#it's just nice to see him get popped for once

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — 58. a second try

previous — master list — next

notes ; WE ARE FINALLY HERE. i can’t tell if it feels rushed but atp idec i’m just trying to get this out 😭✌🏽 POP DA MF APPLE JUICE GET THE FRICKING FIRE WORKS WE ARE GETTING LIT.

BONUS — 570 wc, just a little fun extra that i felt like writing 🫰🏽

you could feel the beating of your heart all the way in the back of you ear, it’s rhythmic patter at an abnormally fast rate as you nervously stood in front of donghyuck’s apartment door. a place that was very familiar to you once, but felt totally foreign now.

you wondered how it would all unfold, what the first few seconds of your interaction would go like. would he have a moment of realisation that maybe you weren’t worth his time? would you two even talk much? would everything just go back to normal after a month of not seeing each other? you were tempted to back out for a split second, rethinking this moment and reschedule your ‘date’ so you could mentally prepare yourself, even if you were the one who proposed it.

but the door opened, almost as if donghyuck knew you were there this whole time. with a slow pull, you were met with him, and the emotions washed over you like a wave. you could never forget what donghyuck looked like, you’re sure that an image of his face has been permanently scarred in your mind, serving as both a fond or traumatic reminder. the only change was the new jet black hair he wore, its length having grown by a little bit.

“i missed you.” were his first words, a bashful smile already stuck on his face that he couldn’t fight off. it was contagious, as soon enough you smiled back at him, unable to hide your joy. you missed him too, and you told him exactly that. “can i hug you?” donghyuck followed up, this time avoiding any eye contact.

the cuteness aggression you felt for him were put aside for a moment as you leaned forward and embraced the boy next door in a soft embrace, one which tightened as he pulled you closer. you got a whiff of his signature vanilla scent, one you wished to drown in by never letting go off him. but donghyuck already pulled away, retracting his arms back to his side.

“do you like the hair?” he asked with a shy smile sporting his face. you smiled again, nodding your head. you loved it. you loved everything about his look. and after seeing him again, you came to the conclusion that you just loved seeing donghyuck. “it’s a nice look.” you decided on keeping your answer simple, though your answer was enough for donghyuck to beam.

“thank you, it’s a new me. i got the website ready so let’s hurry up.” donghyuck motioned for you to follow him into his apartment. you followed the boy into his place and as you did, donghyuck’s words fully sunk in your head. they lingered as you watched the episodes, and they lingered even after you finished watching them all. looking to your side, you were met with donghyuck who’s head was slumped, having dozed off some time ago.

focusing on the newly dyed black hair, his words came back to mind. a new me. you couldn’t agree more with his simple statement as the hair brought a new identity to the boy you knew. it signified the start of something new, and new him, a new era, a new chance.

staring at his softened features that were in deep rest, you came to the conclusion that you truly were willing to take this new chance, and new him into your life.

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @hcvenue @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

[greenglowinspooks]

Hey. Shakes you by the shoulders. DCxDP where Eobard Thawne is Danny’s cool distant “uncle” that he never sees but always sends in the coolest gifts for the holidays.

~

Danny had grown used to seeing people injured at a surprisingly young age.

He wasn’t injured on the regular, or witness to some sort of extraordinary amount of violence; his parents’ lab was just… very volatile, and they were unprofessionally lax on safety measures on the best of days.

As such, when he saw an unconscious, incredibly injured man wearing some sort of superhero suit in their backyard in the early hours of the morning (he had gotten up to get a glass of water when he heard a thump outside), he didn’t panic, as any young child should have in his situation.

No. Instead, Danny dragged the man inside (with considerable difficulty; despite how thin he was, he was heavy), treated his wounds as best he could (it’s difficult for a child younger than 10 to do stitches, you understand), put a blanket over the man, and went back to bed.

After losing a fight to the Flash and passing out in a random suburban lawn, the last thing Eobard was expecting to wake up to was a small child sitting on the floor in front of him, noisily eating a bowl of cereal.

