backseat. i basically sped all the way home. & once i finally made it the first thing i did was undress you & marvel at your naked body. obviously i’d seen it on camera but it didn’t compare to the actual thing. it’s so perfect, you’re so perfect. as much as i wanted to keep you naked, but i know how much you hate the cold so i dressed you up in that lingerie. fuck, it was so sexy. i kinda regret ripping it just now but you look way better without it on. since i knew i wouldn’t be able to contain myself, i took so many pictures of you in the sluttiest of poses. you kept falling so your a little bruised up but you’re still beautiful either way. when i was just about done with your photo shoot i laid you down on my bed & you begin to stir, i didn’t know how you’d react when you woke up so i injected a little bit of ‘medicine’ into your bloodstream. it temporarily paralyzes you, & makes your brain all fuzzy. oh, & it also works as an aphrodisiac. i know this is probably a lot to take in, but trust me, i’m doing this for you. despite how popular you were & how perfect your life was, you hated every moment of it. but everything is different now that you’re my mommy & i’m your good boy. trust me, you’ll be happy forever.”

you listened to every word that left his mouth, you would’ve been flattered by the amount of kind words he’d said if he hadn’t literally just admitted to thinking about killing you, stalking you, stealing your things, breaking into your house, jerking off & fucking cumming in your skin care, drugging you, kidnapping you & doing things to your unconscious body.

somewhere during his tangent, he’d stopped thrusting his cock between your tits & settled on just playing with & teasing one or your nipples while stroking your cheek with his free hand, though his length was still twitching between your mounds.

you assumed him stroking your cheek was supposed to comfort you but all it did was make everything so much more worse. you hadn’t cried this much in years, this cant be your new reality, you refuse to accept it.

you don’t quite recall passing out. but you did wake up in an entirely different room than the one you were in before unconsciousness overtook you. this room was the exact opposite as the one you were previously in, it was clean, nicely decorated, & smelled of flowers. it also somewhat resembles your own bedroom but a few things were off.

you weren’t even able to enjoy or find comfort in it before your head started pounding as memories from earlier today flooded your mind. you shot up from the comfortable bed, despite your entire lower half aching & scrambled to untangle yourself from the sheets, only to find your right ankle chained to something that wasn’t visible from underneath the mattress.

panic began to set in & you frantically tugged on the chain. tears of frustration began to well in your eyes as it just wouldn’t budge. your cries grew louder & louder, loud enough to attract the attention of your captor. 

he practically broke the door off its hinges as he slammed it open. “what’s wrong mommy?” he had the nerve to ask, acting as if what was happening right now was completely normal. you didn’t respond, only staring at him with tears still spilling from your eyes.

he got on the bed & sat down next to you. he yawned before pulling you into his chest. “shhh, shhh it’s okay mommy, your good boy is here for you. you’ll be okay, everything will be okay, i love you so, so much, go back to sleep my beautiful sweet angel.” he kissed you on atop your head multiple times & rubbed your back.

despite how fucked up this entire situation was, you seriously couldn’t help but snuggle into his arms & lean into his touch. even though he’d literally kidnapped you & probably took advantage of you unconscious form you still fell asleep in his arms, too tired & confused to even begin to realize just how big of a mistake you’d been making.

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP1: Early Hints into Kant's Backstory

Kant is shaping up to be a very intriguing character in my opinion, and no doubt more so thanks to Khaotung's gushing. We've already been given a number of early signposts towards Kant's backstory, so this is my recap and speculations on what we know so far.

THE SKILLS OF A THIEF

We're shown through a flashback that Kant used to steal cars and sell them on - a series of crimes which Captain Chris agreed to disregard in exchange for Kant's previous assistance on his cases.

The natural question to ask would be why? Why was Kant stealing cars? If I were to hazard a guess, possibly due to dire financial straits where this was his only means to support his family. Bison comments, "from your car and how you dress, you don't look like a typical tattoo artist, you know? More like those uppercrust tattoo artists." Kant retorts he just makes enough to get by. I wouldn't be surprised if he and his brother did grow up in some form of poverty or limited means. It would then make sense then why Kant is so driven to support his brother's dreams - because they've felt so out of reach.

The other big question on my mind is why involve Kant? Did Chris see this as a form of charity or rehabilitation for a wayward youth, or an opportunity to exploit a boy who happened to possess valuable skills? "Keep your eye on you and your brother's future. You're a smart brat. You'll find a way." Either Chris is a dubious cop with questionable methods (including coercion), or Kant is a budding criminal mastermind whose too slippery not to be kept on side by the police. (If anyone remembers the Leonardo DiCaprio film 'Catch me if you can', the film's young protagonist is extremely adept at fraud and once caught, is then hired as a fraud detective due to his knowledge and experience of such crimes).

There has to be more than just Kant's history of stealing cars that has Chris so confident in his ability to help with this specific case. And to tackle hitmen of all things where Kant's life could be in serious danger.

AN ELUSIVE FATHER

Kant's parents have not been explicitly mentioned, but references to his father have been implied. They certainly don't live with parental figures so Kant appears to be Babe's sole legal guardian. As he's now 29 years old, Kant may have taken Babe with him once at legal age, or after reasons that kept their parents out of the picture.

In Kant's first scene, he gets a call from a contact named "old fart". My immediate hunch is this could be his father. Moreso, Kant looks visibly exasperated so they're clearly not on the best of terms.

I may very well be jumping here, but something has me speculating if Kant's father had any influence on his car theft; whether his father was the one who taught him how, or was in some form of trouble that Kant stole cars to fend for him and his brother out of desperation.

On a contrasting note, Kant does mention that his father left him his car, a possession that seems particularly dear to him as he's constantly warding off Style's attempts to pry it from his hands. It later becomes the very demand Style bargains for in order to agree to help distract Fadel, and Kant is visibly reluctant to let it go. Needless to say, his relationship with his father may be complicated.

BROTHERLY AFFECTION

We haven't been told Babe's age, but he's been seen wearing school uniform in some BTS photos - so late teens would be my guess. Babe expresses an interest in English literature and Shakespeare, vowing to visit the UK eventually to see his plays in person. If the two brothers did grow up under difficult circumstances, it would be safe to assume that such academic pursuits and going overseas would seem like a luxury, and very much aspirational rather than realistic.

Despite this, Kant is clearly very supportive of his brother's interests and wellbeing. He's very fond of him, and Babe is the sole motivation for why Kant is blackmailed into assisting Chris. This love goes both ways. Babe doesn't ask too many questions about what Kant gets up to as long as he's being safe. He looks happy for him when he spots Kant and Bison together.

I wonder if he has any idea of Kant's criminal history or that he's been assisting the police. My instinct would be no, as Kant would likely be inclined to protect his brother or to prevent him from worrying.

If anyone knows Thai and can translate, I'd be interested to know if there are any notable tidbits visible on Kant's criminal file (above).

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating in real time as the show airs. Probably worth reading my analysis on the FK's character interviews where some of these points are touched on.

[kiame-sama]

Aquarium- (Yandere!Merman!Chrollo x Reader) pt 2

Warnings; part 2, continuation of story, kidnapping, theft, yandere, mer-creature yandere, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, involuntary physical change, mention of past noncon, some nsfw themes and moments, breeding kink, oviposition and mention of past oviposition, lactation kink,

~~~~~~~~

You slowly awoke, feeling oddly weightless and almost like the air around you was heavy. It took a moment for you to wake up further before you realized a handful of things simultaneously. The first was that you were suspended in water, the second was that you could still breathe, and finally you realized that there were two new attachments to either side of your ribs.

Impulsively, you reached up to grab at the odd things only to see they were actually sewn into your soft skin. It was more than a bit disorienting to see the new attachments and to see the extremely swollen state of your soft stomach.

As you scratched and tried to pull at the surprisingly tender attachments, the sound of clattering rocks made you stop your wild attempts and turn to look at the source of the sound. Though the light was limited minus what seemed to be some sunlight filtering down from a few cracks in the top of the stone cavern you were in, you could see an oddly familiar man. He was at the mouth of the cavern- which seemed to be the only entrance or exit- and spoke once he saw he had your attention.

"Darling, you can't take them off. I have ensured they will remain affixed to you for the remainder of your life. Even if you did damage them somehow, I would not allow you to drown."

You scoffed angrily. Despite the fact you were clearly in some kind of liquid, you knew humans couldn't breathe beneath the water. Clearly you were under the influence of something to make you think you were in water.

"Drown? What the hell? Where am I? The fuck are these things? Why the hell do I look pregnant-?"

The raven haired man pressed a finger to your lips to silence your questions and you vaguely felt the desire to bite the finger he held against your soft flesh. You fought against the impulse as you glared at the man who seemed more amused with your anger than anything. It was the octopus-man from the aquarium- Chrollo- and quickly your memories began to return to you.

You remembered being in the aquarium late at night and you remembered the man attacking you. Beyond that, you vaguely remembered the way he forced himself onto you and made you comply with his demands. It was difficult to remember much else beyond that and you felt anger bubble up in you.

"You can drown if you remove your new gills. The... Original owner... Won't be needing them anymore. You are in one of my dens. Well, in one of the back caverns of my den, to be exact. I will be keeping you here until you adjust to your new aquatic life. As for why you appear pregnant," he paused and two of his tentacles came up to caress your stomach, the other tentacles preventing you from stopping his gentle exploration, "it is because you are pregnant. You are full of my brood and I have no intention of allowing you to get away from me. You're stuck with me."

~~~~~~~~

Chrollo kissed your shoulders gently as he held you in a warm embrace, his tentacles and arms wrapped around you to keep you close. Each slow drag of his lips across your skin made you shiver slightly, your heart fluttering in your chest like the fragile wings of a butterfly. Thousands of questions rolled around in your mind, but the one that bothered you the most kept coming up.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Chrollo didn't stop the lazy way he traced his fingers and tentacles over your back, letting out a hum of contemplation. He didn't answer for a moment as his hand came to a brief pause when it reached your very swollen stomach, fingertips dancing over the delicate skin. You disliked the way he smiled and seemed to marvel at your swollen insides as if he were beyond pleased with the way you were stuffed full.

"I brought you here for the sole purpose of filling you with my eggs. My brood already grows within you and your body has adapted excellently to carrying them."

You felt dread wash over you, unable to tell if you were crying or not beneath the water. Honestly, you didn't know if you could cry anymore. Chrollo seemed to sense your sorrow all the same and nuzzled your neck, his attempt at soothing you only upsetting you further.

"Why..? Why me?"

"I have explained this to you already, Darling. You are unique and different from that which I expect from others. That and your ever intoxicating scent appeals to me in a way others do not."

The silence was heavy and seemed even heavier under the water, faint sunlight filtering into the underwater den Chrollo kept you in. Even if you tried to escape, you had no idea if you could go back to being on land for very long given the odd gills that you woke up with. They certainly seemed like a permanent attachment, meaning that he was likely to do this to you multiple times, not content with just one clutch of eggs growing within you.

"So, you... You put your eggs in me?"

"Yes, and I intend to do it countless more times after this."

"But I don't want to carry your eggs for you!"

"I don't remember ever asking what you want."

The harsh words made you recoil as best you could in his grasp, the octopus man almost seeming amused with your distressed attempts to get away from him. You barely put any space between the two of you as there seemed to be no true escape from the tentacles that held you. One adjusted its grasp and lightly dragged over your aching chest, making you unconsciously whimper and flinch in response.

"Sore breasts?"

"How- how do you..?"

"I can tell your body is preparing for our brood. It is ensuring there is enough of your warm and flavorful milk for our brood to feast on. You've been producing milk these past few days."

It was surprising to hear this as you hadn't even realized that you were lactating, let alone having been doing it for days now. You were still trying to adjust to life under the water, though your eyes were adjusted long before you opened them to your new surroundings, your mind was struggling to catch up. Of course he would know more about your body at this moment than you would, it seemed to just be another one of his unfair advantages.

"I don't know or care how you know what my... my milk tastes like, but-"

"You truly believe I wouldn't help myself while you rest?"

"I didn't want to know! Either way," you crossed your arms in an attempt to cover your chest, "I'm sure as hell not letting you have anymore-"

"It has never once been about what you want, but what I can make you do. Right now, I have a duty to take care of my mate, and your breasts are obviously sore, so let me relieve some of that pressure."

Despite the way you tried to struggle against him, Chrollo easily used his tentacles to pin your arms to your side. The vague covering he gave you to cover yourself almost instantly came untied and gave him access to your tender breasts. He didn't immediately latch his lips around your soft peak, instead he took a moment to cruelly pinch the sensitive peaks with an almost sadistic grin.

"I may not let our brood feast on your rich milk... It may have to be something for me exclusively..." He flicked your sore nipples and chuckled when you let out a squeal of discomfort, "How precious... Are they that sore, dear one? Let me help drain some of that milk that's causing your discomfort."

Before you could argue with him, he latched his mouth on your perked breast, intensely suckling as he let out soft moaning noises. You whined loudly as he gently kneaded your breast to get as much milk as possible, switching to your other breast to take an equal drink. Each intense suck made you flinch as you whimpered in response to the sensation, struggling against the tentacles until you could rest your hands on his shoulders to try and push him away.

He kept his mouth around your sensitive nipple and continued suckling, occasionally biting when you tried to remove him. It got to the point that the only thing you could do was let him do as he wished, finding the bites more painful than expected. Eventually he released your soft breast with a pop of his lips, finally giving you a rest.

"The sweetest cream..."

Chrollo seemed more than pleased with the way you had stopped struggling, a sly grin taking over his lips. He already knew you weren't going to be able to get away from him, especially since you were carrying his eggs inside of you. Besides, waiting outside of the den in the larger hollowed out volcano was the rest of the troupe.

They often shoaled together even if they would occasionally part for various reasons or purposes. This was one of the few times the entire troupe gathered together and had no immediate concerns. Chrollo knew that some of the troupe members were only present because they were curious about his new human mate.

The only other troupe member who has seen his mate was Machi and it was to check up on how your gills were healing. All of the other members were curious as Chrollo had never really had interest in others, let alone a human. Humans were food to them or interesting experiments to steal from, yet their leader- whom they all respected and adored- had taken a human as a mate.

There was little chance you would manage to get away from him with any efficiency before you were caught and returned to him.

He gently kissed your throat and two tentacles came up and caressed your swollen stomach.

"You know, I have plenty more eggs to stuff inside of you. I could keep you constantly stuffed full of my brood. Each clutch making your soft stomach bulge out..."

The slow way he stroked his hand across your skin sent chills down your body as you lay in his embrace.

"For now, as you are already stuffed to full capacity with my brood, I feel you should meet a certain group of my colleagues."

You wanted to argue against the idea of meeting any other sea creatures, seeing as your first interaction with him went so sideways. Chrollo seemed to be able to tell that you wanted to argue, his enigmatic smile never leaving his face.