(He had thought, maybe he would have been found by the Flash and brought to some Justice League holding cell. Or, found by a civilian, and brought to the police. Perhaps, in his feverish state, he had remembered the prison he ended up in from his time, with their brands and chemicals and torturous therapies.)

For some unknown reason, this child had found him, not recognized him as the monster he is (perhaps due to the boy’s age), and helped him—even if his healing factor would have fixed him eventually, having all his parts in the right order certainly sped up the process.

Usually he wouldn’t care for civilians. He’d killed enough that he’d lost count what felt like an eternity ago—and yet, somehow, he felt indebted to this boy. This boy, who had helped him so selflessly, who was so entirely clueless to the evil right in front of him.

This boy, who was all alone in an empty house, whose sister was away, whose parents had gone on a trip and left him behind.

(It didn’t matter the explanation the boy gave for it, Eobard’s mind whispered to itself regardless. Kin. Like calling to like.)

And so, he worked hard to free himself from this debt he had incurred.

He traveled through time, working his way into the family whilst posing as a distant relative. It was remarkably easy; the Fentons didn’t have an incredible memory of their relatives; all he had to do was forge a few papers and mention a few people and he was now “Uncle Eo”.

It was, however, taxing on the mind. These people were absurdly friendly, not to mention talkative. The effort had become a multi-year operation, popping in every now and then for large family gatherings and home visits.

It felt… nice, to be wanted for once. To be noticed in his absence for more than just his status.

To be liked.

He made sure to send the boy a gift on the right holidays, as well as on his birthdays. With his skillset, it wasn’t too difficult to follow him around and see what he liked and wanted. It also wasn’t difficult to spy in when he opened them, to ensure that he had done an acceptable job.

Of course, he couldn’t let this sort of thing cut into his time spent fighting the Flash, so he wasn’t too present. The last thing he wanted was to drag trouble into the boy’s life from his presence.

But then, it happened.

He found out that this boy, and the one known in his time as Phantom, were one and the same.

It was, as a historian, thrilling.

It was, as a villain, horrifying.

In all his travels, he had never intended to involve himself with that mysterious being which shadowed the Justice League. That ghost with the power, in some timelines, to bring about the end of all things.

Of course, he was also capable of doing that, but it isn’t exactly fun to meet someone who’s powers are a match for your own.

Especially if you couldn’t find it in yourself to end him, should he make himself your enemy.

Still, he had a debt to repay, and a boy to look after.

He delivered things to the boy’s room to help him; tactical gloves, a lightweight protective suit, weapons and equipment. All uncredited, since the boy seemed to value the idea of a secret identity.

He took it upon himself to shift the odds in his favor a few times, even; making faster-than-light adjustments to the boy and his combatants during fights to shift the odds in his favor.

Somewhere along the years, he had formed some sort of odd affection for the boy, if he was capable of doing so at all.

And so, when that ghost-boy sought his Uncle Eo out all the way in Central City, carved open and scarred, a distant look in his eyes, he took him in without a second thought.

He would protect this boy, who once had protected him.

[quandledlngle69]

"FUCK AROUND & FIND...INK?"

☆ CONTENT: After your fiancée gets cold feet two months into your engagement, you find yourself booking a trip to Berlin with your girlfriends. After a night of hardcore clubbing and alcohol still running through your veins, you impulsively decide to get a tattoo. You find the only studio open so late, and a handsome mysterious tattooist that awaits inside. ☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: Heart break, reader is mentioned to have been engaged before, brief mention of reader having braids, height difference, mention of drinking and clubbing, tattooist AU, reader is black, reader imagining kaiser in sensual ways, reader basically being a horny dog  Kaiser is a tattooist, suggestive, tension, close proximity, physical touch, needles, sexual innuendos, reader thirsting over Kaiser lol. ☆ PAIRING: Tattooist!kaiser x Black!Femreader ☆ W.C. 1.9K ☆ NOTES: This one–shot was asked for by this anon, enjoy.ᐟ

After a particularly bad heartbreak–what do most people do?

Cry–maybe go to the bar and drown their sorrows out with the devils piss, maybe snap and throw everything around in their apartment.

Maybe you did everything you just listed in order–maybe you didn’t. 