"It wasn't a suggestion, Dearest."

~~~~~~~~

You slowly woke to the vague sensation of a light suction on your swollen nipples, whining as you came to consciousness. The feeling of tentacles wrapped around your engorged breasts and kneading them made you look down your front. Familiar ink black hair slowly waved with the water and his motions as Chrollo contently suckled on your warm breasts, happily feeding on your nutrient rich milk.

"Do you really have to do that whenever I sleep?"

Your complaint made Chrollo look up from where he was suctioned to your aching chest. He gently released your breast and licked his lips, seeming more than pleased with himself.

"I'm an opportunist feeder, Darling, I will take almost any meal available to me, even human."

"Then... Why didn't you eat me?"

"You don't smell like food to me, you have the scent of a mate."

You felt surprise run through you, wondering just what he meant by that. He just admitted that he would eat humans, but apparently your scent was not the same as other humans, enough so that he decided to mate you instead. Part of you wondered which you would have preferred if given the choice between the two.

Chrollo took advantage of your apparent mental absence to lightly squeeze his tentacles around you, holding you close to his chest and nuzzling your neck.

"Do you know what the best part about mating you was for me?"

You refused to entertain him with an answer, knowing he was going to tell you regardless of what you said.

"Stuffing you full of my eggs and seeing your warm stomach expand with each one, feeling them push into your womb. Every single one pumped into you, giving me endless pleasure and filling you up just right."

Chrollo let out a soft sound that was akin to a low hum, the noise sending shivers down your spine. The way he spoke was low and husky against your ear and clearly he took great pleasure from making you uncomfortable with his sultry purr. As you whined softly, he gently ran his fingers over your distended stomach as if worshipping your body.

"I can hardly wait to fill you up with the next brood, just watching your stomach stay nice and swollen for me."

Some part of you realized that Chrollo didn't care if you responded to him or if you were even listening. Clearly he was pleased with reminding himself that he had you trapped and planned to stuff you full of even more eggs. He kissed your forehead and cuddled close, his arms wrapped around your body.

"Go back to resting, Darling."

"Why, so you can feed on my milk again?"

"Yes. Now rest. I want you to meet my shoal soon."

[monstersandmaw]

Male dullahan x gn reader (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

OH boy, this is a personal one for me on a number of levels (which usually means it's gonna tank), but here's the first of my five new commissions - this one is for the incredibly supportive and sweet @doomfisthero.

It features one of the Supernatural Biker Gang I mentioned in this post, which a lot of you seemed to like, so I hope you're keen to meet the cheeky, goofball dullahan with a heart of gold! Not gonna lie, I went way over the agreed wordcount for this one because it's the world I've already started building, and it's got characters I've already been thinking of for a while.

Content: gender neutral reader who experiences severe anxiety around being pranked/practical joked, which occurs at one point in the story. There’s no malicious intent or bullying behind the prank, and it gets discussed afterwards. The reader is a writer, doing research for a story about bikers, and has no idea that there's something a little 'extra' about this gang. Their friend, Adi, is dating one of them already, and I hope to write their story soon too.

Wordcount: 9216

“God, this was such a stupid idea,” you muttered as you approached the only shop on that wide, empty side street. Its metal sign swung gently back and forth in a light, autumn breeze, displaying a full moon on a black background, with a cruiser-style motorbike silhouetted in front of it, and the white, artfully-distressed font underneath it read ‘Full Moon Motorcycles’.

A second later, your friend stepped out onto the pavement and you knew there was no turning back. Adrianne grinned at you, so you kicked your feet back into motion and closed the distance between you, offering her a small hug. Your leather messenger bag bumped against your hip with the movement, and you wondered if perhaps you should have left your notebook and stuff at home for this first time. It felt more like an interview than getting to know them, and you were worried the group of unfamiliar bikers might take offence that you essentially wanted to study them for your novel.

“Ready to meet the gang?” she laughed, sweeping her messy, dark blonde hair back out of her eyes. “God, you look terrified. Come on, they’re nice! Except maybe Pixie. Don’t mess with her, but she’s not here today. Or Demon, but even he’s ok when you get to know him, I swear.”

“Not helping, Adi,” you grumbled.

Ever since she’d started working for Dahlia Ink across town about six months ago, Adrianne had been hanging around with the group of bikers who all got their ink done there it seemed, and it had almost felt like serendipity in action when she’d told you about them over coffee last weekend. You didn’t tend to talk much about your writing, even with your friends, but you trusted Adi, and she’d always been supportive of your career as an author, so you’d shyly opened up to her about your latest idea for a story featuring a group of bikers. You did leave out the part where the bikers in your story were mostly vampires and werewolves, with a few other supernatural species thrown in as well. Fantasy had always been your comfort-genre, but people had snickered in the past and made you feel like it wasn’t a ‘serious’ genre that ‘serious’ writers pursued, so you’d omitted it this time while telling her about it.

“It’s the perfect excuse for you to come and finally meet Țepeș then!” she’d blurted excitedly into the foam of her cappuccino, her green-brown eyes going wide with excitement at the idea of including you in her group of new friends. They all had weird nicknames, and you had no idea if it was a ‘biker’ thing or just a ‘them’ thing, but you’d been burning up with curiosity about them ever since she’d first started dating the one called Țepeș. “I’ve been dying to find an excuse for you to come meet him. Plus you can ask him anything you want to know for your story, and — oh…”

Her face had fallen, and you’d frowned, heart dropping already. “What?”

“Eh, he’s… he’s not completely non-verbal, but Țepeș doesn’t exactly find talking easy. Maybe you could come to the shop and meet the rest of them instead though? I’m sure Pickle or Pumpkin would love to talk your ear off about their bikes…”

“I dunno, I don’t want to get in the way,” you’d said, trying not to let that tiny, kindling ember of hope in your chest wink out completely. “But if you wanted to ask them…?”

She’d run it past her boyfriend, and Țepeș had said he’d ask Hank. Hank, apparently, was the guy who ran the bike shop where they’d all met and first formed their group, and two nights later, you’d got a text in all caps from Adi saying ‘BASIC BIKER 101 FOR WRITERS IS ON!!!! When are you next free?!!!’

A week later, you and your messenger bag with notebook and pens had shown up outside Full Moon Motorcycles, with little clue what to expect, and a heart full of trepidation.

Adrianne giggled as she ushered you inside, and to your relief, you found there were only two other people inside instead of a shop full of strangers. An array of bikes for sale was lined up around the right hand side of the space, and against the back wall there was a wooden counter almost like a bar, where the vintage till and a few key chains were displayed, while the left side of the space appeared to be a more general spot for tinkering and hanging out. Even with the light flooding in through the two huge, picture windows on either side of the door, the lighting was soft, and the polished concrete floor created a mellow atmosphere. The scent of coffee and motor oil hung heavy in the air, and you found it oddly comforting as you soaked it all up.  

Behind the counter, a stocky man with greying, wavy hair that wasn’t quite long enough to tie back but was too long to look tidy smiled you and raised a meaty hand. His blue tartan shirt stretched precariously over a hearty paunch, and he exuded a jovial kind of warmth as his honey-brown eyes crinkled. “Hey there,” he said. “I’m Hank, though most people round here just call me Dad —”

“— he adopts literally everyone who walks through that door, so congrats on joining the family,” Adi laughed.

“Take your pick on names,” Hank chortled. “I understand you’re a writer…” He seemed interested and a little impressed, which was a bit of a confidence boost.

“Yeah,” you croaked and cleared your throat. “Yeah… uh… thank you for letting me hang out here for a bit. I don’t know anything about bikes… I’m just looking to learn a bit so it makes sense for my novel, you know? I’m not going to get in anyone’s way.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” he smiled, gesturing dismissively with his massive paw of a hand. “You just ask what you like and we’ll do our best to help you out. You must know Țepeș already if you’re Adi’s friend?”

You shook your head and Hank looked across the room to where the other person was lurking at the back of the space. You hadn’t noticed Adi leaving your side, but when you turned around, you found her standing with both hands pressed fondly against the chest of the tall, imposing biker dressed all in black and wearing his helmet too, which you thought was an odd choice. But what did you know about the habits of bikers? You were there to learn after all; learn and observe.

Adi waved you over, and you swallowed your nerves and cast Hank a farewell glance before approaching. When Adi stepped back, Țepeș pushed himself off the wall and held out his hand to you to shake. It, like the rest of him, was covered in leather or padded gear. There wasn’t a scrap of skin showing on him anywhere, and with your own face reflected in his black visor, it was impossible to get a read on him.

As if she’d read your mind, Adi smacked Țepeș in the chest with the back of her hand and said, “At least put your visor up, you big, intimidating doofus.”

He snorted a silent laugh and lifted the catch on his visor to reveal a sliver of pale skin and irises as black as the rest of his leather gear. Like Hank’s though, his eyes were kindly, and he closed them briefly as he inclined his head in a kind of apologetic bow. You shrugged, and he laughed breathily.

Hank chose that moment to come over, and you jumped as he clapped you on the shoulders. How a man built like a grizzly in autumn had moved so quietly was a mystery. “Come on, Țepeș, why don’t we give our new friend a demonstration of how a bike works? Since your Ducati is in, why don’t we use that?”

Țepeș gave a quick nod, and ducked away through the door that stood in the centre of the back wall, and a moment later, he pushed an absolute monster of a bike out into the empty space. He jutted his chin towards the front door, and Adi nipped over to open it for him, and when you frowned, she laughed. “That Streetfighter is so fucking loud,” she snorted. “You do not want him starting it up in here.”

“And nor do I!” Hank called, now mysteriously back behind the till though you hadn’t heard him leave. You made a mental note to weave something like that into your story for the supernatural biker characters, and then nodded, feeling sheepish, and followed the two of them out of the shop and onto the quiet side-street outside.

Until six months ago, Adi hadn’t known anything about bikes either, so she used your introductory tutorial as a kind of test for herself, interspersed with little glances up at Țepeș to check that she’d got it right. He either nodded or pointed to correct her, but he didn’t speak. She hadn’t been kidding about him being mostly non-verbal.

After Adi had shown you the basics of the bike’s anatomy, Țepeș patted the seat of the bike and gestured to her to get on it, but she laughed and shook her head. “No way, babe. I’m way too short.”

He put his fists comically on his hips and shook his head, then patted the seat again like he was trying to get a wilful cat up onto a chair.

She made a noise of protest, but did swing a leg over and then hoisted herself evenly into the seat, both legs dangling freely a good way off the ground.

“Happy now?” she shot at him and he nodded emphatically, bringing both hands to the sides of his helmet in a way that mimicked a person losing their mind over a cute kitten. “You’re lucky I love you, you overgrown dork,” she muttered. “Anyway,” she said, turning back to you. “Since this beast has made me get up here, I’m going to start his bike. Not so funny now that I could actually fuck it up, is it?” she grinned.

Țepeș remained perfectly still, and you got the impression it was a comical warning.

“I can’t flat-foot it,” she said to you, “So I’m gonna rest my left foot on the curb after I’ve flicked the kickstand up,” she said. “You can start it with the kickstand down, but if you put it into first, it'll cut out.”

You noted that down, and let her get on with the rest of the sequence uninterrupted, which seemed a lot more complicated than you’d imagined.

Near the end of your tutorial on how to start a bike and the basics of clutch control, and the apparent struggle to find neutral, the sound of a number of approaching engines tore through the quiet afternoon. You looked back over your shoulder to see three sports bikes round the corner and make their way towards you.

The three riders couldn’t have been more different. The one you noticed first was riding a big, brash, bright orange bike that reminded you a bit of a sporty looking dirt bike, and he was wearing, of all things, a black and white cow onesie, with a cow helmet cover complete with fabric horns and ears.

“Fucking Pumpkin,” Adi laughed. “Honestly. I think you’ll love him.”

“Pumpkin?” you asked, wondering how on earth he’d got that name. Then again, Țepeș was a pretty unusual nickname. Perhaps he was a vampire under all that leather, shielding himself from the fury of the sun with his biker gear just so he could spend more time with his human lover during the day… You yanked your over-active imagination back into the present and out of your fantasy novel, and watched the trio of bikers approach down the quiet side street.

“Yeah, Pumpkin’s his name. It’s because he’s a —” Țepeș elbowed Adi in the ribs sharply enough that she had to grab the handlebars to stop herself toppling off his bike. Her eyes went wide and she instantly clicked her jaw shut.

As an author, you were used to watching and studying people, and noting your observations for later. Another writer you knew online had called it ‘cataloguing the everyday’, and it was an apt description. Adi had very nearly given away something huge about Pumpkin, and Țepeș had given her a silent but stern warning.

“Because he loves pranks, like on Halloween?” she finished a little too quickly. “He dresses up with silly helmet covers all the time and he likes to play jokes on people.”

Maybe he wasn’t your kind of person at all. The very idea of having a practical joke pulled on you was enough to make you feel sick and shaky all over. You'd always hated them, and they’d always left you feeling devastated and on-edge if they happened to you. The more you trusted the person, the worse it felt afterwards.

Țepeș’ huge hand landed carefully on your shoulder joint and you looked up to find him smiling reassuringly at you. At least, you thought he was smiling reassuringly. All you could see were his glinting black eyes that were creased at the corners, and the way the apples of his pale cheeks were slightly more squished than usual behind the padding in his helmet.

You tried out a smile of your own, and then realised that Adi was talking again.

“He’s such a goofball, but that’s got to be his craziest outfit yet! You should see his other helmet covers; they’re all bonkers. My favourite is the pink rabbit one.”

Țepeș nodded once in agreement and let go of your shoulder. You swayed a little at the loss, feeling untethered.

“The guy on the red Ducati is Demon, and the short one on the Ninja in the middle is Pickle.”

When the newcomers spotted the three of you standing around Țepeș’ bike, Pumpkin revved raucously, almost seeming to make his bike laugh with joy at the sight of you. Then he hauled it up into a massive wheelie, only dropping back down once he’d torn past you in a near-vertical pose. Your heart was in your mouth the whole time, but he looked relaxed and even amused behind that absurd costume as he landed it and swerved the bike around to make his way back towards you while the other two came over in a more sedate fashion. In fact, they were so sedate it reminded you of two sharks approaching, and your mouth went dry. Adi had said they were cool with you being there and asking questions, but just then, it didn’t really feel like it.

The one riding the lurid, neon green bike was so short that you wondered for a crazy second if maybe they were a child. The owner of the red bike revved his something wicked as he cruised to a stop, and you had to fight the urge to step back. It felt like being roared at full in the face by a lion, and it didn’t help at all that the guy had curling ram’s horns adorning his black helmet. Even though it was a nippy autumn day, he was wearing a white t-shirt that showed off a golden tan and a truly impressive physique, and his black jeans had a rip in the knee that added to his tough-guy appearance.

Standing beside his own bike, Țepeș folded his arms and jutted his chin in a warning. Demon revved his deafening bike once more though, and the back wheel skimmed from side to side on the tarmac as blue smoke churned up into the air.

Țepeș shook his head and a few seconds later, Demon stopped his mini burnout, and instead leaned forwards on the bike, resting one arm casually on the tank. His whole attention was fixed on you and you tried hard not to regret all of this. It was research. You were here for your story. It was fine. His visor was tinted like Țepeș’ was, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze through the plastic just as clearly as if there had been nothing blocking his eyes from yours.

“Just giving a welcome to your new friend, Țepeș,” the guy purred in a silky baritone that made you think of teeth in the dark.

As the brief puff of acrid smoke from his tyres cleared, the short rider flipped their visor up and regarded you with beady, golden eyes that had to be contacts, surely? Even the pupils were slitted like a cat’s. 

“Who’s this?” came a reedy, tenor voice from under the helmet. Definitely not a child after all, and their skin had a strange, greenish tinge to it that you initially took to be makeup until you realised it went all the way down their cheeks as well. Tattoos? Some kind of condition? You tried not to stare.

Before either you or Adi could respond to their question, the cow onesie rider screeched to a comical halt beside the other two, locking up the front wheel and making the rear of his bike kick up like a bronco, and Adi shook her head. “Pumpkin, honestly. What are you like?”

“I’m Legen-dairy!” he grinned, gesturing wide with both hands. “Oh, hey! New friend?!” he exclaimed, waving enthusiastically when he saw you standing awkwardly beside Țepeș’ bike. He had a lilting Irish accent and a playful intonation that warmed you to him immediately, despite knowing about his penchant for practical jokes.

“Don’t mind Pumpkin,” Adi smiled at you. “He’s… something else.”

“I’m highly a-moo-sing, is what I am,” the guy chuckled. His words sounded clearer than the others behind their helmets, and you wondered if it was something about the design that made it easier to hear him.

“Oh god, please stop with the cow puns,” Pickle groaned, casting him a withering look with those unusual eyes.

“But Pickle, I’m udderly fantastic!”

“Stop.”

“This is just plain bull-ying!” Pumpkin whined, and then he started to bop up and down on his bike as he sang, “My milkshake brings—”

“If you howl one more out of tune word, Demon will eat you for breakfast, and not in a fun way,” Pickle said, casting a glance at the biker with the horns on his helmet.

For answer, the biker in question cocked his head just a little to one side, and Pumpkin slumped in his seat, arms and legs dangling comically, head lolling forwards so that the soft horns on his helmet cover flopped. He let out a long, sad mooing noise sound that dissolved into giggles at the end, and Pickle punched him on the arm.

“Loser,” Pickle snorted with obvious fondness.

“Anyway, I want you to meet my friend,” Adi cut in, turning to you. “I’m sorry you had to meet Pumpkin when he’s in this mood, but —”

“Moo-d!” Pumpkin interrupted triumphantly and immediately burst out laughing. He almost tipped backwards off his big, orange bike. Even you managed to crack a shy smile at that one. It was infectious.

“I give up,” Pickle said, and hopped down off his green Kawasaki, disappearing into the shop without a backward glance just as Hank stepped out.

“How’s that lesson going?” he asked you.

“I’m not planning on riding solo any time soon,” you smiled, “But I’ve got enough of an idea of how things work to start writing, I think.”

Hank nodded and, glancing around at Pumpkin who was still bouncing up and down and making his suspension creak a little, said, “Ah, they’re all idiots, but they’re kind, and they’re my idiots.”

He introduced you by name, and told Pumpkin and Demon why you were there. Pumpkin seemed intrigued, tilting his head to one side and calming his crazy energy a little as he regarded you through the tinted visor, but Demon growled softly as he pushed himself upright again and folded his arms across his ripped chest, muttering something about letting their guard down again.

Țepeș moved away from his bike, petting the back of Adi’s blonde head in a fond, distracted gesture, and then signalled for Demon to follow him inside, which, to your surprise, the big guy did. He walked like a Greek god — like he owned the place and not Hank — but it was clear that he had respect for Țepeș.

Pumpkin took advantage of their absence and leaned a little way off his bike towards you. “So, you’re a writer? That’s pretty cool. And you’re writing a… a book? A story? About bikers?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s not the main focus, but it’s a big part of it.” If you hadn’t wanted to open up to Adi about it being a supernatural fantasy story, you sure as heck weren’t going to admit it to a bunch of intimidating, high-octane bikers. “It was Adi who suggested I come and learn a bit more about it all from you guys though…” you said, not wanting them to think you’d just inserted yourself into their group without invitation. Especially given Demon’s weird reaction.

“Awesome,” Pumpkin said, fist-bumping Adi then turning back to you. “You gonna ride with us? We’re all heading out in a bit so you should come too!”

“I… maybe?” you faltered. That had not been on the cards for the day, but the more you thought about it, the more your heart began to race.

“The KTM has a passenger seat,” Pumpkin said, gesturing behind him and patting his pillion seat. “You can be my backpack if you like! I promise I won’t wheelie. I’m not taking the onesie off though,” he added, mooing and shaking his head so that the fabric horns waggled comically.

His energy and enthusiasm really were infectious. He bounced up and down again like an excitable, cow-print puppy, and you bit your lip. The idea of holding onto him, of being perched on the back of his mad, orange bike, was oddly… enticing. Even with his embarrassing costume.

“Come on,” he said. “It’ll be fun! It’s only a short ride because Coco’s Honda’s playing up for some reason,” he added. “Is she here yet? I don’t see her little bumblebee…”

“Bumblebee?” you asked.

“Coco’s bike is a Honda Hornet,” Adi supplied. “She’s got these little antennae for her helmet too. It’s so cute. And no,” she added to Pumpkin. “You guys are the first.”

It didn’t take long for the rest of the day’s riders to arrive, and soon you watched a screaming pink bike roll up, with its rider wearing baby pink leathers and a pink helmet. Her name was Barbie, appropriately enough, and a few minutes later, a skinny guy in all black leathers with a black helmet bearing a decal like a maw full of teeth pulled up, alongside Coco on her black and yellow Honda Hornet that looked very much like the Transformer.

“I see why you call it Bumblebee,” you said to Adi, who was standing on the pavement with you, chatting and slipping you random bits of information about both the bikes and the bikers. The others had all gone inside, leaving you with Adi still casually sitting astride her boyfriend’s enormous, black Ducati Streetfighter outside in the sunshine, and honestly it was nice to catch your breath and let your heart rate settle again.

Pumpkin, apparently, was only a few years older than you, and he had moved to the city to get away from his family and their career expectations for him. His name was actually Callahan, or Cal, but literally everyone called him Pumpkin.

Pickle was non-binary and surprisingly a full decade older than you. They lived with their mother, who needed a bit of extra care these days, and had taken up riding only a year or so ago. Demon, Adi didn’t discuss at all, and she said little about Barbie other than that she kept herself to herself a lot and was pretty shy.

Coco came out to soak up some autumn sunshine a while later, and was one of the only bikers who actually took off her helmet. Beneath it, she had thick, wavy, chocolate brown hair and brown eyes that made you want to drown in them, and a smile so pretty it made your heart skip several beats. She gave off the kind of energy that made you feel safe and relaxed, and you let out a long, slow exhale, feeling the sun wash up over your skin.

That peace lasted until Demon stormed out of the shop, followed by Pumpkin, Țepeș, and Pickle.

“Everything ok?” Adi whispered to Țepeș when he came over and hugged her tightly from behind before passing her a spare helmet. He nodded and jerked his thumb towards his bike. “Yeah, I’m good to go. You coming?” she asked you, and you found yourself nodding before you’d even realised.

“Yes!” Pumpkin bayed in triumph and you startled, not having heard him return to his bike. “You’re mine! I claim you. You’re my backpack!”

“Like anyone else wants a human for baggage,” Demon muttered so quietly you weren’t sure you were supposed to have heard it. As he passed, he slammed his visor back down and you could have sworn that he’d had completely scarlet eyes. You wondered if you were losing your mind a little bit, or if the fantasy of your novel was beginning to bleed into the real world through your over-active imagination.  

Pumpkin practically vaulted back up onto his orange bike and he held out his hand to you. “Alright! My precious and beautiful backpack,” he said, “Hop on!”

Easier said than done, you thought, ignoring the compliment. You watched your reflection distort in his visor as he turned his head when you faltered anxiously.

“I’ll look after you, I promise. But I’m gonna rely on you to tell me if Pickle’s coming for my killswitch, ok?”

Recalling your brief lesson with Țepeș, you eyed the red switch on his right handlebar and said, “That?”

“Yeah, that. Protect it at all costs,” he giggled. “I mean, not all costs, obviously but… Actually, scratch that. It’s Ninja you wanna watch out for. He’s a sneaky, sneaky boy. He blends in so no one sees him coming…” A few of them laughed in a way that made you feel like there was more to it than just an inside joke, and your stomach churned.

A glance back at the skinny guy on the black bike behind you revealed Ninja tilting his hands outwards in a ‘who, me?’ kind of gesture. Hank came over and gave you a helmet, taking your messenger bag from you and promising to keep it safe behind the counter. You slid the helmet on and buckled it up, trying not to feel like an impostor.

Getting aboard wasn’t as hard as you’d thought it was going to be, with brief instruction from Adi and Pumpkin on how to put your feet on the pegs, though you did clunk your helmet against Pumpkin’s when you leaned too far forward, but he made things easier by telling you to hold him round the waist. He turned back over one shoulder and said, “It’s kinda forward, but I don’t mind. You’re cute and I don’t want you falling off.” He had such a lovely voice — warm and rich and reassuring — and you found yourself laughing softly.

“If you say so.”

Pumpkin talked a mile a minute and you really had to work to process everything he was saying as it tumbled out of him in a wild, happy torrent. “You are cute! You’re gonna have a blast today. I can’t believe I’m your first! Oh, and watch out for silly string too. I don’t think Pickle has any in their pocket today, but last time they got me good and it was all over my helmet and my orange baby,” he added petting the tank of his bike.

Your heart lurched at the idea of these pranks maybe escalating, and you tried to swallow down the nausea; you did not want to be sick in a motorcycle helmet. The cold sweat took a while to evaporate and you were sure Pumpkin would feel your heartbeat as you clung onto him before he’d even started the bike. The cow onesie did add a little levity though, and you tried not to feel too silly.

When Adi was safely aboard Țepeș’ bike, Țepeș revved his readiness a few times from the rear of the group, and Pumpkin nodded. “Forward!” he yelled, pointing like he was leading a cavalry charge as he nudged up his kickstand and prepared to draw away.

Adi had been right.

The ride was amazing.

Terrifying, exhilarating, wonderful, and, in the strangest way possible, it made you forget everything.

All you could focus on was the way Pumpkin moved with the bike like it was a part of him — almost like a rider and his horse — and on trying to move with him as he leaned into the corners. He was slim and fit beneath your grip, and he didn’t seem to be wearing any kind of padding under the onesie, but he was wearing biker boots instead of ordinary shoes. There was something alluring about the fact you’d not seen his face and he’d not taken his helmet off. Țepeș had a similar vibe, but it was Pumpkin and his wild, silly energy you found yourself drawn to. It was almost euphoric to be able to press the front of your body against this kind, funny stranger’s back and let him sweep you along the roads.

Of course, there were shenanigans at the first red light you came to.

Pickle came for Pumpkin’s killswitch immediately — almost like they were testing you — but you tapped Pumpkin on the shoulder when you saw Pickle stalking up the line of bikes. Ninja covered his killswitch and waggled a finger at Pickle, and when Pumpkin saw who was coming, he patted your thigh a few times. “Nice one,” he said with a grin evident in his voice. “Best early warning system and best backpack ever! You can ride with me every time!”

You glowed with pride, even though you knew it was probably only fun and games, and when Pickle failed to catch Pumpkin’s killswitch and the lights changed, you laughed with the rest of them as Pickle bolted back to their Ninja and hopped comically onto it at the very last second while Pumpkin sped away fast enough to make you yelp and grip him hard around the middle. You felt him laugh and held him tighter.

He petted your hands where they were laced securely in front of him, and even though you didn’t have comms in your helmet, you got the message: ‘I’ve got you’. You did feel safe with him despite his love of pranks, and you were literally trusting him with your life as you rode behind him.

When the ride came to an end about an hour later, and the group drew to a halt at Full Moon Motorcycles again, you were shaky with the aftereffects of adrenaline and from simply holding on, but beneath your helmet, you were grinning wildly. Secretly, you already couldn’t wait for the next ride and prayed he would ask you again.

Pickle pulled their bike up on your right, the green Ninja 400 idling gently, and when they killswitched Pumpkin’s bike at last, Pumpkin guffawed, but without missing a beat he extended his right leg and tapped the gear lever down to put Pickle’s bike into first, making the bike stall and lurch forwards.

“Gotcha!” he crowed, and then helped you off the back by letting you steady yourself on his shoulders. “And for the pièce de résistance,” he said, fishing in the pouch of his onesie, and he turned something cylindrical in your direction. “I was saving this for Pickle, but since it’s your first ride, you deserve a decent celebration!”

With a loud bang and a flurry of coloured squares of paper, a confetti cannon went off in your face and you screeched in shock, tripping over your heels and landing hard on the pavement behind you. The pieces of paper fluttered down around you while panic and fear and everything you hated about being pranked exploded out of you. Your heartbeat went through the roof. You just glimpsed the horns of Demon’s helmet in the doorway to the shop, and your heart dropped when you saw he was laughing.

Pumpkin was laughing too, and pointing, and beside him Pickle clapped their gloved hands and crooned, “Oh man, he got you good!”

He had got you good, and you hated it.

You hated that it was just a silly, harmless prank, but you were reacting like he’d done something serious. You hated that you couldn’t just laugh it off the way they all did. You hated that you took it so seriously; that it felt like the worst kind of betrayal of that fragile trust you’d started to put in a stranger. And then, behind the visor of your helmet, the tears began to flow uncontrollably.

A huge figure appeared in your blurred vision and you looked up to find Țepeș kneeling down beside you. He blocked the others from your sight with his massive body, and he lifted his visor to show his black eyes full of concern.

You nodded, trying to pull yourself together and grateful beyond belief that the helmet was still covering your face, even though it felt like you were running out of oxygen in there. Pulling yourself together was like trying to hold a bag full of sand with fraying seams. You were seeping and spilling out all over the place and you couldn’t stop. You tried to tell yourself it was just a confetti cannon. You tried to tell yourself it was just a bit of fun.

You tried, and failed.

“I’m… I’m ok… I’m…” you gulped, aware of how choked your voice sounded.

Țepeș stood and held out a hand, pulling you to your feet and ushering you carefully inside. You didn’t miss the way he put himself between you and Demon, who was still snickering in the doorway, and you let him lead you into the shop and into the back room.

He snagged a box of tissues from under the shop’s counter in passing and guided you into a chair. He signalled for you to undo your helmet, which you did with shaking fingers. “I’m sorry,” you gulped as you drew it off over your head and set it on the floor. “I’m sorry I’m overreacting.”

Țepeș shook his head and squeezed your shoulder, offering you a tissue.

“It’s just a prank, I know that, but…”

Again, he squeezed your shoulder, and you took a deeper, steadier breath.

“I hate pranks. Even the harmless ones. I always overreact like this. I’m sorry. It’s not his fault, but… I thought… I thought maybe he… he wouldn’t…”

A knock on the door made you jump, and Țepeș made a ‘stay there’ gesture with his hand and ducked out of the room. A short, seemingly one-sided conversation passed outside while you fought to control yourself again, and then Pumpkin ducked inside.

“Hey,” he said, and your heart broke a little at the change in his energy. It was like he’d completely deflated. He was still wearing the cow onesie though, which brought a slightly hysterical chuckle to your lips before you could stop it. “I’m so sorry,” he said, dropping to one knee in front of your chair. “I… I didn’t think you’d react like that.”

“It’s not you,” you said, sniffling and turning away, cuffing at your eyes. “I just overreacted.”

“You didn’t overreact,” he said, and your brain screeched to a halt.

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have done it to you. I didn’t know if you were cool with it, and I just assumed that… that because everyone else likes my pranks… that you’d be ok with it too, and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll never ever pull anything like that on you again. Ever.” He crossed his thumb across his heart. “I swear on my True Name.”

The wording was odd, but the air seemed to crystallise around you for a second, and your breath caught. “Like a Fae,” you mumbled without thinking.

He tilted his helmeted head a little. “Yeah,” he said and his voice had an odd ring to it. “You… You know about… about the Fae?”

“I’m writing a book…” you croaked, not really thinking about what you were saying. “Supernatural theme… I’ve always written fantasy stuff… Look, I’m sorry. I’m over-sharing about stuff that isn’t even real. I’m good,” you said, and stood up abruptly, setting your borrowed helmet down on the chair and turning to look at him. He was on his feet again, but he was just standing there.

You walked out into the main shop but he called your name and you halted and turned back around. “Yeah?”

“Are… Are you gonna come back?”

You bit your lip. You probably had enough to write the book now — the biker part of it wasn’t even the main focus after all — but until the prank, you’d felt included and welcomed, and, as you thought about it, the prank had also been meant to welcome you into the fold. It wasn’t Pumpkin’s fault that you had reacted the way you did.

“You want me to?” you asked.

“Please,” he said. “Please, I’d love it. I’ve… I’ve never had anyone I’ve wanted to be my backpack before, and you rode like a natural today,” he added, taking a step towards you. “Please. I promise no one will do any pranks when you’re with us. No silly string, no confetti cannons.”

“I don’t mind it… With the others, I mean,” you said, the words grinding out of you like a boulder uphill. “I mean… So long as it’s not me.”

“Ok, we’ll dial it back,” he compromised. “I’ll even give you one of my little stretchy sticky hands if you like so you can team up on Pickle with me. We duel at the lights sometimes. Does that count as a prank?”

You shook your head, fighting back a resurgence of emotions, mostly good this time.

“Ok. I’m really sorry,” he said again.

“I believe you,” you said.

“Thank you,” Pumpkin replied, his whole body looking relieved. It was amazing how expressive someone could be, even without being able to see their face. “Let me give you my number and I’ll text you when we’re going out next. Or… Or maybe we could go out just the two of us?”

That seemed like way more pressure than you’d been expecting, but you nodded all the same when you realised you weren’t put off by it at all.

As you left the shop not long afterwards, having recovered enough to let the red fade from your eyes, Demon looked you up and down and then approached Pumpkin. You glanced back over your shoulder to see him looming down over Pumpkin, and you just caught him growling, “What happens when you need to take that helmet off eh, Dullahan? You think that cute accent is going to be enough to hide the fact you don’t have a fucking head under there?”

Your breath caught and you tripped, turning away before either of them could notice your reaction.

For a moment, when Demon had spat the word ‘Dullahan’ you’d thought he’d said ‘Callahan’ — Pumpkin’s real name — but the instant he’d said Pumpkin didn’t have a head, your mind made the connection.

Dullahan.

A Fae without a head, traditionally a headless horseman.

The way Pumpkin had moved with his bike, like it was a living creature, had reminded you of a horse and its rider, and you had to wonder if the nickname ‘Pumpkin’ had come from the cartoonish depictions of Dullahans on Halloween with a pumpkin for a head instead of their real one. They did have a head, you knew from research for your writing, but they tended to keep it hidden since that was where their power resided. They could only be harmed if you hurt their head, or if they were wearing it when you attacked them.

But that was all fantasy, right?

Then Demon’s red eyes flickered across your memory, and the weird emphasis he’d put on the word ‘human’ in his snide remarks, and the way you’d thought maybe Țepeș was a vampire because he kept his skin covered up, and the fact that Pickle’s skin was entirely green and they had gold eyes with cat’s pupils… it was all way too much of a coincidence. Right?

You walked home in a daze, not even saying goodbye to Adi who was talking quietly with Țepeș in the long, late afternoon shadows cast by the bike shop’s wall.

Over the next few rides with Pumpkin, you tried to figure out a way to broach the topic. If you just blurted it out, you had no idea how the others would react, so you dropped little hints to Pumpkin that you were writing a supernatural story and that you’d been researching the supernatural for a while, and how you’d always hoped there was more out there than met the eye. You even mentioned it a couple of times on group rides to see how the others reacted, and predictably, it was Demon who bristled, and Pumpkin who looked uncomfortable. Like he had a secret he wanted to tell you.

Each time you did it, he looked torn, like he was right on the cusp of telling you the truth.

It finally came to an ugly head one afternoon as the riding season drew to a close in late October and you all came back from a huge group ride that had included a few more riders whom you’d not met before, but who evidently knew the rest of the group.

As you went inside to return the helmet that Hank always lent you, you caught the sound of an argument and hung back in the small storage room behind the main shop to avoid it, heart in your throat and the helmet forgotten in one hand.

Pickle was standing in the main area of the shop with their helmet dangling from their hand this time, and you gasped when you saw sharply-tapered ears and a row of pointed teeth in their mouth, and green skin that went all the way down below their collar. Definitely not a tattoo. They looked sharp, their features inhuman; like one of the goblins in your novel. If you’d needed confirmation that they weren’t human, this had to be it.

Pickle was  arguing with Adi and Demon, and Pumpkin was there too, looking helplessly from one to the other of them.

Demon was shouting, and he didn’t have his helmet on either. Perhaps they’d thought you’d already left. The horns that adorned his helmet were… actually attached to his head, not his helmet. He had horns. They obviously grew from his hairline, his black hair waving around them like a river of oil that had a rainbow sheen on it, and his eyes were a luminous, blood-red with slit pupils too. He rounded on Pumpkin like a Wolf on a rabbit. “You think just because we let Țepeș’ little human blood-bag in, we can risk exposing us all to just anyone?” Demon snarled. “I thought you wanted to keep our kind a secret? Now you’re siding with him?”

“Hey!” Adi exclaimed, but Pickle’s lip curled and they turned to her.

“He has got a point, Adi, though the blood-bag comment was way out of line,” Pickle said. “We have to be careful, but —”

“This is different,” Pumpkin interjected. “Ok? I’ve never been in love before, and I love —”

“No. It’s not fucking ok! This is the one place we get to be who we are,” Demon countered, his deep voice cracking as he clearly fought off tears. He sounded afraid and upset in a way that went right to your heart. “This is the one place where we can be safe, Cal, and you’re jeopardising it for all of us. And if we start letting humans in, if our secret gets out —”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Pickle said faintly, staring straight at you watching the argument unfold, stunned. They were arguing because of you. Because Pumpkin had taken a liking to you — in fact, he’d just said he loved you…

A pair of gold eyes and a pair of scarlet eyes stared at you, while Adi stood there hugging herself and looking hurt and unsure, and Pumpkin was standing stock still with his black helmet still on but you knew he was looking at you too. Was he going to defend you, or discard you and stick with his friends? They weren’t human. None of them was human. Demon’s eyes were blaring a violent red and he had horns growing out of his black hairline and curling back over his head, and there was a watercolour patch of red creeping over his golden tan as if he was losing control of his form. And Pickle was apparently some kind of goblin?

“You’re a Dullahan,” you said quietly, looking at Pumpkin. “A Fae.”

“You know?” Demon hissed, taking half a step towards you. “How the fuck do you know?” and then he shoved Pumpkin back with a hand at each shoulder. “You’ve taken your helmet off already? Did you disclose your head’s location while you were at it?”

Pumpkin shook his head vehemently but then he lifted his shiny, black helmet off in what looked like an act of defiance to Demon.

In the void where his head should have been there was a swirl of bluish-green smoke emanating from the stump of his neck, like the aurora in the night sky, and his skin was a dark, slate-blue colour. Your mind struggled to accept what you were seeing, but with the additional evidence of Pickle’s green skin and Demon’s horns, you knew it all had to be true.

Walking closer, as if moving through a dream, you ignored Demon’s constant, caged-animal growl, but you did jump when the door flew open and Țepeș burst in. He strode straight over to Adi and wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders, tugging her close and putting himself between her and the others. He cocked his head in an impatiently curious manner and Adi answered his silent demand.

“Demon’s laying into Pumpkin about flirting with a human while hiding what he is,” Adrianne said, glaring flatly at Demon. “And he called me your blood-bag,” she added.

Țepeș’ fists curled, leather creaking, and he took a long, slow inhale, as though he was trying very hard not to lose control and launch himself at Demon.

Before anything else could happen, someone clapped their hands abruptly from the side of the shop where the till and the bikes were arrayed, and you all jumped.

Hank was standing there and his eyes were glowing golden. “This family is built on trust,” he said in a low, gravelly bass, and you saw that his canines were chunkier and longer than they usually were, and his hair seemed thicker and fuller, his beard a little bushier around the chops. “And if we welcome each other into it, we must be prepared to trust each other’s judgement.”

“We’re just a little research project!” Demon said, rounding on you. “Adi told you what we are, didn’t she, so you thought you’d come and study us like a science experiment?”

You were still staring at Pumpkin’s empty collar and wondering in an odd, detached kind of way where it would be considered polite for you to look now — did you look at the point where his eyes would be if he had a head, or did you look at his chest? Only a second or two later did Demon’s words filter through and you blinked. “What?”

“You’re writing a fucking book about us! How does that count as trustworthy?”

“I’m not — It’s not about you,” you shot back. “The book isn’t about you. The protagonist is dating a vampire who’s in a biker gang, but… Adi didn’t tell me anything at all about you. I didn’t know you weren’t human until… until I overheard you accusing Pumpkin a few weeks ago. You said something about not having a head under his helmet, and you called him a Dullahan.” You swallowed thickly and watched the shock filter through everyone’s expressions at your words. “At first I thought you were saying his name, but then I realised you said ‘Dullahan’, not ‘Callahan’, and because I’ve looked into supernatural stuff, I put two and two together. I’ve known for weeks,” you said, chest heaving as you fought to maintain some semblance of composure while you finished your defence. “I could have said something, or I could have just not come back, but I trusted you guys.” Tears finally blurred your vision. “You treated me like family. Why would I betray you?”

Pumpkin moved first.

He strode across he space, dropping his helmet on the floor with a loud crack that would have made anyone who needed a helmet to protect their head wince, but you figured his was purely for decoration and disguise anyway. He wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you close to his body. His arms almost lifted you off the ground and he cradled your head in one hand while his left arm curled around your waist and squeezed you so tight you gave a little wheeze.