After your fiancée got cold feet and dipped on you two months after he got down on one knee, and the only thing you were thankful for was that you hadn’t poured your chunk of savings into the wedding yet.

You decide to impulsively book a holiday with your girls. A nice European country–a capital city. You and your group settle on Berlin for a week. You had heard about the wicked nightlife and the electric atmosphere of the clubs that whisked you towards it. Not only that, you were a foodie and a fat history nerd. The first two days were spent dining in fancy upscale restaurants and sight–seeing until your feet felt like they were going to fall off. The third day however–was raves and clubbing. After a night of dancing, you and your girlfriends found a quiet spot, a booth, to relax in. A hazy, reckless thought takes hold of one of your more risks–taking friends: getting tattoos. A long thought that had popped up in casual conversations a few times, but a concept no one took seriously until now. While the strawberry daiquiri you had still ran in your veins, you agreed with enthusiasm. Something small, something impulsive. Something that will leave a mark beyond just memories.

It was such a stupid and impulsive decision, using google maps to find the nearest tattoo shop which was open at this time, (mind you, it was almost midnight) there was one a twenty minute walk away, surprised it was still open, you and your girlfriends collectively decide to make the suggestion a concrete choice. It was as you envisioned, in a dingy alley covered in graffiti, the rest of the shops seemingly little merchandise and cafes of different kinds. You and your girlfriends stumble into the dimly lit tattoo studio, the bell ringing softly above you. It was the kind of place that looks like it only exists for those who know where to find it. It had a scent of antiseptic, ink and a certain musk. And that’s when you see him.

He’s behind the counter, a messy mullet of blonde hair; the tips a deep electric blue falling into his sharp, angular face. His tattoos are what stand out on his skin the most, a spiral of black thorns snaking up his forearms and–fuck–thick biceps, a blossom of blue roses on his neck to finish it off. You had the sudden, reckless urge to trace them with your fingers.

Or your tongue.

Your eyes skim him shamelessly, taking in the mysterious man.

Kaiser.

Well, that's what the pin on his black vest says anyway. A name of a past emperor, something you remembered from your history classes.

He’s got that effortlessly cryptic, slightly disheveled look—like he just rolled out of bed but somehow still looks like sin. His eyes flick up when they enter, sweeping over your girlfriends once, but you, twice.

"Looking for something?" His voice is deep, thick with a german accent, making the words feel like a slow drag over your being. You know he’s addressing all of you, but it feels like the comment was directed at you only.

Your more extroverted friend is the one to take the wing and talk. You can see him clearly consciously taking in everything she’s saying–even nodding his head slightly from time to time, but his eyes would dart away. It was subtle, so subtle no one would notice, well, except for you. Because it was you he was glancing at. 

He cleared his throat, snapping you out of your trance as he crossed his arms. “Which one of you ladies is up first then?”

“I’ll go first,” you interjected as you stepped forward. Cringing internally, you hoped you didn’t sound too desperate.

His smirk was lazy, his swivel chair turning slightly to peer at you better from over your friend's shoulder, his head tilting a little, almost as if he was enjoying the view. "What and where?"

You mindlessly swallowed, your voice sounding less confident than you hoped for. "Something small–like a quote. On my ribs."

His gaze flickered lower, and just like that, the air between you both shifted.

"Ribs are sensitive," he murmured, almost a borderline flirty jab. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

You arched your brow. "I can take it."

The way he smiled—just a little, just enough to feel dirty—it made something hot coil in your stomach.

It was like the company you came with didn’t even exist anymore, and it was just you and him in his dingy studio.

He abruptly stood up from his chair, nodding as he gestures for you to follow him to the back.

If you weren't sober before, you were definitely stone cold sober now.

Your girlfriends give you an excited send off before you turn the corner, stepping through the door to the back. You trailed behind him like a slug, the form of his back making your jaw go slack, it was so defined in the fluorescent light–there were muscles for days. Your mind raced around to create scenarios in your head–like how pretty it would look with scratch marks from your manicured nails. Or maybe it was the height distance that made you throb more, knowing your cheek would barely brush the top of his shoulder, even in your inched heels.