His voice came from nowhere in particular, just like it did when he had the helmet on, and he said, “You are family. And I love you. If I have to leave this one to be with you, I will.”

Your heart stopped for a moment before you hugged him back, desperately. “Don’t. Not for me.”

He only hugged you harder.

From somewhere off to your left, Hank gave a low, rumbling growl and then muttered, “Kids. Honestly.” Then a little louder, he said, “Demon, go and cool off somewhere. Țepeș, for God’s sake, stand down, and Pickle, go and put the fucking kettle on. I need a cup of tea with half a bottle of whisky in it after all this drama.”

Pumpkin drew back at last, and you looked up at the haze of blue-green smoke that seemed to swirl upwards in a constant stream, like a recently extinguished candle. “How can you see me?” you asked. And then, with a little more alarm in your tone, you yelped, “Wait, how can you see where you’re driving?”

He laughed and leaned in close enough that the aurora-light swirled across your vision and caressed your face with a feather light breath, and you shivered. “Magic,” he whispered.

Demon hadn’t gone anywhere, and was regarding you with a more level gaze. His eyes were still red though. “You knew?” he said. “All this time?”

“Yeah,” you croaked as you refocused your eyes from the magic of the Dullahan’s body to Demon’s very much corporeal body. “I mean, I suspected.”

He sighed, still staring you down. Pumpkin stepped a little in front of you, much as Țepeș had for Adi, but Demon shook his head. He worked his jaw for a second and then slowly held out his right hand. His skin was red instead of the golden tan it had been, and his nails were black and claw-like, but the gesture was one of reconciliation all the same. “Welcome to the family, I guess,” he muttered hoarsely.

You smiled faintly, and Pumpkin took your left hand in a show of solidarity, sliding his gloved fingers around yours while you briefly shook Demon’s hand. “I really didn’t know what you guys were when you said I could come and hang out with you, I swear.”

“I know,” Demon bit out. “I can taste a lie, and you’re telling the truth.”

With that, he stalked away and carefully slotted his helmet on over his horns. You realised that there were specially-tailored holes in the crown of it for the horns to fit through, but when it was on, some kind of glamour made it look like the horns were just attached to the surface of the helmet. Outside, he swung a leg over his Ducati and started it up, revving it and launching away amid a scream of tyres and over-worked engine.

“Give him time,” Pumpkin said as he looked down at you. In the swirl of the smoke at his neck you thought you could make out the features of a face for a moment, but you blinked and it vanished. “You’re family now though, so he won’t give you any more trouble.”

“He did just insult Adi pretty spectacularly,” you pointed out.

“And he’ll apologise to her,” Pumpkin said. Țepeș loomed threateningly beside Adi in silent agreement. “For now, you want to come for a ride with just me? Come back to my place maybe?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Bet you have questions too…”

“You going to fact-check my novel for me?” you asked with a playful smile, and Pumpkin laughed. It felt right to hear his loud, giggly laughter filling the space again.

“You’d actually have to let me read it for that, love, and you said you didn’t like showing your work to anyone until it was done.”

“I could make an exception for you, I guess,” you admitted with a bashful smile.

With Pumpkin still holding your hand, you paused on your way out to check on Adi, who looked a little hurt but otherwise alright, and you promised to check in with her later. Țepeș handed Pumpkin his helmet, and you let yourself be led from the shop. Your helmet was still in your slightly numb fingers, never having put it down, so you slid it back on with shaky hands.

After climbing with familiar ease back up onto the pillion seat of Pumpkin’s orange KTM, you snaked your arms around his middle and squeezed.

“I’m sorry it all came out this way,” Pumpkin said before he started up his bike. “This was not how I planned to tell you. I had no idea how I was going to break it to you, but that… that wasn’t it. I know you hate surprises, and that was a big one.”

“Not all surprises are bad,” you admitted. “And this one turned out ok in the end. Come on. I want to find out how much I’ve got wrong about the Fae.”

Pumpkin guffawed, his laughter audible even after he’d started up his bike and pulled away.

Turns out, you’d quite a lot wrong about the Fae after all, but Pumpkin was only too happy to put you right over pizza and a movie on his sofa that evening.

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one. If you did, please consider reblogging to show your support as well as leaving a like and/or a comment.

Do you want to see the other members of the group? Remember you can find out more about them here in this early post if you're curious. Tepes already has a love interest, and Ninja the mimic is claimed too, but if you're curious, lemme know!

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[eilaafterhours]

Resonance [Zayne]

Content: Smut, AFAB Reader, Overstimulation, Misuse of Evols, Mildly Dubcon, Oral Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Kitchen Sex, Couch Sex, Mating Press, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Creampie, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None (AFAB)

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Remember: I’ll block you if I catch your ageless or under age (not 18+) ass in my activity! 2040 blocked and counting :)

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Resonance. That was the name of your Evol. It made you sensitive to Metaflux, and a powerful supporting ally on the battlefield. However, in just a few days, you would learn of something else that triggered your sensitivity, as well as a different way to boost someone. 

You were not a greedy person, well, not more greedy than the average human. And yet, here you were, sitting beside Zayne on the couch as he typed away on some report. 

While you were incredibly horny. 

You wanted to push the laptop to the side, replacing it with yourself, so that you could rile him up enough to take you to the bedroom. But no, you were behaving yourself.

‘I need to get away from him for a minute,’ You thought as you stood. If you had to watch those deft fingers fly across the keyboard and not work your pussy, you’d scream. 

You made your way to the kitchen, set on getting one of your favorite snacks that you had hidden away from you to keep you from gobbling it all up (outta sight, outta mind as they say). You opened the cabinet and reached for it, but felt nothing but wood. Even getting on the tips of your toes did nothing to help. You were on the verge of jumping on the counter to get it when something hot and firm made itself known against your back. 

You bit your lip hard, trying your damnedest to not tense up. You knew that Zayne knew exactly what he was doing. But you knew him, and he’d rather watch you squirm and beg, or wait patiently for him to finish his work to finally work on you. 

But god, it was so hard, especially when his dick was pressing so hard against your—

Wait. 

His wait was wait now? There was no way. Zayne had incredible self-control. In the few times that you’d stolen a peek, you’d seen nothing to give away his desire, unlike your squirming self.

Which, speaking of squirming, you were really losing yourself by this point. If Zayne didn’t move in the next second, you were gonna show him a real kitchen nightmare. 

“Fuck.”

Your eyes widened as Zayne’s hot breath fanned against your neck. He had closed the cabinet, letting slam as his body moved in closer, trapping you between him and the counter. You froze, unsure of what to do next. To be or not to be greedy, that was the question.

Thankfully, Zayne took answered it for you. 

His hands made their way to your waist, while his mouth began moving against your neck. 

“Z-Zayne..!” But he didn’t give you any time to react because he was already pulling your pants off, one hand cupping your sex while the other worked your breast. 

In just a few moves, he had panting out for breathing, unable to beg him for more. Suddenly, he moved away, leaving you cold and wanting. Though, it wasn’t for long because the hard counter replaced his hand on your breasts and his mouth replaced the one that was working your pussy. 

It didn’t take long for you to come undone. Everything was just too hot. You could barely hold on to coherent thoughts at this point, the only thing you could focus on was getting full and reaching your release.

In your daze, you could hear him fumbling with his belt. You could understand why he was eager, but you were tired—actually, you weren’t tired at all (if your throbbing pussy was anything to go by). 

“Fuck—!” You must have been wetter than you thought, since he was able to slide in so easily. He pressed up against you again, enveloping you in himself and what he was doing to you. 

You turned your head, wanting to get a glimpse of him, even if just for a moment, but he was faster, and captured your lips. It was wet, sloppy and fucking amazing. 

Again, it didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, but you weren’t expecting Zayne to follow suit. You loved it, the feeling of being so full and ravaged.

And yet, you wanted more. 

You needed more.

“More…I need more, Zayne.” You began babbling, hips moving, against him. “I need more of your fat cock.” You needed him to fill you to the brim till you couldn’t hold anymore.

And then fill you fuller than that. 

“Please, please please, I need you, Zayne. I know you want to, so—fuck—just do it.” The girl he had on your hips tightened, and you clenched around his cock in anticipation, but all he did was sharply exhale through his nose.

“I’ve just barely just grabbed a hold of myself, and this is what you do.” That may have been what he said, but his hips joined yours in a steady beat. “What ever will I do with you?”

“Fuck me.” You were done, time to give into your greed. You were gonna milk the fuck out of this man. 

“Wait, wait.” He stopped the both of your movements. “Do you realize that you’re using your Evol right now?”

You squirmed in his grip. What was he talking about? Why wasn’t he fucking you? He should be fucking you, not running his fucking mouth.

“Fu—ha…” He started moving again, good. “You are…fine.” He pressed down on you again, “This is the last time—I’ll fuck you just how you want me to.”

He pulled out, and you were quick to whip around, ready to snap at him, but he picked you up instead. Returned to the living room, he dropped you on the couch before making quick of his clothing. 

As he moved closer, you lifted your arms, wanting to bring him as close to you as possible. You wanted to feel everything, you needed every inch of him. However, he pushed them aside.

Why was he pushing you away? Did he not feel what you felt? No, that can’t be true. He was just being mean for no reason, obviously.  

“What are you—ah!” You were caught off as your breath was stolen by him suddenly shoving your legs toward you and damn neat folding you in half. 

Wasting no time, sliding back into your warm cunt, setting a brutal pace. He made sure each slam led the tip of his dick to kissing your cervix. 

“Yes, yes—mmmm fuck, yes, Zayne, right there, fuck ha—mm” You honestly didn’t know you were saying at this point, not like it mattered. Above you was the man who had turned you into this bumbling mess, saying your name like a prayer. Not only did he sound divine, but it was you who did this to him. 

You loved it, you loved him.

At your final climax, you clenched down on him—keeping him firmly in place despite the slick that coated his dick. Suddenly, there was a blinding light that caused you to screw your eyes shut as a wave of freezing air passed over you. 

When you opened your eyes, you found the surrounding space covered in a layer of ice.

“Oh.” Zayne breathed, “You really did take all of me.”

“So you’re telling me that because I was so horny, I accidentally activated my Evol and had you resonate with my horniness, leading us to fuck in the kitchen like animals to the point that you used your Evol?

Zayne nodded. “There’s also the fact that we left quite the mess in the kitchen and on the couch, especially you, but yes, that’s the gist of it.”

You slapped your hands over your face. “Oh my god—I am so sorry!” That’s it! You were done with the sin of greed and would now heed the word virtuous word of charity.

“You’re fine.” He assured you. “I was going to do all of that after I finished my report anyway.”

Knowing that Zayne knew you were horny the entire time did not make you feel any better.

“However, you’ll have to repay me for your impatience.” He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Maybe then we can really experiment with your Evol.” 

You shivered, in fear or anticipation, you didn’t know (see: eagerness and anticipation). “Maybe, but you’re gonna have to wait a while. You very much fucked me into oblivion.” 

“And I’ll gladly do it again. All you have to do is ask.”

As per usual, this took a turn, lol. It was supposed to be more of a rewrite/rework of Amplification, but honestly this turned into its own thing...as per usual.

Oh! So, Mildly Dubcon, yeah cuz like, y'all both very much wanted to fuck, but the circumstances in which it happened makes it a bit dubious.

ANYWAY, um! The horny demons possessed me yet again, and there's a very funny joke in here, please laugh loudly.

10/23/24 Update: I somehow added like 300 words to this, and added 2 more tags (tbh Kitchen Sex, Creampie and Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation were supposed to be on there from the jump lol). Anyway! This got a lot more filthy and those few hundered words, so I hope y'all enjoy this mean update/edit.

Add on: What If Scenario

Masterlist

[pastafossa]

Pasta I have to know how getting your dragon back went down…

Did you steal it back? Did you knock on their door? What was the conversation like? Did they say why they felt the need to steal it from you??

I did steal it back! 😅 I wanted to make absolutely sure it was my Blue Boy, so I texted sis for a pic she took of him when we first put him up a few weeks ago because he had very specific mud stain I hadn't been able to get off his wings that I could use as further identification in addition to the leaf stuck to his butt by a bit of ice (hadn't been warm enough to melt yet), and my shitty overwrapped knots connecting him to his ground stakes! I FORENSICED THIS SHIT. I WAS READY TO IDENTIFY MY BOY.

Pic of stain:

Now armed with a Most Wanted pic, I loaded Pippin up in the car cause he needs to be socialized with my particular type of shenanigans, and drove down the street to where my dad said he'd spotted what might be Blue Boy. Then I did a few slow drivebys all stealthy like past the yard of the suspected thief.

Yup, big ol deflated pile of blue and pink with a christmas package, boldly positioned in amongst their own deflated inflatables, a mere 11 houses down from mine. It sure looked like him, but I needed to be sure. And fortunately, they had no cars in their driveway.

I parked about four or five houses down the street, leaving Pip inside to man the getaway vehicle (I wasn't going to be long, I've done enough fanfic research to know better), and sauntered innocently up into their yard, going for the Potential Blue Boy lying in the snow amongst their other inflatables.

Is there a unique leaf?

Fuck YES.

Wing stain?

GODDAMN CHECK.

I glanced around. No one, fortunately (probably because it was 5 fucking degrees out). So I leaned down to where he was staked into the ground. Were those my knots?

YES THEY WERE, I FUCKING TIE LIKE A RACOON ON COCAINE, I KNOW THOSE BATSHIT ROPE KNOTS.

Hello Blue Boy.

I thought briefly about going up to their door. But no. No. Anyone who'd steal my goddamn inflatable dragon and then put it up in their yard the next day, only eleven houses down, wasn't going to be cowed by me accusing them of dragon theft. So I decided to do what they did to me.

I yanked my Blue Boy up by the stakes as fast as I could. They hadn't plugged him in yet fortunately (it looks like they tried, but their power cord was full from their other inflatables) so I was able to just untangle his cord from all the other inflatable cords. And as I hauled him up, I was just in time to see one of the neighbors of the thief pop out his own front door.

Eye contact.

A pause.

Me, wild-eyed: "...This is MY dragon." Man, entirely unruffled by the insanity of blatant dragon thievery followed by blatant dragon reclaiming: "Thought it might be. My kids loving seeing him at Christmas when we go by your house." Me: "Well I'm taking him BACK, they'll be able to see him again in a few days." Him, cheerfully: "Looking forward to it. Merry Christmas!"

And with that I scuttled off back down the street, frantically carting along six feet of deflated Blue Boy, because this boy was MINE, and no fucking THIEF was going to steal my blue dragon son that spreads holiday cheer and whimsy every GODDAMN YEAR. Chucked him into the passenger seat and leapt in, and made my escape.

Which leaves me here, with a now marked Blue Boy who will be returned to his rightful place tomorrow since it'll be warmer. At this point I honestly have no idea what the thief will do. I'm hoping the fact that I was like fuck NO and just took blue boy back and out of their yard will make it clear you do not get to take my fucking inflatables, I will take them back, but I have no idea, in part because I couldn't have predicted that someone would STEAL MY INFLATABLE AND PUT IT UP IN FRONT OF THEIR HOUSE 11 HOUSES DOWN WHEN I'M THE ONLY ONE ON THE STREET WITH DRAGON DECOR? Like jeSUS, at least wait until next year so it looks like you were just inspired.

[sassenach77yle]

7x10 “Brotherly Love”

WHEN IAN FELT WELL enough, he came out walking with Jamie. Sometimes only as far as the yard or the barn, to lean on the fence and make remarks to Jenny’s sheep. Sometimes he felt well enough to walk miles, which amazed—and alarmed—Jamie. Still, he thought, it was good to walk side by side through the moors and the forest and down beside the loch, not talking much but side by side. It didn’t matter that they walked slowly; they always had, since Ian had come back from France with a wooden leg.“I’m lookin’ forward to having back my leg,” Ian had remarked casually once, when they sat in the shelter of the big rock where Fergus had lost his hand, looking out over the small burn that ran down at the foot of the hill, watching for the stray flash of a leaping trout.“Aye, that’ll be good,” Jamie had said, smiling a little—and a little wry about it, too, recalling when he’d waked after Culloden and thought his own leg missing. He’d been upset and tried to comfort himself with the thought that he’d get it back eventually, if he made it out of purgatory and into heaven. Of course, he’d thought he was dead, too, but that hadn’t seemed nearly as bad as the imagined loss of his leg.“I dinna suppose ye’ll have to wait,” he said idly, and Ian blinked at him.“Wait for what?”“Your leg.” He realized suddenly that Ian had no notion what he’d been thinking, and hastened to explain.“So I was only thinking, ye wouldna spend much time in purgatory—if at all—so ye’ll have it back soon.”Ian grinned at him. “What makes ye sae sure I willna spend a thousand years in purgatory? I might be a terrible sinner, aye?”“Well, aye, ye might be,” Jamie admitted. “Though if so, ye must think the devil of a lot of wicked thoughts, because if ye’d been doing anything, I’d know about it.”“Oh, ye think so?” Ian seemed to find this funny. “Ye havena seen me in years. I might ha’ been doing anything, and ye’d never ken a thing about it!”“Of course I would,” Jamie said logically. “Jenny would tell me. And ye dinna mean to suggest she wouldna ken if ye had a mistress and six bastard bairns, or ye’d taken to the highways and been robbing folk in a black silk mask?”“Well, possibly she would,” Ian admitted. “Though come on, man, there’s nothing ye could call a highway within a hundred miles. And I’d freeze to death long before I came across anyone worth robbin’ in one o’ the passes.” He paused, eyes narrowed against the wind, contemplating the criminal possibilities open to him.

“I could ha’ been stealing cattle,” he offered. “Though there’re sae few beasts these days, the whole parish would ken it at once should one go missing. And I doubt I could hide it amongst Jenny’s sheep wi’ any hope of its not bein’ noticed.”He thought further, chin in hand, then reluctantly shook his head.“The sad truth is, Jamie, no one’s had a thing worth stealin’ in the Highlands these twenty years past. Nay, theft’s right out, I’m afraid. So is fornication, because Jenny would ha’ killed me already. What does that leave? There’s no really anything to covet…. I suppose lying and murder is all that’s left, and while I’ve met the odd man I would ha’ liked to kill, I never did.” He shook his head regretfully, and Jamie laughed.“Oh, aye? Ye told me ye killed men in France.”“Well, aye, I did, but that was a matter of war—or business,” he added fairly. “I was bein’ paid to kill them; I didna do it out o’ spite.”“Well, then, I’m right,” Jamie pointed out. “Ye’ll sail straight through purgatory like a rising cloud, for I canna think of a single lie ye’ve ever told me.”Ian smiled with great affection.“Aye, well, I may ha’ told lies now and then, Jamie—but no, not to you.”He looked down at the worn wooden peg stretched before him and scratched at the knee on that side.“I wonder, will it feel different?”“How could it not?”“Well, the thing is,” Ian said, wiggling his sound foot to and fro, “I can still feel my missing foot. Always have been able to, ever since it went. Not all the time, mind,” he added, looking up. “But I do feel it. A verra strange thing. Do ye feel your finger?” he asked curiously, raising his chin at Jamie’s right hand.“Well… aye, I do. Not all the time, but now and then—and the nasty thing is that even though it’s gone, it still hurts like damnation, which doesna seem really fair.”He could have bitten his tongue at that, for here Ian was dying, and him complaining that the loss of his finger wasn’t fair. Ian wheezed with amusement, though, and leaned back, shaking his head.“If life was fair, then what?”They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the wind move through the pines on the hillside opposite. Then Jamie reached into his sporran and brought out the tiny white-wrapped package. It was a bit grubby from being in his sporran but had been tidily preserved and tightly wrapped.Ian eyed the little bundle in his palm.“What’s this?”My finger,” Jamie said. “I—well… I wondered whether ye’d maybe not mind to have it buried with ye.”Ian looked at him for a moment. Then his shoulders started to shake.“God, don’t laugh!” Jamie said, alarmed. “I didna mean to make ye laugh! Christ, Jenny will kill me if ye cough up a lung and die out here!”Ian was coughing, fits of it interspersed with long-drawn-out wheezes of laughter. Tears of mirth stood in his eyes, and he pressed both fists into his chest, struggling to breathe. At last, though, he left off and straightened slowly up, making a sound like a bellows. He sniffed deep and casually spat a glob of horrifying scarlet into the rocks.“I’d rather die out here laughin’ at you than in my bed wi’ six priests say-in’ prayers,” he said. “Doubt I’ll get the chance, though.” He put out a hand, palm up. “Aye, give it here.”Jamie laid the little white-wrapped cylinder in his hand, and Ian tucked the finger casually into his own sporran.“I’ll keep it safe ’til ye catch me up.”

81 PURGATORY II ~ An echo in the Bone

He had been holding Ian’s hand, clasping hard, trying to force some notion of well-being from his own calloused palm into Ian’s thin gray skin. His thumb slid upward now, pressing on the wrist where he had seen Claire grip, searching out the truth of a patient’s health.He felt the skin give, sliding across the bones of Ian’s wrist. He thought suddenly of the blood vow given at his marriage, the sting of the blade and Claire’s cold wrist pressed to his and the blood slick between them. Ian’s wrist was cold, too, but not from fear.He glanced at his own wrist, but there was no trace of a scar, either from vows or fetters; those wounds were fleeting, long-healed.

“D’ye remember when we gave each other blood for blood?”

Ian’s eyes were closed, but he smiled. Jamie’s hand tightened on the bony wrist, a little startled but not truly surprised that Ian had reached into his mind and caught the echo of his thoughts.

“Aye, of course.”

He couldn’t help a small smile of his own, a painful one.They’d been eight years old, the two of them. Jamie’s mother and her bairn had died the day before. The house had been full of mourners, his father dazed with shock. They had slipped out, he and Ian, scrambling up the hill behind the house, trying not to look at the fresh-dug grave by the broch. Into the wood, safe under the trees.Had slowed then, wandering, come to a stop at last at the top of the high hill, where some old stone building that they called the fort had fallen down long ago. They’d sat on the rubble, wrapped in their plaids against the wind, not talking much.“I thought I’d have a new brother,” he’d said suddenly. “But I don’t. It’s just Jenny and me, still.” In the years since, he’d succeeded in forgetting that small pain, the loss of his hoped-for brother, the boy who might have given him back a little of his love for his older brother, Willie, dead of the smallpox. He’d cherished that pain for a little, a flimsy shield against the enormity of knowing his mother gone forever.Ian had sat thinking for a bit, then reached into his sporran and got out the wee knife his father had given him on his last birthday.

“I’ll be your brother,” he’d said, matter-of-fact, and cut across his thumb, hissing a little through his teeth.He’d handed the knife to Jamie, who’d cut himself, surprised that it hurt so much, and then they’d pressed their thumbs together and sworn to be brothers always. And had been.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself against the nearness of death, the black finality.“Ian. Shall I…” Ian’s eyelids lifted, the soft brown of his gaze sharpening into clarity at what he heard in the thickness of Jamie’s voice. Jamie cleared his throat hard and looked away, then looked back, feeling obscurely that to look away was cowardly.“Will ye have me hasten ye?” he asked, very softly. Even as he spoke, the cold part of his mind sought the way. Not by the blade, no; it was quick and clean, a proper man’s departure, but it would cause his sister and the weans grief; neither he nor Ian had the right to leave a final memory stained with blood.Ian’s grip neither slackened nor clung, but of a sudden Jamie felt the pulse he had looked for in vain, a small, steady throb against his own palm.He hadn’t looked away, but his eyes blurred, and he bent his head to hide the tears.Claire… She would know how, but he couldn’t ask her to do it. Her own vow kept her from it.“No,” Ian said. “Not yet, anyway.” He’d smiled, eyes soft. “But I’m glad to ken ye’ll do it if I need ye to, mo brathair.”

[t-lostinworlds]

A Strange(r’s) Comfort | Peter Parker

A/N: had this idea right after i saw nwh which was...years ago now lol. rewatched it again recently so here’s me dusting off a wip that’s been sitting in my drafts. basically, this is just me giving peter some comfort in a way, bc that boy really needs one :((

》 PAIRING: peter parker x female!reader 》 TROPE/GENRE: strangers to lovers (mostly implied); soft angst; hurt/comfort 》 SUMMARY: Peter found a strange comfort in the graveyard, no less. But hearing about your day-to-day had been the highlight of his. And when one night led to the both you showing vulnerability, suddenly, Peter didn't feel so alone anymore. Maybe a stranger's comfort wasn't so bad. 》 WARNINGS: Spoilers? (i mean it’s been a while); bad jokes/puns (one about chicken & one about sex lmao); peter eavesdropping (sorta...ya know, enhanced hearing); it’s mostly set in the graveyard so...; mentions of: death, car accident, drunk drivers, being in jail for a moment, petty theft, peer pressure; and overall just dealing with grief and peter & reader bonding over their experience with grief. 》 WORD COUNT: 5.2k+ (issa baby fic)

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ P. PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Some might consider it unhealthy, but was there really a 'right' way to deal with the loss of someone you hold near and dear to your heart? They might even say it was excessive, but who were they to police him? They didn't know what he was going through. They could never understand what he was going through.

A part of him had excused it with his wounds being fresh, that with time, he'd be able to learn not to dwell too long on the remnants of the people he loves. Maybe with time, he'd be able to move on, something that seemed so impossible at the moment. But he'll get there—well, he hoped so, at least.

Either way, there was no doubt that everyone handled grief differently.

For Peter Parker, that was visiting May's grave every day.

Once was enough.

That was what he limited himself to, at least.

But still, it was barely enough to settle the demons in his head. Barely enough to stop him from replaying the scene over and over.

Peter had been recalculating in utter desperation as to what else he could've done better, what else he could've done more to save her.

That was what it was like most nights.

Some nights, though, his mind would switch things up a bit, thinking that maybe he was going about it wrong. Maybe it was a case of what he shouldn't have done.

Those nights Peter sometimes found himself picking apart every choice he'd ever made before it led to that point.

Maybe if he hadn't chosen to go on that stupid school trip to Europe then this wouldn't have happened. Maybe his identity wouldn't have been revealed and it wouldn't have led for that first domino to tumble, knocking over the rest that made his life turn for the absolute worse.

Or maybe, he didn't need to go that far back in the past. Maybe he simply shouldn't have chosen to question Dr. Strange's decision to send those villains back to where they came from immediately.

But sadly, that was all there was to it.

Peter's thoughts were simply and only just a whole bunch of unanswerable maybes.

Maybe this, maybe that. Maybe he owed it to them to try his best and fix things, maybe he didn't owe them anything at all. Maybe it was the wrong choice to try and save everyone, maybe it was right.

Aunt May said he did the right thing.

But it didn't feel like it sometimes.

Hell, it didn't even feel like it was even worth it. And no matter how much he tried to tell himself that it was right, his thoughts still managed to convince him that every. single. choice he made was simply wrong.

It wasn't even difficult to come to that conclusion anymore. Because ever since he got bitten by that spider, his loss considerably outweighed all his wins. And from then onwards, it just felt like he kept losing, and losing, and losing, and losing.

Right now, the most mundane thing he'd been losing lately was sleep, at the very least.

He'd gotten a job as a delivery guy at this small chicken joint a couple of streets down his apartment. Some might call it cheating—in his opinion, it was simply taking a shortcut—but he'd leave the bicycle they'd lend him in an alleyway and just swing the chickens to their destination. Sure, changing in and out of his suit was a bit tiring but it was definitely far better than dealing with New York traffic.

Apart from that, he'd also begun with some freelance photography work, dusting off the old DSLR camera Ben and May got him. He got decent at it a while back. But it got long forgotten the minute they bought him his first video game console, two years later.

He was starting off small, from random birthday parties to taking photos of restaurants or any establishment that was looking to use the pictures for ads or whatever. He was up for anything, anyone who didn't mind getting an okay photo at best.

There wasn't much to it, though, since nobody was really keen on hiring someone who didn't have experience. As a matter of fact, he didn't even have a high school diploma. Which had now led to him sacrificing countless hours of studying for his GED tests.

So, it was safe to say that he was handling a lot, especially juggling it with his still ongoing nighttime patrols.

Yet all of that seemed so much easier compared to what he had to deal with once he was lying in bed, wide awake even if it was past midnight. What went on in his day-to-day was only a fraction of the reason why he was losing sleep because his damning thoughts just had a habit of being so loud once everything else had quieted down.

It was hard as it was dealing with grief, even though he for sure had dealt with it more times than needed in such a short amount of time.

But what was more difficult about it this time around, was dealing with alone.

And Peter Parker was truly and utterly, alone.

No fellow Avenger to advise on ways to deal with this. After all, they were the only people who could understand even the slightest bit of what he was going through.

Saving the rest only to fail at saving one, losing someone in the midst of fighting for the rest of the world.

No Happy to offer some guidance on dealing with the loss of someone near and dear to you. Or for him to just be there as someone Peter could relate to, just like when Tony had died.

No Ned and MJ to give him company, offer their different ways of comfort as best as they could. They weren't there to simply make him laugh, offer that tiniest moment of reprieve, distract him with their theories and arguments about anything and everything to help him escape from, well, everything.

Right now, Peter had no one.

Going from having the people he truly cared about be only one call away, to suddenly being someone labeled as 'unknown number' in their contact lists, it was difficult.

But maybe he would just learn to live with it.

And maybe the first step to being able to live with his grief was to visit May frequently.

It didn't matter what time of the day it was. Whether it was early morning or just a few minutes after lunch, or when the sky started tinting orange as the sun slowly set. Midday or midnight, dusk or dawn, it didn't matter as long as he could visit her just once.

Maybe a part of him was hoping that by some miracle he'd hear her voice again, telling him, even if it was the last time, that you're going to be okay.

Peter needed it, so badly. He needed to be told that things would turn out alright because him being fine? It seemed like a far-off dream at this point.

He'd been to space, been to the mirror dimension, fought villains from other universes, been the center of a spell that erased people's memories and made them forget who he was.

Surely hearing the voice of a loved one that had passed wasn't too much to ask?

Yet every day, every moment he ventured into the graveyard, he was met by silence.

Well, aside from the distant hum of New York as life moved on. There was also the deep howl of the wind at night, a few cracking branches accompanied by the soft coo of crows.

Some would probably find peace from all the white noise, but Peter couldn't say he found any comfort in it. He'd only grown accustomed to it, used to tuning out the rest of the world to avoid being reminded of a life he once had.

Still, quietness had always been typical during his visits.

That, until one Saturday afternoon.

•••

Peter sensed another person approaching before he could even see them.

The soft crunch of fallen leaves was what he heard first, followed by a soft humming of some holiday song.

He looked up from the book he was reading, curious eyes landing on someone carrying flowers, a slight pep in her step which was unusual given the location.

Still, there was something about you that Peter couldn't help but be drawn to.

"There we go, all nice and clean," he heard you say, rustling of dried leaves and the soft brushing of clothes following suit. "And flowers well hydrated with bottled spring water."

You were talking to yourself.

It was a habit, he assumed. You just seemed comfortable doing it, as if you were having a mundane conversation with someone else.

Peter found it oddly endearing.

"I brought your favorite this time Dad because I am sure you're complaining to Mom why I always bring her favorite flowers," you explained with a soft laugh. "I sometimes forget you're a flowers type of guy, too."

No—you weren't talking to yourself.

You were talking to the gravestone.

His curiosity piqued even more.

It wasn't that you were being loud, either. Not at all. You were speaking softly as you typically would if you were by yourself in a graveyard, no less.

But because of his enhanced hearing, he simply couldn't help but listen.

"Sorry I haven't been here for a little while, just been busy with you know, moving, college, finding a job with a minimum wage that will not cover rent alone so what even is the point? We look for a job to survive but when we do find a job it doesn't even pay you enough to get by? Some people don't even hire you because 'not enough experience' and I'm like, duh? I'm trying to gain experience hence why I'm applying? Who even invented this shithole?"

Peter found himself nodding along, unable to argue with your claims when they were filled with nothing but the truth.

"Sorry, sorry, it just doesn't make a damn sense," you sighed. He could almost hear you rolling your eyes. "Anyway, I then have other adult things I really don't want to deal with like learning how to deal with taxes and stuff which is so dumb given I'm close to broke and—where does my tax go, anyway? Some politician's tenth vacation to the Bahamas, probably."

For the first time in a long while, Peter cracked a smile.

"Ugh, I am sorry, I promise I don't come here only to complain to you guys," you said, "But I am doing okay…"

He couldn't really explain the 'why,' but the soft tug in his heartstrings was definitely real when he heard the melancholia in your voice.

"The holidays are coming up," you said softly, the slight shake in your tone unmistakable. Yet as it rushed to the surface, it was just as quickly replaced with a chipper one.

"They always tell me how you both are watching over me now. But I don't know if I really want that," you sighed exaggeratedly. "Not because I hate you guys. But imagine if I was having sex? I really don't want to think about you 'watching over me' because it's really uncomfortable."

Peter couldn't stop his snort, his eyes widening as he spared you a glance. He was as grateful that you didn't seem to hear him.

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was eavesdropping—well, maliciously, at least.

"It's a joke, Mom. See, Dad gets it."

Silence hung in the air after that, a sudden gust of wind blowing away the leaves that littered the snow-covered grass.

But he had a feeling the shake in your voice wasn't because of the cold.

"I really miss you guys…"

Peter left at that.

He didn't see you again for the next few days, probably because he never did visit at the same hour of the day. He never actively tried to see what time you were there, either—if you went every day at all. He'd just become a stalker at that point.

So, every time you did cross paths, it was entirely by chance.

The next encounter was when he brought his lunch with him to the graveyard. He'd caught sight of you sitting on a pink blanket that was laid out on the grass, legs crossed with a box of pizza to your right.

Instinctively, you looked up and over your shoulder when you heard his footsteps.

Your eyes immediately locked with his.

Pretty was the first word that came to his mind.

Beautiful, when you offered him a sweet and warm smile.

"Hello," you greeted.

Peter couldn't help but smile in return.

"Hi."

Nothing else was said after that.

You both respectively ate your lunches in your little corners, your soft humming bringing a comforting peace, one he still couldn't quite explain.

And from there on out, Peter learned that you did go there every day, but it was only either at lunchtime or late in the afternoon.

Because whenever Peter went during those times, you were always there.

As he said, he never actively tried to be there whenever you were. He didn't change anything with his routine. He still went there at random times of the day.

You and him crossing paths simply happened.

And most of those moments, Peter couldn't help but listen in on your rambles.

It might have been wrong, otherwise, creepy, but it wasn't like you were unaware of his presence. You weren't being loud, but you weren't exactly whispering into nothing either. If it were an unenhanced being, they would still hear you, but maybe only slightly inaudible. Peter just had the ability to make out your words a little clearer than the average person.

Besides, all your stories had been mundane at most, quite adorable at best.

Like that one time you ran into a post because you saw a cat wearing some boots and a clear raincoat across the road. Or that time you missed your stop in the subway because you kept talking to a Corgi who was lounging comfortably in their owner's backpack.

"His little legs were so cute!"

Like he said, adorable.

But if it was something personal, though, he'd learned to tune it out. He made sure to keep those matters out of his ear, leaving your private conversations, well, private.

Yet your silly and terrible jokes, your gripes about society and the unfairness of the world, to your little story times and mundane gossip of what you'd heard on the street, Peter couldn't help but tune in as if he was listening to the morning radio.

It made Peter feel lighter somewhat, a feeling he never once associated when being in a graveyard.

He didn't know if it was your stories, or if it was simply hearing that soft tone of your voice. Either way, he found it comforting, which was so strange.

Never had he ever thought he would find comfort from a stranger, no less.

A strange comfort.

•••

"People always ask why did the chicken cross the road. They never ask why the chicken didn't cross the road."

Peter perked up in curiosity, ready to hear another of the many jokes you'd completely ruined.

He found it absolutely hilarious how you were churning typical and old punchlines into horrible ones.

The funniest part was, it seemed like you were doing it on purpose.

"Why, you ask? Because they physically can't anymore," you said, pausing for added effect. "People enjoy eating chicken legs way too much."

Peter's eyes grew wide, gaze landing on the chicken leg he just finished. He couldn't stop the sound that escaped his lips.

It was a mix between a wheeze, a laugh, and a cough.

Loud enough to get your attention.

"Hey," you called, voice sounding closer. "Are you okay?"

"Oh—uhm, hi," he stammered, caught off guard when you were now suddenly in front of him. Clearing his throat, he nodded. "And yeah, I'm good,"

"Do you need some water?" You offered him a bottle.

"No, no, I've got my own," he declined, lifting his bottle. "But thank you."

"Oh okay," you said, smiling sweetly. "It just sounded like you were choking or something so I wanted to make sure if you were alright."

Peter blushed.

"No, I was…uhm—" He scratched the back of his neck. "I was holding back my laugh."

You tilted your head, bottom lip jutted out and Peter found himself thinking of ways to smooth out the little crinkled on your forehead, maybe kiss—wait what?

"Why would you do that?" you asked.

Shit.

Did I say that out loud?

"Sorry?" He blinked at you.

"Why would you hold back your laugh?"

"Oh," he sighed, mostly in relief. "Just didn't want to seem creepy and I wasn't…eavesdropping or anything but I uhm—heard your joke." Chuckling shyly, he smiled. "It was pretty funny."

"Funny because it was bad?" You raised a knowing brow. "If you say it was good then I'm really going to question your sense of humor."

"It was really bad," he admitted, breathing out a laugh.

The way your smile brightened made Peter's heart do a funny thing.

"Thanks," you giggled. "I pride myself in my bad jokes."

"Yeah," he breathed out, willing his heart to stop being so goddamn weird, what is going on with you? "And sorry for not helping the chickens cross the road."

You stared at him confused.

That was until he pointed towards the bag on the ground that had the logo of a chicken on it.

Your hearty laugh rang in the air.

Peter found himself growing warmer at the sound, the burn starting right in his chest and spreading to the whole expanse of his body.

"I—whew, sorry, wow," you heaved after a moment. "Haven't laughed like that in a while."

Both of you fell silent after that—not an awkward one. If anything, it was pleasant, like there was an unspoken understanding being exchanged with a simple look.

"This may seem like weird advice but try and talk to them," you softly said.

Peter looked at you, confused.

You gestured toward the tombstone with a sympathetic smile.

"They might hear it, they might not, there's really no way of knowing," you explained. "But what more could you lose if you try? Plus, you'll get it off your chest and that's always progress."

"I—" Peter nodded, the corner of his lips curling up. "Thank you. I'll keep it in mind."

You smiled at that. "I'll see you around."

"See you around," he hummed, gaze never leaving your figure even as you left, his eyes steady on the path you walked on as he mulled over your words.

It was kind of weird advice, but at the same time, it made perfect sense.

Peter didn't question it nor did he judge—who was he to judge? After all, everyone handled grief differently.

But as he sat down on the ground, eyes steady on the lettering of May's name, he found the words flowing out so easily.

"Hi, May I—" Peter took a sharp breath, blinking away the sting that started to settle in his eyes. "Wow. It's been a while since I've talked to you, huh?"

It started out simple, filling her up with what was new with his life recently—the job, his education, all those mundane stuff.

But then as he shifted from one topic to another, he inevitably started talking about all the things that felt so wrong. And once that train left the station, it was so difficult to stop.

It wasn't a complaint. It was an unloading of the baggage he'd been carrying around alone for quite some time now.

All the loneliness and grief, the boiling anger and consuming regret, the love and the love lost, to the bleak look of what his future held.

Peter didn't realize he was crying until a soft gush of wind brushed his cheeks, the coldness making him catch his breath with a shiver.

And then, a small white butterfly flew right in front of him, stopping momentarily before disappearing into the now setting sky.

Peter let out a breath.

Lighter and relieved.

It could've been a coincidence, or maybe it wasn't at all.

But what more could he lose if he took that as a sign that she heard him?

So with a small, tearful smile, he sighed,

"Thanks for always hearing me out, May."

Since then, he'd grown to tell May about his day. Some were tougher than others, while some were snippets of his new life—mundane and simple but starting to become fulfilling the more he looked at it from different perspectives.

As the weeks passed by, Peter's everyday visits became every other day. At first, the guilt of missing a day was heavily consuming. But it didn't take long for it slowly turn into a soft lull—still there, but not as bad as it used to be.

There was one other thing he hoped for whenever he wandered into the graveyard, though.

To see you again.

If it was one last time just so he could say thank you, then he'd take it.

That didn't mean he wasn't wishing for it to be more.

•••

The hair on every inch of Peter's body stood up when he heard it.

It was definitely not his spider sense going awry. This was very much a human reaction.

Well, he could imagine that when the first thing a person would hear as they venture into a graveyard in the dead of the night was crying, even the toughest men would get spooked.

But as soon as Peter located the source of the sound, his heart broke.

He wasn't expecting to find you, sat on the cold ground alone, hugging your knees to your chest, body shaking with sobs.