The air feels as heavy as a weight as you look around the small room, filled with small pieces and parts of the unknown man's personality, making him a little less mysterious in your mind. The antiseptic and ink smelled a lot stronger here. He waved at you to sit and lay on the bed, which you did, stiffly. It made your mind race even harder knowing the placement was directly under your tit. While he was busy setting up the equipment, you were trying to bask in the silence and not focus on the fact this guy was handsome enough to have you sweating and stuttering over your words. Your friends would tell anyone how picky you were when it came to men–It even surprised you. A man grabbing your attention like a vice was as rare as a blue moon event. You thought you would have lost an appetite for men for a long while after your heart break. You shift the bottom of your flimsy baby tee up until a slither of your lace bra peeked out, enough, you think, to give him a comfortable space to work.

When his gloves finally touch your bare skin, it's like a flip switched in your brain, your once tense body almost instantaneously melting back into the leather fabric. The pain is prickly, but your mind is somewhere else entirely—on the heat of his body, the scent of his masculine cologne, the way his arms flex as he works, the way he occasionally glances up through his blonde lashes, like he knew what ran through your mind down to the last detail. His fingers are firm yet gentle, the warmth searing through his gloves like a cauterisation. He positions you exactly how he wants–his breath occasionally ghosting over you as he leans in to work. His whole forearm rested on your waist, and you internally groaned with each flex of his muscular bicep. 

You wondered how it would feel around your head–

You failed miserably to focus on the buzzing of the needle, every time he repositions, every time his touch lingers just a little too long, your breath catches ever so quietly. The tension is unbearable—thick, heavy, and smoldering.

At one point, he shifted, his knuckles brushing against your underboob, and you barely held back a whine.

He noticed.

"Careful, liebling." he murmured, lips so close to kissing your skin you trembled. "Wouldn’t want me to mess up, would you?"

It was a taunt. A blatant, teasing challenge, and the heat between you thickened, turned dangerous.

You went deathly silent in response. You hoped he wasn’t looking for one anyway, because whatever sentence next spilled from your lips at that moment would have an old woman clutching her pearls.

By the time he’s finished, the air between you is downright suffocating. 

The loss of his touchy warmth was almost unbearable. He wiped your freshly inked skin down cautiously for the final time, his fingers dragging the skin under your rib cage just a second to long. And then, as you sat up slowly, he leaned in—just close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His sharp blue eyes dragged over you, slow and assessing. It was that point you noticed his large hand splayed out on your knee, squeezing it slightly, a ticklish feeling that grounded you like concrete. His eyes flicked to your glossy lips, almost as if he was wondering what they tasted like.

"You handled that well," he hums, and it tingles deep in your bones, his voice low, teasing. "Thought you'd squirm more." 

"I told you," you whispered back with feigned triumph, pulse hammering. "I can take it."

Something dark flickered in his gaze. And then—so subtle it almost didn’t happen—his fingers skimmed your thigh, barely there, but enough to send a bolt of heat straight to your core.

"If you ever want another…" he said, voice low, thick with promise. "I take private late-night appointments."

The straight up erotic innuendo had you wanting to pounce on him right then and there. 

You should leave. You should stand up and walk out. Maybe declined his offer, knowing this was only a vacation, and you would probably never see him again. Maybe to keep your self–respect, at the very least.

You had thrown that out the window ages ago.

Instead, you meet his intense and heavy gaze, your lips curve into a slow, almost giddy smile.

"Good to know."

You had spent the next two hours zoning out on the waiting chair in the lobby, watching each of your friends go in the back for their tattoo. Meanwhile, you were thinking over the whole interaction from start to finish more times than you could count on your fingers and toes. Your mind was already racing, planning on shoving more of your hard earned money towards another few days stay in Berlin. Damn, your girlfriends would definitely catch on to this little fling–(if you could even call it that) with the tattooist with the way you're twirling your braids around your finger and kicking your feet like a little girl.

Once they were all finished, you definitely wanted to throw a tantrum as everyone got ready to leave. Yet when your eyes caught the sharp cerulean ones again, he beckoned you to come over from his place behind the counter. As you stepped forward, your heel clacking echoing on the wooden floor, you could see him scribbling something on what looked liked–a receipt.

“Uh, what's this–”

“My number, hübsches Mädchen."

“Oh.”

The heat rose from your chest to your neck as he smoothly grasped your wrist, putting the receipt in your open palm. The pads of his fingers were rough, the opposite of yours. You noticed the crown design on the front of his hand, and the way his nails were perfectly painted black before he pulled away.

“Oh yeah–ah–thank you–” You were too busy stumbling over your words to notice your girlfriends pulling you out of the door.

And as you stepped outside, the cool air making you shiver, your skin still burning from his touch, you knew one thing for certain—

You were definitely coming back.

･ﾟ★ credits for dividesr.ᐟ: @penissekai

 Quandaledlngle69 © 2025

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Back Forty View (On Our Piece Of Ground)

10 - I Will Always Return

Pairings: Tyler Owens x OFC Georgia Tennley-Owens, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: Just a whole lotta angst and sad, but a smidgen of happy at the end. More babies???

A/N: I was soooo stuck on this one so it's a little short but I think it rounds out this part of the plot nicely so that we can get both pairs back by themselves for a bit. Don't worry though this won't be the last chapter of this story, just the last one for a little bit while Tyler and Gee and Jake and Sam focus on each other again. As always I am ecstatic that y'all continue to read, comment, reblog, and so on. Knowing you enjoy this story as much as I do fuels me to write more! Gifs by @kaizsche Pics from Pinterest and a little collage by me in the middle. And there's a wee surpprise at the end, a little banner/collage thingy since so many of you seemed to enjoy that. Please enjoy!

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03 @coloraturadiva @kmc1989 @khouse712

“Jacob Seresin. What do you have to say for yourself?” Officer Mullins said, glancing at the school superintendent. 

“I’m real sorry. I won’t do it again.” Jake murmured, his gaze flicking from his father to the cop, then down. He’d folded his hands behind his back and his heart was pounding.

“No you won’t. Because if you do, you’ll go to jail. Now I hope that maybe you find God, or perhaps some sort of structure to keep you in line. Maybe the Military, like your stepfather.” The superintendent said, making it a point to emphasize the word ‘stepfather’ which made Jake ball his fists behind his back. Kenny noticed that and clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder, rubbing firmly to ease the tension. 

“Yessir.” Jake agreed softly, not daring to look anyone in the eyes.

“You're dismissed.” The superintendent waved a hand and sat at his desk. Jake had nearly gotten expelled. He wasn’t going to take anyone talking shit about his brother, especially not some dumb football jock who’s dad is rich and gets everything handed to him. Jake wouldn’t fucking have it. He was just sorry that Tyler didn’t see him knock the kid senseless. He’d be proud of him for five seconds and then once Tyler heard what his punishment was, he’d be pissed. Jake started praying in the truck on the way home, because it was going to be rough on an out of school suspension just before graduation.

“Jake. I swear to god, boy, you better figure somethin’ out.” Kenny’s voice was rough, and stern as he drove out of the school parking lot. 

“I’m sorry, Kenny...dad...I’m sorry...” Jake said, twiddling with his thumbs and watching as they passed some of the Emory Family’s wheatfields. 

“I know you are Jake but damn it, why’d you have to do it? You couldn’t just let it go. You need to get that temper under control.” Kenny said, sighing heavily.

“I’m sorry...” Jake said, again, his tone apologetic and coming out almost flustered. He didn’t know how to not defend his family. He didn’t know how to not stand up for them.

“Y’know, maybe the Navy would be good for you. Give you somethin’ to expel all that pent up bullshit on.” Kenny looked pointedly at Jake, taking a left instead of a right toward their house. They headed to the Navy Recruitment office to see what Jake could do from there. 

Later that day, the green pickup rumbled along, the engine louder than ever. Jake knew it needed an oil change when it did that, and he would get around to it eventually, but he was trying to make sure he got top marks in class and stayed in tip top shape. Once he graduated, he was off to the Navy. And Tyler, well, Tyler was off to start his rodeo career. 