His first instinct was to fight whoever it was that made you cry because how fucking dare they?

But with a controlled breath, Peter walked over to you, making sure to step on dried leaves so you'd be aware of his presence.

Your head snapped up at the sound, puffy red eyes landing on him.

His frown could only deepen as he slowly sat beside you, offering you a tender smile with his arms wide open.

You stared at him with furrowed brows, eyes switching between his face and his open arms, downright confused.

Peter couldn't blame you. After all, you didn't know him.

He was ready for you to yell at him for being a creep, to scream at him to get lost. He was prepared for you to push him away—hell, punch him in the face—and run as fast as you could.

But instead, your lips quivered, a broken sob following suit. With your head hung low, you fell into his embrace.

And Peter hugged you as tightly as he could.

He didn't say anything, didn't feel like it was needed. He simply held you close, rubbing circles over your back as he gently rocked you from side to side.

Crying it all out until you couldn't anymore was, most of the time, the best thing you could do at the moment.

So he let you.

Only when your sobs turned to sniffles to soft shaky breaths did you pull away. 

"Your shirt," you gasped shakily, bottom lip jutting out as your eyes began to water again. "Oh no, I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," he reassured, squeezing your shoulders before reluctantly letting you go. "I wouldn't have offered you a hug if I minded."

"Thank you," you whispered. "I really needed that."

"No worries." He nodded with a small smile. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's just—" you sighed, wiping your face with the sleeves of your coat. "It's my first holiday alone so it's been kinda tough."

"Me too," he hummed, smiling sadly when you looked at him, a mixture of surprise and understanding crossing your face. "My parents have been gone since I was a kid, and I was left with my uncle and aunt. My uncle died a few years ago so all I had left was her but now she's…"

"I'm sorry," you softly said, your hand finding his.

You gave it a squeeze.

Peter squeezed back.

"I only had my parents growing up," you started, gesturing at the tombstone. "Didn't get to meet my grandparents, never really met many of my relatives because they're all halfway across the world, so now it's just me."

Peter didn't know what it was, exactly. Maybe it was the warmth of your hand still holding his and your kind eyes bearing no judgment or pity. Maybe it was the sheer comfort you provided, one that he still couldn't quite explain.

Either way, he found himself sharing what it had been like for him. Sure, he left out details to keep his deepest secret uncovered, and to come and think about it, it was mostly things connected to Aunt May. But Peter definitely spilled way too much to someone he barely even knew.

He did not regret it one bit.

"I promised to protect her and I—"

"I'm sure you gave it your all," you assured.

"Not enough to keep her alive," he scoffed, tone far more bitter than he intended to. He caught himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, sorry—"

"Never apologize for how you feel," you said firmly.

Peter nodded, his attention caught by your thumb that was absentmindedly running circles over the back of his hand. You'd been holding onto it as you listened to his story, and he found himself not minding it at all.

If anything, a part of him wanted you to never let go.

"But I get it," you breathed out. "The whole 'this is my fault' thing."

"Was it an accident?" he asked softly.

You nodded. "Car crash. Some drunk frat boys thought it was a good idea to test out how fast they could go in their new truck into an open road."

He frowned. "That's not your fault."

"It is," you insisted. "They wouldn't have been out on the road in the first place if they weren't coming to pick me up in the dead of the night." Shaking your head, you scoffed, "I wish I could say I was at a friend's house but they were coming to bail me out of jail."

Attempting to lighten up the mood, Peter softly bumped his shoulder with yours. "Am I in the midst of a troublemaker?"

That earned him a teary chuckle.

He took it as a win.

"Not quite," you sighed, your smile fading. "Got hung up with the wrong crowd. They kept teasing me that I was too much of a miss goody two shoes and that I should live a little."

"Peer pressure is one nasty thing."

"Yeah well, I still did it." You shrugged, anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip. "A group of us were walking home from a party and we passed by this random minimart on the way. My so-called friends thought it was a good idea to dare me to steal one thing from the store, to break my 'good girl' streak as they put it.

"They all gave me ultimatums, one of them was either I steal something or they'll tell the whole school that I was the real definition of 'The freaks in bed are always the quiet ones' so my loser reputation is no more. They said they can't hang around me anymore if I kept being the loser of the group. It was tough because they were all the friends I had."

Peter couldn't stop the surge of pure anger that ran through him. "They sound fucking horrible."

"Yeah, and I was stupid enough to go along with it." Shaking your head, you chuckled, tone void of humor. "It wasn't even the owner who saw me, it was some random white woman yelling bloody murder as if I was burning the goddamn place down. And the second my friends saw the security guards? Oh, they ran, left me there to fend for myself."

Peter unclenched his fist, settling to rub circles on your back instead.

"It was one candy," you choked back a sob, gesturing towards the tombstone. "But the punishment feels—"

Peter wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a side hug when you started crying again.

"And you know what hurts most?" you whimpered, fisting his jacket as you laid your head on his shoulder. "Knowing that the last memory they had of me was just filled with disappointment."

"I'm sure that's not true," he said softly, squeezing you close. "They loved you."

"I know they did I just—"

"Wish you could go back and change every decision you made?"

You lifted your head off his shoulder and looked at him, eyes glossy yet he saw the flicker of gratefulness in them.

Peter felt it in himself too, an appreciation to finding someone who could understand even the littlest bit of what he was going through.

"Yeah," you shakily breathed out, letting out a soft laugh as you wiped your nose. "God, what a way to celebrate the holidays, huh?"

He chuckled at that, nodding.

It was definitely something, crying your heart out, spilling all your trauma to a stranger in the dead of night at a graveyard.

But there was only one thought that stayed at the forefront of his mind.

Peter didn't feel so alone anymore.

"Yeah," he hummed, a shy smile playing on his lips. "But I'm glad I'm not alone."

Your whole face brightened, your fingers interlacing with his.

"Me too," you said, smiling. "We're going to be okay."

Peter felt some weight lift off his entire back at those simple words of reassurance.

"We're going to be okay."

Teasingly bumping his shoulder with yours, you hummed, "I'm Y/N, by the way."

You both laughed at the absurdity of it, getting to know each other's pain, regret, hurt and grief before even getting the chance to know a name.

"Peter," he sighed, squeezing your hand. "Peter Parker."

Later that night, he somehow gathered up the courage to ask if you wanted to get some hot cocoa with him. And when you said yes with that smile he'd grown to adore so much, Peter had an inkling that you wouldn't stay a stranger to him in the long run.

But for now, as you laid your head on his shoulder, your soft breaths visible in the cold air, tiny snowflakes on your lashes, face glowing underneath the moonlight, warmth and contentment bloomed in his chest.

Peter was smiling.

Genuine and pure, and perhaps a sign of a new beginning.

A stranger's comfort wasn't so bad, after all.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[dreamsofbroflovski]

Gunslinger!Kyle Broflovski x Reader - lovin' what your lovin' does to me

Also available on ao3!

Summary: You and your partner, Kyle Broflovski, are both gunslingers, roaming the United States on horseback looking for fights to pick and bounties to collect. But when the promise of a better life becomes clearer on your horizon, can you really go for it, change everything you know and take roots for the first time in your life? You find out in the best way possible.

Warnings: Wild West AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Mating Press, Breeding, Impregnation, Mentions of Pregnancy, Period-Typical Sexism

A/N: There it is. My however-many-thousand-words-long tribute to one of my favourite gingers.

Fun fact, I'm actually as childfree as they go. Got a whole list in my brain of reasons why I really shouldn't have kids. However, if a certain ginger jew from Jersey knocked at my door asking me to be the mother of his babies, I'd just ask "how many?" and get right to fucking work on that.

If some parts of it sound weird, I really did write this instead of sleeping because I wanted it up ASAP and it's crazy.

“Look alive, my dear. We’ve arrived.”

I was jolted out of my thoughts by the gentle voice of my partner.

It was nearing the middle of summer and I was really feeling the dog days. The sun showed me no mercy as it tried to set ablaze what little skin I had showing to the world, which was basically just my unprotected arms. I had been on horseback since dawn without even mentioning a break, and hadn’t exactly considered that the weather at 4am, before sunrise, might’ve been slightly different from what I was currently experiencing now that the sun was at its peak in the sky.

I guess the only salvation when it came to my foolishness was that I wasn’t alone in it. As I turned to the man at my side, matching my horse’s slow speed on his own mount, I saw him wipe some sweat off of his face with the green bandana he kept tied to his neck - being tortured by the heat even more than me, inside of his heavy leather coat.

My partner. My lover, Kyle Broflovski. Notorious gun-for-hire, same as I. We had met many years ago, when he and I were both just seventeen - but life had already taken its toll on the both of us, leaving nothing except two jaded young adults with very little to lose. By then we were already gunslingers, I was here and there committing petty thefts while he worked as a watchman for some merchant in the region. I took his side in a saloon fight that turned into a huge shootout - not proud to say a huge part of its escalation was his fault, but well, at least we won - and the thrill of going through a life-or-death situation together might’ve created a bond between us right at that moment, because from then on we rarely left each other’s side.

We started out merely as colleagues, but feelings quickly grew, and how wouldn’t they? He was handsome, intelligent, kind, honorable and great in bed. Everything a woman would want, if she ignored the ‘outlaw’ part, which I wouldn’t and didn’t even want to. Now, eight or nine years later, we still roamed this godforsaken country together - making money by offering protection services to basically anyone who needed bodyguards or an extra pair of shooters defending their property, and also by tracking wanted criminals and delivering their filthy bodies to the law enforcers looking for them; sometimes living, sometimes dead. Sometimes it felt like he kind of preferred it as the latter.

But as he looked back at me and I allowed myself to get lost in his shining eyes and jovial smile, it dawned on me that, at least for now, that was gone. We were on vacation, so to speak. For the last couple of weeks we had been on the road almost non-stop, all so that we could make it to our destination as quickly as possible. 

Today’s leg of the trip had been rather quiet, save for the occasional snorting of one of our horses, but I liked it that way. After so many years with Kyle, I had come to enjoy even those moments of silence: we talked so much every single day, but even when we didn’t say anything I still felt comfort in just being by his side.

Plus, it had been the first time in a while that we managed to just not have to say anything. For the last year or so, we hadn’t been running by ourselves, instead making use of the connection and safety of a small group with other outlaws. Life with them was decent - we didn’t exactly love each other or keep any type of code, but we’d help wherever we could to make sure everyone’s lives were running smoothly. But it was very clear that my true loyalty was only to Kyle, and his to me. 

So, when about nine months in he started to become visibly bothered and complain more, unhappy about having to set up shelter right next to people he didn’t exactly trust, we started planning our exit. We were used to it just being the two of us anyway, so there were no worries, we just had to plan the exit in a way that wouldn’t create a fuss. The opportunity came in the best way possible - a few weeks after our first talk of leaving, Kyle picked up at the post office a letter from his best friend, Stan Marsh, inviting us to go to his farm just one or two states away for a few days' stay. We left camp at night, after everyone was already asleep, and set out on this trip to meet up with the people we were most likely to actually consider family.

Kyle and Stan had known each other since before even being born, one could say. Randy Marsh and Gerald Broflovski were very close friends as children, though they followed very different paths in life: while my partner’s father took to the books and became a lawyer, the Marsh patriarch bought a plot of land not too far from the small mountain town where they lived and built a small but sturdy farm, which expanded over the years and made decent money. It was called Tegridy - apparently, it was supposed to be “Integrity”, a word Mr. Broflovski taught Mr. Marsh, but the latter didn’t really know how to write it; and, by the time he finally learned, it was already too late and the whole region already knew it by the wrong name, so it stuck.

And that’s how Kyle and Stan grew up: kept close as can be from the very start. Mr. Broflovski would take his family to the farmstead whenever he found a little free time and the boys spent their afternoons playing in the open fields, fishing in the stream nearby and helping Mr. Marsh with tasks around the farm once they became old enough. They saw each other turn from dim-witted boys to respectable young men, and the world seemed infinite for them, bright-eyed adolescents who could experience all the great things life had to offer without shouldering any of its burdens.

Unfortunately, just a few weeks before Kyle turned sixteen, his whole family was taken from him in a violent gang attack, caught in an ambush on the wagon they were riding while coming back from a trip, stripped of every valuable they had on hand and then shot dead. My partner wasn’t present at the time of the crime, so he was spared - something that he struggled with the guilt of for many years, and that was his primary motivation for becoming a vigilante: going after criminals just like those who wronged his family, to take them to justice and, more importantly, making sure their sentences were served. 

When Kyle showed up at Stan’s doorstep for what would be his last conversation as a man without blood in his hands, it took a lot of arguing and convincing from Kyle for his friend to not immediately pack his bags, saddle up and ride alongside him. Stan eventually relented, settled for receiving Kyle’s letters and some rare visits, took over the farm and married a lovely young woman named Wendy Testaburger.

A lovely young woman who, turns out, hated Kyle and I’s guts fiercely. She came from a well-off household and left a comfortable life to be with Stan, so I guess having a pair of shabby gunslingers as the closest friends of her new family didn’t sit right with how she was raised. It also didn’t help that, every time we were around, Stan would drop everything he was doing and stick to us like a tick to a dog’s fur, asking Kyle non-stop about everything we were up to and making us fill him in on every single chase and shootout and bounty delivered, without leaving any stone unturned. His interest in the life was very noticeable, even if he tried to deny it during the multiple arguments we heard him have with Wendy when they thought we were sleeping. The new Mrs. Marsh was absolutely terrified that our constant presence would have a bigger impact on him the longer we stayed, and that someday our wicked ways would win Stan over and he’d ride off into the sunset with us and make her a widow - or, worse in her mind, a divorcée.

Her worries only waned after a particularly long stretch of time we spent at their place. Kyle had gotten badly injured in a shootout against one of our bounties - and, although my quick thinking managed to stabilize the situation to where he was no longer in danger, we still needed to lay low for a while as he healed, and sleeping on the dirt in tents moving from place to place was not it. So I found ourselves a wagon and showed up unannounced to the Marsh residence with Kyle and all of our belongings loaded on it. 

My guess is seeing the dangers of the job in real time and how precarious our day-to-day life really was had been a wake-up call to Stan, since after that his begging for me and Kyle to retell our epic stories had diminished considerably. With this, Wendy was finally able to rest assured that she’d keep her husband, and she was willing to get to know us better and have actual positive interactions. At least something good came out of that whole mess - to this day, Kyle’s left shoulder didn’t work as good as it used to, and he still felt this overwhelming pain at random times.

That is all to say the four of us had a very strong bond forged through years of experiences together, delights and torments shared - a bond that would never waiver even when Kyle and I were on the other side of the country cleaning up the trash and delivering bounties around the most different jurisdictions. So, when we received that letter with Stan and Wendy scolding us because we hadn’t seen them since before the lady got pregnant with their fourth and urging us to come back to Colorado for she was now on the last leg of that pregnancy, we figured it was the least we could do to pack our stuff and ride to Tegridy Farm to spend a few weeks with the Marsh family, helping wherever they needed to make sure that these last couple of days, or the few right after childbirth, would go as smoothly as possible.

It had been about two or three weeks that we had been on the road now and we were finally at our destination. To my side, the very familiar farm spanned across the land, its decent area determined by some flimsy wooden fences in need of fixing. The structures and inside the boundaries of the fence for the most part didn’t match its state of neglect; the cultivation fields with the seasonal crops were well-kempt, the stables and barn had a regular repair schedule, and the main house - the crown jewel of the property - stood elegant in the middle of it all, always clean and pristine courtesy of Wendy’s presence. The only other thing that might’ve seemed neglected in the farm was but a shadow behind the main building - the old house where Stan had lived during his childhood, which hadn’t been inhabited since his mother died, but that he also didn’t seem to have the courage or time to take down completely. 

As we crossed the wooden gateways and made our way inside the farm, the first member of the Marsh family to notice our arrival was actually their elderly chubby dog, Sparky. Stan originally bought him as a puppy to train so he would protect the animals and the land from intruders, but he quickly realized that this dog was a huge wimp and just wanted to play all day, promptly fleeing whenever he sensed danger. However, everyone had already taken a liking to the tiny fellow by then, so he became Wendy and Stan’s personal companion, sleeping inside of the main house and growing up alongside the kids as their pet. When he saw the outlines of us on top of our mounts riding towards the building, he started barking happily and ran as fast as his legs could take him, making a turn when he got to our horses and matching their pace alongside Kyle’s.

His barking must’ve alerted the other members of the household, since not long after he started, we noticed Stan getting up off his chair on the porch. “And look who’s finally here!” He announced as he walked towards us with open arms and, not long after, we saw Wendy’s smiling face appear in one of the second-story windows, her hand waving excitedly out of it as we approached in our steeds.

“Oh, come on, we didn’t take that long.” Though he had essentially just been scolded, Kyle had a glowing smile on his face. Just this moment made almost all the tiring parts of travel worth it, to see how glad my partner would get to see his brother after so long and realize that nothing had changed. To have those moments of his youth back, even if for just a short stay.

“Almost a whole year, Kyle!” Stan retorted, slapping the side of his friend’s arm with his raised hand. “Wait a little more and you might as well have come for the kid’s wedding by then.”

Our mounts slowed to a stop as we reached the front porch, and we heard the thundering noise of several footsteps bolting down the stairs inside. Before we could even dismount, the smiling faces of Stan’s two eldest children - a boy and a girl - ran towards our horses, shouting excitedly and asking questions too quickly and with too high-pitched voices for me to even begin answering them.

“Easy now, children.” A much more soft and pleasant voice managed to be picked up by my ears among the ruckus, and my eyes darted towards the door immediately. Wendy Marsh stood by the doorway, her current youngest child - just shy of two years, if I had my math right - hiding behind her legs. My best friend had one of her hands resting on top of her belly, bump visible even under the loose-fitting maternity dress she wore, and I felt the guilt strike at me on sight; It had been too long since we last saw these two, she had gone through all those changes to her body and mind across multiple months, while I was off somewhere shooting people. I felt like an awful friend.

And then she did something that reminded me exactly how she was more than capable of handling this situation by herself. “YOU DARNED LITTLE RASCALS! SHUT UP THIS INSTANT AND LET YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE SPEAK!” This bellowing, infuriated version of Wendy’s voice had the kids fixing their postures and closing their mouths in an instant, not even daring to breathe loudly anymore, and they gave us one last glance before sprinting back quickly inside the house. The toddler followed suit, waddling after its siblings as fast as its tiny legs could carry it.

With the coast now clear, Kyle quickly slid off of his horse, in a swift movement that only comes with years of doing that multiple times a day. I stayed on top of mine, however, and right after dismounting Kyle made his way to the side of my steed, raising his arms towards me. I turned my whole body to his side and let Kyle take hold of my waist, lifting me off the saddle and putting me on the ground with ease. I was more than perfectly capable of getting out on my own, I had as much experience with this as he did - but this was something he fancied doing, he wanted to be a gentleman whenever he could and there weren’t many opportunities in our daily life for him to fill that role, so he loved to have that little moment and I learned to appreciate it. Plus, he’d get fussy if I didn’t let him do it, so I humored him every single time.

“C’mon, Wends, no need for that,” I turned to her as my boots hit the dirt, “Stan’s right, it’s been so long. They’re kids, they’re just happy to see us.”

“Well, but they’re not giving you a hug before I do!” And she didn’t have to wait any longer, wrapping her arms tightly around me as soon as Kyle let go of my waist and moved his body out of the way. I hugged her back carefully, trying not to put any pressure on her belly, something that she didn’t seem a lick concerned about but kind of worried me a little bit. I heard my partner’s boots kicking the pebbles beneath its soles as he power walked towards Stan to give him a hug as well - although in their case it was more of a side hug, slapping the palm of their hands against the other’s backs amidst laughter. The type of salute men usually shared, not as tender as the displays of friendship between us women, but just as heartfelt. 

After a minute or two like this, Wendy let go of me and gave me one last warm smile before going over to Kyle and giving him a quick hug, and I took the opportunity to do the same to Stan. Even if we weren’t as close as him and Kyle, he was still like family to me. We didn’t linger on the greeting, though; My best friend could get quite possessive when other women were near her man, even if it was just me, and I wasn’t gonna make that lady angry if I could avoid it. 

I swiftly took my spot next to Kyle again, and Wendy did the same near Stan.  “You’re looking gorgeous, Wends,” I stated with a smile. “Really glowing!”

“(Y/N)’s right. Baby number four, too! Stan, you must be proud!” Kyle stretched his arm out and placed his hand on Stan’s shoulder, shaking him teasingly. Stan just laughed and shoved his friend’s hand away from him, but when he straightened his stance again, his chest seemed a little more out than usual and his chin a little more high up. With his pride visible like this, I couldn’t help but be reminded of a rooster, or a peacock with its feathers all spread out.

“Thank you so much, you two. You’re really sweet,” Wendy wrapped her arms around her husband, hugging him from the side, face as happy as could possibly be - but then those smiles turned into a pout. “But don’t think being sweet is going to redeem you! You’ve barely written to us these months! We’ve been worried sick!” 

“Good thing we’re here now to tell you all about what we didn’t write,” Kyle said as he walked back near our steeds. ”Just let me hitch the horses somewhere out of the sun. I won’t be long.”

“No need.” Before we could take action, Stan quickly put two fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly, catching the attention of a nearby farmhand passing through, who stopped in his tracks and beelined to us. It was a young man, couldn’t be older than eighteen, with tanned skin from the hours under the sun, strong arms and a serious expression. “Oi, Milton. Take these horses here, lead them to the stables with the others and give them some water. Ah, and make sure they’re fed, they’ve been hours on the road.”

Milton gave a quick nod and took our horses by the reins, leading them slowly towards a big building to the left of the house. We followed him with our eyes for a couple of seconds, in silence. “Well, anyway, let’s take this conversation inside as well,” Wendy suggested, gesturing with her arm towards the house, her expression softening. “I’m sure y’all don’t want to wait out in this sun any more than the horses did.”

And she was damn right. We excused ourselves in and went through the doorway, sighing in relief as we found ourselves in the shade at last. “No issues on the travel, I assume?” She asked with a smile as Kyle took his hat off and put it in the hanger next to Stan’s.

“Just a tiny quarrel with the sheriff last town back, nothin’ major.” It had actually been a little bit more than that, but we didn’t want to worry our friends. The sheriff, an extremely unpleasant fellow who spent more of his time harassing the local ‘working girls’ than actually doing his job, seemed to have a real problem when people who actually wanted to stop crime came along. So, when we showed up to the town with a local thief tied up on the back of Kyle’s horse - captured in an extremely convenient encounter nearby - the so-called law enforcer decided we were ‘trying to come for his position’ and threw the tantrum of a lifetime looking for any reason to have us arrested. Luckily no guns were drawn, we left as quickly as we arrived, but the stress of the whole situation still stuck to us for a couple miles after that.

“Fuuuuck, I hate that feller. Please tell me you beat his ass.” Though Stan apparently had tried to make his dislike of the sheriff known only to Kyle, he did so in a rather loud tone, which made us all turn to him. “Short fat motherfucker loves to pull on my dick whenever I’m in town for anything. Pisses Wendy off, too. Damn failed abortion is what he is.”

“Language, Stanley!” Wendy chided, glaring at him. We heard a couple of giggles, quickly suppressed, and I turned my face upwards - on the second floor, leaning on the balustrade near the staircase, the children gathered, looking down at us and listening in on our conversation.

Kyle and I could only bend over ourselves laughing as the heavily pregnant Wendy chased upstairs, going after her much faster children to try and give them a thorough scolding as they yelled out their brand new vocabulary, while Stan made sure to quickly leave the scene so as to make it harder for himself to be next.

Oh to live this life on the daily.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

The rest of the afternoon went by without any issues. Kyle and I managed to take our first proper bath in days, which was extremely appreciated, and then our attention was almost immediately snatched by the Marsh children. My guess was they didn’t get many visitors on the farm, at least not many that were interested in hearing what small kids have to say, so now that they had people to talk to they were sure to teach us all the new things they had learned and play lots of different games with uncle and auntie.

With evening approaching, Wendy prepared some roast beef with mashed potatoes and fried red tomatoes with garlic, along with a whole apple pie for dessert - under the pretext that since guests were over they had the obligation of making more food to be sure we wouldn’t starve, and maybe spend a little more on the process. She knew Kyle and I would be fine with whatever she prepared, her cooking was so good she could probably boil tree bark on her stove and make it the best meal we ever had, so I knew the sizeable dinner was more a satisfaction of her pregnant whims. We all ate until we almost couldn’t fit in our pants anymore, and after the couple put their kids to bed, Stan brought out a nicer wine and we chatted our more mature matters well into the night. 

After a while, Stan and Kyle decided to go out for a smoke and a night walk around the property, leaving me and Wendy to clean up the dinner mess so that we could ‘talk about our feminine issues’, whatever that meant. So we picked up the dirty tableware and took everything to the kitchen, where she had previously set up two buckets - one with warm water and soap, one with clean water - for the dishes.

After we set everything on the counter and she tried taking another step going for the filled buckets, I immediately put my body in front of her, blocking her next steps. “No no no, little mama!”, I declared, putting both my hands on Wendy’s shoulders and pushing her slowly towards the smaller table in the kitchen, which they used for breakfast. “You’ve already done too much today and been on your feet all this time. Now it’s my turn.”

She tried huffing, stomping her foot and going around me, but my grip on her shoulders was strong enough that she couldn’t, so she bitterly relented and took a seat on one of the flimsy brown chairs near the table. “I’m pregnant, not disabled”, I heard her snort behind my back as I finally let go of her and turned towards the pile of dirty dishes.

“I know, I know,” was my reply while I picked up the first dirty plate and dunked it into the soapy water. “But you made this whole dinner for us and it was delicious, Wends. Lemme do this for you, will ya?”

“You helped with the fried tomatoes,” she retorted.

“Sure, but I’m not the one with a whole baby inside me.”

She giggled. “Not yet.”

My hand stopped in the air halfway through grabbing a dirty wine glass. “Come again?” I inquired as I turned to her with raised eyebrows.

“You tell me, (Y/N)! Ever since before I met you you’ve been running from place to place shooting people for money. Don’t you think it’s time you and Kyle settled down, bought a house somewhere? Maybe you two could even get married and finally stop living in sin.”

Her comment had me rolling my eyes, but I still let out a chuckle; the Marshs weren’t all that religious by any means, and Wendy was a particularly outspoken proponent of women’s right to choose how they wanted to live, so I knew she was just taking a jab. “You have no right to use that against me, miss,” I pointed a soapy wet index finger at her, “Not when I know all about what you and Stanley were up to before your daddy let you get hitched.” It was true and she knew it. After we finally became close friends, I was Wendy’s main confidant, and she’d told me all about her relationship to Stan prior to the marriage - tales in great detail about the different places where they met and spent the night together in secret when they were younger. They had lived basically a whole second relationship together away from prying eyes, and the only people who knew about it were within the same mile radius right now.

Hearing this, she smirked and lifted her left hand close to her face, so I could clearly see the back, and I knew then and there that she’d had the last laugh. “And it worked.” With her other hand, she pointed towards her left ring finger, and there was no pretending I hadn’t noticed the shiny golden wedding band she always kept polished to perfection.

Although we had been partnered all those years and were as close as two souls can be, legally Kyle and I weren’t married. We reckoned there was no need, we already spent every single moment together, putting ourselves in danger for each other during the day and sleeping in the same tent at night. Take away the expensive ceremony and we’re husband and wife. Plus, weddings were usually very religious affairs, and not only were we both very distant from that reality, there was also the tiny fact that we were well-known gunslingers (no matter how lawful we thought ourselves to be, killing someone, even a criminal, is still a cardinal sin) and I’m sure your usual religious leaders aren’t willing to officiate for people like that.

And then there was the matter of children. I had always wanted them, it was one of my plans for life, but I had pushed that aside the moment I picked up a gun for the first time. Kyle and I didn’t keep residence on the same spot for too long - we’d lived places, worked for people for a while, but nowhere that we could actually safely stay for years on end. Our normal life was that of setting camp everywhere, to avoid being tracked by any enemies we made along the way, having to move extremely quickly - and sometimes even that wouldn’t be enough and we’d have to face conflict head-on. We could never do that with a child in our arms, it would be a recipe for disaster. Besides, with my age, I just felt too old for them at this point; all the mothers my age had their kids way earlier and it felt weird to start now, like I wouldn’t have anything in common with them. That ship had sailed.

I knew all of that and I was alright with it. My love for Kyle didn’t need no overpriced dress or ring to be real, and we didn’t need kids to have a real family. Hell, so many couples go through that whole song and dance of getting married only to end up cheating and abusing each other beyond belief! If that’s what marriage is, then I don’t want any part of it, thank you very much. We were doing fine. 

So it was the little girl inside of me that felt that little stab of jealousy seeing Wendy’s shiny jewelry and huge belly - the little girl that did grow up flipping through wedding catalogs to see the pretty dresses, that spent her childhood thinking of the names she’d give for her future children and hearing stories about young ladies who met their Prince Charmings and lived their happily ever after, before life took its turns and made her into a killer. This little girl would’ve loved to have a house and kids, and would’ve taken Wendy’s offer in half a heartbeat, but she didn’t have the right to live anymore. 

So as it came, it went. I went back to the dishes, acting like this conversation hadn’t affected me any more than our other casual chats during the day. “Wendy, we can’t,” I said as I splashed a handful of forks inside of the now cold water, “We’re gunslingers, in case you forgot. We don’t have a house like you and Stan do. Ya think a child should grow up living like we do? That ain’t fair.”

I heard the drag of her chair as she got up from it and moved towards me, but before I could turn to tell her to sit down again, she had already closed the distance between us with very quick steps. “You don’t have to live like you do.” She grabbed my right hand between hers and looked me in the eyes in a way that seemed almost like she was pleading. “We told you already. There’s the old house in the back you can take, it just needs some fixing up, Stan would be glad to do it. The kids love having you around, you can help care for them and if you have some we can help too, they can grow up together-”

“Wendy, we’re not gonna live on your farm!”, I interjected before she could go any further in her crazy rambles. Rambles that it wasn’t my first time hearing about - both in letters and in person, she’d sometimes go on about how we should create roots and start a family somewhere nice, while underlining how the farm had all this space and needed more workers and the kids could use a few more friends… “This is y’all’s house. We ain’t gonna impose on your life like that.” I wriggled my hand away from hers. ”And gunslingin’s our job, it’s all we know to do. We wouldn’t know how to live like you do. So just drop it, please.”

She patted her now free hand against her dress to dry it and didn’t seem to want to look at me anymore. “The beauty of being alive is that you can learn.” I heard her say meekly, which made me feel extremely bad that I had been so firm with her when she was so excited about her ideas - but I didn’t want to give her hope, or rather, give myself more hope by listening to her.

I reached to pick up another dirty dish from the pile, but my hand grabbed at nothing. While giving Wendy’s babbles my undivided attention, I had mechanically done all of the washing, now everything just needed to be dried and put away. But, as I stretched my arm out to grab a clean dish towel, it was her time to stop me in my tracks. “I’ll take it from here.” She declared as she reached for the rag before I could and snatched it out of my range. When she heard me gasp and scramble for a rebuttal, she added: “No buts, you must be tired, y’all were on the road all morning and then the kids were also a handful. You’re done for the night.”

“I ain’t going to bed anyway,” I noted, “If you want me to do nothing then I’ll stay here with you ‘till you’re done.”

“Don’t worry about me. It’ll be quick, I’ll dry this all off, and then I’ll go out to call the dog back inside anyway, might as well give the men a shout to come to bed too.” She shrugged as she picked up a wet plate.

I honestly wanted to argue a bit more and not leave her alone like that, but my aching back was very interested in what she suggested - I had spent my whole morning on the back of a horse and then the whole afternoon chasing after zippy children. I sighed in defeat and nodded, earning from her an earnest smile. “Very well then, but tomorrow everything’s on me. Don’t wanna see you up and about before noon, understood? Good night.”

I turned on my heels to leave, hearing her giggle behind me. “Sure thing, (Y/N).” I started walking out of the kitchen, but just then she uttered: “Just… Think about what I said, alright? Good night.”

I looked back over my shoulder to see if she was going to say or do anything else, but her back was already turned to me, as she stared at the window above the counter, watching over her property.

I suppose I ended up doing what she last told me to do in the end, because our little chat really stuck with me through the next minutes.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Even after all the time I spent getting myself prepped for bed, Kyle still hadn’t returned by the time I was done with it. So I picked up a book from Wendy’s collection - reading was one of her main hobbies, growing up educated as she was, and she kept it up even after moving to the farm - and cozied up under the blanket of the guest room bed. I was happy to have something different to read this time; Kyle and I had a couple books with us, we liked to read whenever we had the free time, but it’s God awful having too many things when you’re always moving from place to place, so we kept our assortment to a minimum. Turns out it’s very easy to get annoyed at a book when it’s the only one you ever read, and those I had in my bag were starting to become a real eyesore.

This one I had in my hand I’d never seen before, but the cover was nice enough and the summary got me on its hook, so I was pretty intrigued. It was this fictional story about an outlaw who got diagnosed with a terminal disease and spent the rest of his life trying to atone for his sinful deeds, while also uncovering some truths about the people he was most close to. Without even realizing, even during the first paragraphs, I had grown attached to the main character - his sorrow as he looks back at what he managed to do with his life, when he remembers all the bad things he has done that brought him to his current situation, and the way he tries to change and make the lives of those he loves as easy as possible with the time he has left. 

It put me into deep thought rather fast. That character managed to change everything about his life, his core beliefs and priorities, when faced with the inevitability of death. He didn’t think he could, in his mind he was doomed to be nothing more than the sins he committed, and to pay for them when the time came for that - but, although he didn’t manage to live the happily ever after everyone wants out of life, he still managed to protect those he loved and leave an everlasting mark on the people around him.

‘The beauty of being alive is that you can learn,’ Wendy’s voice echoed in my mind again, teasing me with promises of a better life. Maybe it wasn’t too late for me and Kyle to change. We had something most others in our line of work didn’t have the luxury of - we had people willing to help us. But then again, did Kyle and I want to be helped? We had never considered such an option besides drunkenly debating those hypotheticals every once in a blue moon. It was possible that he didn’t even want something like this, and I’d rather bite my tongue out and never speak again than do so and lose him forever over it.

The sudden squeak of the ancient guest room door opening shoved me right out of the depths of my brain into the real world. Kyle was back from his long walk, whistling absentmindedly some random tune he probably picked up at a saloon. The rather acid stench that usually accompanied someone who had just smoked didn’t enter alongside him, and that I was glad for; He had obviously taken the time to air himself out and get all the smell out of his body before coming back in. I wondered if Stan had the same care towards his pregnant wife. “Sorry I took so long, Stan just wanted to show me the new horses and we ended up going for a ride on them.”

“No problem. I found myself something to do anyway.” I closed the book in my lap and lifted it briefly to show him the cover, before setting it on the nightstand, as far as I could from the candle that was also on top of it.

“You’ve gotta tell me what this one is about later.” He sat down on the narrow bench in front of the bed and began taking off his boots. “Did you and Wendy have fun together?”

“Sure thing, it was real nice”, I answered, “Lotsa great talking about our feminine issues and stuff. What about you, macho man?”

My voice carried a hint of sarcasm that he picked up on immediately. He turned his body slightly so he could look at me. “Sorry about that, I guess.” He rolled his eyes. “But you know you and Wendy don’t have the same kind of conversations Stan and I do. That’s what we meant.”

“I know, I know, I’m just playing with ya.” The reassurance that I wasn’t actually mad at him or his friend for the earlier comment made him relax a little. He turned his back to me again and started unbuttoning his shirt as I kept talking. “We really had a nice talk, her and I. It feels so good to be back here.”

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that. Let’s make the most of the next days then.”

As he got up from the bench to remove his pants, I took the opportunity to take a good look at his body. Kyle had a very lean build, it was quite hard for him to gain weight and build those big muscles some other guys had, but he was by no means weak; doing stuff at camp, handling bandits to bring them to jail and the exercise it all took made him a very fit guy who could stand his ground even without a gun. He was also quite pale, at least for someone who spent almost all his time outside, and had plenty of freckles peppered all around his soft skin. I remembered Milton again, the farmhand Stan hired, and wondered if working on a farm every day under the sun would make Kyle look like that too - I hoped not, I loved my partner the way he was, didn’t want him to change a thing. But I knew it wouldn’t: After many summers together, the only thing I ever saw the sun do to Kyle was make him redder than a tomato all over, and his skin would usually start peeling a day or two later, which was why he preferred to wear long sleeved shirts even in the hotter months.  

There they were, the thoughts of being on the farm again. I blinked and focused my blurry eyes on Kyle again. He had stopped undressing. “Everything alright, honey?”, he inquired, looking at me with a frown.

“Ya, it’s nothin’. Just thinkin’ ‘bout how handsome my man is ‘s all.”, I was quick to answer. He shook his head with a smirk and, without answering, went back to taking off his undergarments.

When he was fully in the nude, he made his way towards the bed, not bothering to put on any sort of sleepwear. In that, he matched me - besides the bedding, there was nothing covering my body. This was normal for us: there was literally no part of our bodies that the other hadn’t seen, so why bother hiding anything? Besides, it made everything so much easier when we didn’t have to spend time ridding ourselves of all that fabric before making love. It had made for some embarrassing situations in the past, where we had to jump straight out of our beds, guns drawn, prepared for trouble; but, no matter how much we told ourselves that we really needed to stop being lazy and start wearing our pajamas, we’d still lay down the next night in our birthday suits, because there was no shame anyone else could make us feel that was more important than the feeling of his warm skin against mine.

“But you wanna know what’s funny?” Kyle commented as he pulled up the covers on the right side of the bed to lay down beside me, “Stan asked me again what I thought of the old house. Said this time we’re not getting away.”

Him bringing this up came as a shock - my eyes widened and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Was this man a seer or something? How come he knew to bring up exactly the thing that was eating at my mind the whole night?

I managed to keep my cool and let out a laugh that might’ve sounded a bit too loud for comfort. “Wendy did the same thing to me!”, I yelped, “The way they talk about this with us you’d think they were tryna sell us the farm.”

“They really want us to move in.” He let out a deep exhale as his head hit the feather pillow after a whole day with very little rest. “And he did say Wendy would talk to you and have you hooked on it. That by the end of the year you’d have ‘a bun in the oven’ and I’d finally know the joys of being a father.”

“I’m sure it was just the wine talking. You know Stan’s a major lightweight.” Again with my deflecting. The truth was I didn’t want to give away that Wendy’s suggestions were slowly building a nest in my heart, because I knew it couldn’t stay. Maybe joking around a bit with Kyle would remind me of the situation we were in, that this idyllic little house life we led was only temporary, and that we were bound to go back on the road after a few days, in search of more work. All I couldn’t do was make my current interest too overt, and I would forget about it just fine.

“Eh, I don’t know… He seemed pretty serious to me. Not like he does when he’s drunk, and I’d know that.” He turned on his side, facing me, and I could see the reflection of my candle’s flame dancing inside his olive eyes as he stared intently. Either he was really captivated by it, or he didn’t want to look at me for some reason, and that made me even more worried. He stayed like this for a couple of minutes, during which the room fell to almost complete silence, only broken by the crickets outside or the occasional cackling of the tiny flame. “And… What did you think?” Kyle finally asked, lifting his face toward me, studying my features just in case they gave a different answer than the one that would come from my mouth. “About what Wendy said, I mean.”

“Hey, now, what I thought doesn’t matter.” It was now my turn to look away and stare at the flame, wanting to just blow it out and dunk the room in darkness, all to not continue this conversation. “You know it’s just silly daydreams she has. They don’t get out as often as they used to, with the children and whatnot, so she stays inside and comes up with stuff like this.”

Kyle rapidly sat himself up in the bed and cupped my face in his hands, turning it so that we could finally be looking at each other. “You know your thoughts are the only ones that matter to me.” He stated firmly, gazing into my eyes with even more certainty than that which he had in his voice. “I don’t care about what Stan or Wendy want. But if you have something to say, you have my full attention, no matter what it is.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, bringing my right hand up and resting it on top of his. It was fine. I knew I couldn’t just lie to Kyle here, he’d figure me out. And, with all his brains, surely he could come up with a logical explanation for my troubles and help me see the most sensible path. “Look, I’m sure they mean well and it’s such a pretty idea”, I started, “I’d love to do that if our lives were different. But as it is it wouldn’t stick, honey. There’s no point in pretendin’.”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

I expected all sorts of reactions from Kyle, but not this one. His hand withdrew from my face as he pulled his upper body slightly away from me, but still kept his stare fixed. Both his eyebrows were raised and his eyes were wide, and his mouth fell slightly open as he breathed through it. He looked like someone would if they heard something they didn’t want to, or received disappointing news; which wasn’t how he usually reacted to those situations - Kyle was the type to argue his point to the bitter end, so disagreements usually came with a lot more anger instead of sadness or anxiety. This time, he seemed hurt.

“Oh, honey… You know why.” I rested my hands on top of my chest, feeling my heart accelerate, and trying to ground myself before the shock became too much. “We can’t put a child in a world like ours. Would be torture.”

He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be a world like ours. We can live here, at least temporarily, and then we move somewhere else. Stan already gave us the go.”

“Kyle, you know we have targets on our backs!” I tried moving my body closer to his, like that might get the point across easier, my voice denouncing my increasing concern with his reaction. “All these people we sent to swing, their buddies always try to come after us. Stan and Wendy don’t deserve this. We can’t risk them.”

“How? We’re in the middle of bumfuck nowhere!” There it was, the anger flaring his nerves. It always happened when something hit close to his heart, he felt the need to explain himself and make the people around him ‘see reason’ - I knew that behavior too well, though I wasn’t normally on the receiving end of it. But right now this wasn’t about logic or reason. These were his wishes. “We’ll disappear. I’ll change my name, you’ll change yours, we fake our deaths, these people don’t remember anything anymore after a couple of months anyway!”

Although I kept on nervously laughing, he was hitting all the right points, the points my own heart made when it wanted to feed on the delusions for a while longer. Kyle was very good at that - if he thought something was the better option, he’d twist both Heaven and Hell to make it make sense. “Oh yes? Well, say we go through with it, what do we know about ranch life?” I let out another nervous laugh. “Can you plant anything? Feed cattle?”

“Does that even matter?” In a quick movement, he climbed on top of me, knees at the side of my thighs as he straddled my legs, the blanket draping from his shoulders since he didn’t bother getting out from under it. We didn’t break eye contact for a single second. “You know I learn fast. If I-You want this, then we can figure it out!”

Clarity struck me like a bullet. Did he just say ‘I’? “Stan… Didn’t really talk to you about anything, did he?”

He shook his head again, less enthusiastically this time, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Do you remember a couple months ago, after you and I left the gang, when we talked about life with a house and kids and what we’d do if we had that?” I nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see the gesture anyway - but he took my silence as agreement and continued talking. “I sent Stan a letter soon after. At first it was just to vent, but then he replied with their suggestion and I thought… Well, we could at least try.” The end of his sentence brought with it a faint smile to his lips, and he opened his eyes again slowly.

For the first time in this conversation had my little fit of laughter been genuine. The three of them had put all this in motion right under my nose, based on one wishful conversation we had, which Kyle had taken to heart and made sure to come to fruition. “I thought you liked the hunt, though” I said, head tilting to the side. “Liked bringin’ people to justice an’ givin’ ‘em what they deserved, no?”

“I like that, but I love you.” He answered without missing a beat. Felt like he was plain waiting for it. “And besides, it’s not like we can’t be virtuous people and do what’s right even without spending all our lives chasing after criminals. Our honor comes from our hearts, not from the barrel of our guns.”

Good ol’ Kyle with his smooth way of talking. It was one of the many reasons I fell for him - though his day-to-day life was rough and he shot outlaws for a living, deep inside he was still a very caring man, someone intelligent who saw all the bad in the world and still chose to do good. “Where did you even learn to talk like that?” I chuckled. “You shoulda been a writer, not a shooter.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll get started on that now, since I’ll have more time.” Taking my hands in his, he kissed my knuckles lovingly. Then his thumb grazed my empty left ring finger, his touch, as soft as his rough hands would allow it, lingering for a couple of seconds. “After the wedding, that is.”

“Wait, you serious?” This night was getting so filled with surprises, I might just believe someone if they said Sparky was a human in disguise. “No need for that, my dear. I’m already yours.”

“But I want to do it.” His hands let go of mine and he moved his body closer to me, giving me a quick peck to the forehead. Then he suddenly grabbed the blanket and yanked it to the side, throwing it on the floor and leaving both our bodies completely exposed. “And we gotta do it quick, before you start to show.”

Before I could ask him what I’d start to show, he pulled me by the shoulders and smashed his lips against mine fiercely. My hands shot up to grab his curls, making him groan into my mouth and deepen the kiss - and there it was, the now faint taste of the cigar I hadn’t smelled previously, spicy and earthy, but it tasted like the sweetest thing on the planet just because of the sheer passion we shared right now.  

As I felt Kyle’s hand drift up from between us to knead at my breast, I broke the kiss with a gasp. “Wait, here?” I asked, surprised, though the corners of my mouth curved up, snitches of my excitement.

“Now.”, he declared, straightening his legs and propping himself up in his arms to give me space to slide down and lay beneath him, with my head now on the pillow and my legs spread. When I broke eye contact for just a second and finally looked down, I saw his dick was already almost fully hard - was the simple idea of getting me pregnant enough to make him like that?

“Can’t wait to see how you’re gonna explain this to them tomorrow” I said with a giggle as Kyle lowered his body, putting his weight on his elbows, and planting kisses all over my face. My subdued laughs quickly got replaced by soft hums as he started going down the side of my neck with his lips, while his hips started rocking against mine, his cock grinding against my body and the tip spreading some warm precum over my lower abdomen with each slow movement.

His answer, unlike most everything he ever said, was simple, direct, and left no leeway for questioning. “Well, it would do them some good to get used to it.” I felt my face burn like the damn candle as he said that, and my pussy starting to drip with wetness, the arousal soaking into the bedsheet. He stopped his kisses for a moment to put his mouth to my ear, and when he whispered his next declaration, it felt like it was going straight to my cunt: “Because I’m keeping you filled up now. Make you mine all the time and no one can do a damn thing about it.”

“Oh, you gonna change your mind when I’m all big and swollen…”, I drawled feebly. Disputing his claims was getting hard now since my brain was getting foggy with desire, but I still had to try, even if just to hear him singing praises to me some more.

I felt his left hand coursing through my body, stopping with his palm flat on my midriff, feeling almost cold with how hot I was getting all over. “Absolutely not,” He whispered again, “You’re gonna be even more fucking gorgeous when you’re carrying my child. I’ll make love to you every single night.”

My hand started to move down between our bodies, too, as I tried to reach for Kyle’s throbbing cock, wanting to make him feel good - if I couldn’t with pretty words like he did me, at least I knew I could do it with actions. But, when my fingers touched his leaking tip, he immediately took his hand off my belly and gripped my wrist, moving it back to the side of my body. As I looked at him with a puzzled expression on my face, he simply shook his head, gave me another peck to the mouth and started pushing himself down on the bed, only stopping when his face was level with my pussy and his palms were flat at the side of my hips.

Just by seeing him there, I could feel my walls clenching around nothing, almost like they begged on their own for his loving and experienced touch. Kyle was a damn great lover and from the very first day we laid together it was like he knew all the right ways to make me come undone, and he had no shame about anything he did to achieve it - most of all, he was eager to do it. By God did this man love to please me. If that was what was waiting for me every night from now on, I could very easily get used to everything else.

He started planting small kisses on the inside of both of my thighs as he pushed my legs slowly up, my knees now almost hitting my chest. His lips felt soft and endearing on my skin, but this was not where I wanted them - and he knew it, with the way he held my gaze the whole time as he did it, his eyes glittering with his teasing ways. Every few kisses, he’d break the sequence with a slight graze of his teeth on my skin, the softest of bites, but enough to make all the fine hairs in my thigh rise up in a pleasurable goosebump.

Just as I was getting tired of the wait and was contemplating pulling at his hair to bring him away from my leg, it was like he had read my mind again. He let go of my thighs and put his hands on my hips, not quite gripping them, but steadying them in place. I closed my eyes and sighed contentedly as he licked a stripe from my already very wet cunt to my clit, giving it a very quick kiss at the end, which made me wonder for a second if he was about to start teasing me again and how long for. But then all thoughts left my brain as soon as he started swirling his tongue over my clit, in a pattern I didn’t know or care about, making me squirm almost immediately and dig my nails into my palm.

His tongue slithered down, making its way to my entrance, and my hips started rolling against his mouth, trying to help his movements as he fucked me with it. He’d grunt every now and then as he did it, lost in the satisfaction he felt by pleasuring me, and sending the vibrations through my heat, making me even wetter. I could feel him staring at me from down there, too, despite my shut eyes; He always paid attention to every reaction of mine, licking and sucking all the right parts that he knew made me squirm.

Then he moved up with his mouth to focus on my clit again and my hands darted down to grab at his hair, my palms hurting at the spots where the little crescent shapes from my nails had formed. I felt one of his fingers circling my entrance, gathering my arousal before plunging fully deep inside, my walls almost sucking it in. Another one soon followed and he started pumping them in and out while curling them upwards, massaging my sweet spot perfectly, still never missing the pace of the swirls of his tongue on my hardened bud.

It became too much too quickly. The dam holding back the river of my climax broke after not much longer and my orgasm washed over me violently, every single muscle in my body tensing up and my thighs pressing strongly against the side of my lover’s head while my hips rocked against his mouth, chasing my pleasure to its bitter end. One of my hands darted up to cover my mouth immediately, muffling the loud cries I let out as it happened, my one and only moment of clarity during the whole release.

And even then Kyle didn’t stop his ministrations, his hand covered with my juices as his fingers kept pushing inside, making way through my tightly clenched walls. After I came down from my haze, however, the overstimulation started to become rather painful - only when I managed to collect enough strength to tug at the back of his hair rather fiercely to pull him away from my cunt did he stop, and even then I swore I could see for a brief moment a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

Kyle positioned his body between my legs again and took his time to run one last stripe along my slit with his fingers, the ones he used inside me, before bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, with his eyes closed. He did this every time, not wanting to waste even a single drop of me. I was his favorite whiskey and, when it came to that, he was a damn alcoholic.

This time it was me putting my hands on Kyle’s shoulders and bringing him down for a kiss, running the tip of my tongue across his lips lightly, tasting my love in him. When we parted, gasping for air, I leisurely ran my hands over his upper body, caressing every inch of him they could reach - his cheeks, then down his neck, around his collarbone, his chest, until my left hand stopped at his shoulder, on top of his biggest and most visible scar.

Kyle had plenty of scars, these things came with our line of work, but this one was different. Not caused by a bullet or a knife, but rather by fire itself - a dynamite explosion that caught us by surprise during a shootout in this very state we were currently in. That fire almost took my lover’s life, dragged both of us into months of suffering and stress, and even years after it was extinguished we still carried with us not only the trauma, but a physical reminder of everything it claimed. 

The physical scar itself was a bit rough to the touch and full of small streaks and bumps all over. It spread all over his shoulder into the right side of his chest, his upper arm, and a bit over his back. Across the years, its color had faded from a gruesome brown to a slight reddish tint, but it still had a jarring contrast to Kyle’s pale skin. No part of it was delightful, if I’m being honest. Yet I’d kiss it every single night, caress it at every opportunity and massage it with expensive essential oils whenever those were available; because I’d take a whole life with that scar over even a single second of the alternative.

“You saved me, you know,” He murmured with a sigh.

“I know, because you say it all the time.” I chuckled. “But we ain’t gotta talk about that anymore, dear. You know I’d do it again.”

“Not that day. Well, yes that day, but also all the others before and after that.” He lowered his head closer to mine so that our noses and foreheads were touching, and his warm breath ghosted my lips, bringing the lustful haze back to my brain. At this point I didn’t know what I wanted to do more: Hear his voice forever as he whispered his praise and love towards me, or kiss him until I could feel all these words inside of my skin.

My partner took himself in his hands and started to slide the tip of his cock up and down between my folds, from my entrance to my clit, making my whole body twitch a little when he got to the still very sensitive bundle of nerves. “And you might just be about to save me again,” He continued, aligning himself with my entrance, “You’ll be the perfect wife and mother. My wife and the mother of my babies.”

Kyle pushed himself inside of me slowly, inch by inch, being extra careful as his big and thick cock stretched out my cunt. It didn’t hurt much, I was used to it after years of taking him regularly, but he still wanted to make sure I was comfortable every single time before continuing. 

Once I gave him a smile and a small nod, he started to push in and out slowly, letting me feel every single twitch of his cock inside me and every one of those veins I knew so well pressed against my walls in their entirety. He quickly built up momentum, however, and soon the room was filled with the squelching sounds of my wetness being pounded against, his hips striking my body and the bedframe hitting the house’s wooden walls perfectly synchronizing with it. After a while like this, without warning, he picked up both my legs and brought them over each of his shoulders, pushing my knees back against my chest, my toes touching his hair as they curled in pleasure.

Kyle was hitting my cervix with every strong thrust now, sending sharp and slightly painful stings that jolted through my lower abdomen with every smash of his soft head against that barrier. And yet, every time I felt those, I just wanted more and more; Having Kyle deep inside me in this position always managed to cover all the right spots inside of me, I just wanted to hold him, keep him there. And I knew he was feeling just as good as I was - the sounds coming from his throat were getting louder and louder as he shut his lips tighter to prevent them from turning into full brown growls, his fingertips whiter than ever since his grip on my hips was so fierce I was sure by tomorrow I’d have a few bruises there.

“K-Kyle… Aaaaah… Give… Me…” I whimpered between moans, stretching my arms towards him, nails scratching against his skin as I tried to grab his hips, keep them glued to mine forever.

“Lord… You want me even more, do you?” He responded with shaky breaths, and I immediately felt it when he picked up even more speed - a move made even easier by the amount of slick built up in and around my pussy -, jackhammering into my cunt and making me see stars both from pain and pleasure. 

At this point I should’ve known there was no point in even trying to hide our sinful sounds anymore, but I still felt like I needed to do it. I tried to pick up Kyle’s pillow from the side of my head and put it over my face to muffle my constant cries of satisfaction, but my partner immediately grabbed it from my hand and tossed it back in its place with a growl.

“No. Don’t hide it. I want to see it. The face you make… When you cum for me and I stuff you up to the brim.”

The scene he described burned into my brain almost immediately and I could think of nothing else. For him to fill me up, give me a baby, make us a family - it was all I wanted out of life now, and the mere thought of it was enough to have my muscles tensing and that familiar pressure on my lower abdomen to start building up again, threatening to snap. “Please, Kyle,” I whined, “Breed me. Give it all to me… I need it…”

“I know you do, darling...” He leaned closer to me to give me a kiss, the clash of our lips messy and awkward with our desperate need to touch each other and the fogginess in our brains, but we didn’t care. I just wanted to have him as close as possible. “I need it too… Cum for me, please. I want to feel you milking my dick to the last drop.”

He needed not ask further. For the second time that night I felt my whole body burst into electricity, my cunt spasming like crazy as I tried to give Kyle exactly what he asked of me, exactly what I felt like I was meant to do all along. My legs trashed all over near his shoulders and my back arched as I lost control of my body with the waves of pleasure that washed me over.

The tightness around his cock as my walls fluttered around him and my face contorting in absolute pleasure as I came were what finally did him in. Kyle threw his head back while he came undone inside me, grabbing my hips and pulling them towards him as he buried himself deep into my core, his manhood throbbing, painting my walls with his seed. The sensation was extremely new to me - I felt the warm spurts painting my walls, filling me up and leaving Kyle’s mark somewhere no other man could ever reach.

I wasn’t used to Kyle finishing inside of me. Considering the everlasting battle between our higher than average libidos and our fear of having children, the closest compromise for that was having him do it on my breasts, belly, mouth, face, even ass if he was feeling wild enough. On the rare occasions where he did cum inside, I couldn’t even enjoy it - my brain would immediately be flooded with stress and worry, shutting down any other sensation, and I’d spend the next month or so losing sleep waiting for my next period so I could finally be at peace again.

But here there was none of that. I could relax and ride out this high with him. I let him have his moment, heaving my exhaustion away quietly as I admired the red flush on his pale skin and the sheen of his sweat under the candlelight, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted like his lungs weren’t big enough for the amount of air he needed to live. When he finally opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was me, I felt wrapped up in his love all over again.

When his breathing started to steady, I figured he’d get himself off of me and take his place by my side on the bed. Instead, he just laid his whole body on top of mine, somehow being careful enough to not crush me under his weight as he collapsed.

“Kyle?” I gave him some quick taps to the shoulder with my fingers after a minute or two like this in silence, when I’d started to worry that he might just fall asleep. “C’mon, dear, you gotta scoot over if you wanna sleep.”

“Hmph… Sorry…” He groaned, with a sluggishness that made clear he was indeed just a few sheeps counted away from deep slumber. “Wanted to make sure to keep it all in. Don’t wanna waste…”

Even though he clearly didn’t want to, he slowly moved away from me and rolled to his side of the bed. When his dick withdrew from me, I suddenly felt a bit empty and wondered briefly if I couldn’t have tried to sleep like that or at least stay a little longer.

“Sorry, my dear,” I planted a kiss to the side of his head, “But you know, if you don’t get me pregnant tonight, we have plenty of time now.”

I sat back on the bed briefly to blow the candle out on the nightstand, plunging our room into almost complete darkness. As soon as I laid my head back on my pillow, Kyle brought his arm over my body and pulled me closer to him, nuzzling my hair.

“We have plenty of time now,” He whispered, with more energy in his voice this time.

And we definitely did.

Dividers by @cafekitsune