Jake popped a CD in and a twangy country song began to play as he glanced over at his brother, who was mouthing the words with a huge smile on his face and his arm slung out the window. Tyler shot him a look, full of pride but also concern. Tyler was ecstatic that Jake was joining the Navy, but he was also worried. What if he got deployed and got killed? But he knew it was what Jake needed to rein him in. Tyler had to push those thoughts out of his mind for now and enjoy being with his brother instead.

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

Jake sat on the couch at his parent’s house, feeling the depression creep in and slowly consume him. Samantha and Jeanie had gone to the store and he was glad of that, knowing that his mother approved of his fiance. Kenny was out mowing the lawn, having had Tyler fix the tractor for him. 

Ballast, Jake’s dog through and through, sat with his head on Jake’s lap, his ever deepening amber eyes continually checking in on his owner. He would whine every once in a while and then poke Jake if he stopped petting him. Jake sighed heavily and then began to speak to the young dog.

“I don’t wanna go back to California bud. I wanna fly again...but I wanna stay here. I didn’t know how much I missed it here until I came back. I don’t know if I can say goodbye so soon.” He murmured, his fingers scratching behind Ballast’s ears. The dog shifted, his brows furrowing. Jake couldn't get over how expressive the dog was sometimes. “And...I’m freakin’ out about Sam...like, how can she not be pregnant already? It’s me, right? I’ve gotta be shootin’ blanks because there’s no way such a perfect, gorgeous, beautiful fucking woman could have anything wrong with her... fuck . I know I’m the problem...I’m always the problem.”

Ballast raised his head, staring straight into Jake’s eyes, amber burning through green steadily like a forest fire. Jake smiled weakly, his hand running down the dog’s back. Ballast stretched up and licked Jake’s cheek, then went to nibble on his ear. Jake laughed and rubbed the dog’s head, then pulled him into a hug. Ballast put a paw over Jake’s shoulder. In that moment, Jake felt like he was eighteen again, a fucking delinquent helpless to do anything else but hug the damn family dog because she’d been the only one not disappointed in him. 

As Jake wallowed in his sadness, Ballast sat quietly, across his lap, offering the same support that the dog’s dad had that first time he’d met Ryker. In so many ways, Ballast had become so much like Maddox, and Jake was thankful for that. There were things that dog had opened up in him, scars that he’d scratched at that Jake couldn’t put away. Jake’s anger, which always manifested because he was being protective, was the biggest one, and the harshest. 

“You get mad at him, he’s gonna come at you, Jake. He’s gonna take you down a peg. Control your anger.”

Jake’s gaze settled on Ballast. He took a deep, shuddering breath, which the dog noticed and again, he curled closer to his human. Ballast didn’t give a fuck about the other two dogs. Not one single fuck. He only cared for Jake. He’d been particularly sticky with Sam lately though and Jake didn’t know if that was an indication of anything. Jake was snapped from his introspection then by the front door opening. Rocco and Muster barked once each, and then went back to laying down together in a warm ball.

“Hey.” Sam said, as she helped Jeanie bring in the groceries that she’d gotten. Jake snapped his fingers at Ballast, who moved off his lap and heeled to Jake as he helped grab more bags. Jeanie wanted to get a lot while she had the help, knowing that Tyler and Georgia wouldn’t be along to visit for a little while with Jaycen. They’d have to go up toward Stillwater to see their grandson, which wasn’t a problem, but they knew Tyler and Georgia were also busy with work too. 

“Hi.” Jake kissed her on the cheek as he took some of the bags, placing them on the counter. Sam began putting food away as Jake went out to get more bags. Jeanie sighed as she met him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Momma. You go sit. I’ll grab the bags.” He said softly, taking them gently from her. She smiled as she patted his arm and used him to help her up the stairs. 

“You’re always a good boy, Jake. Thank you. I’ll rest my feet and then start on dinner. You should eat before you head out.” She said and Jake nodded. He grabbed the rest of the groceries, and helped Sam put them away. All three of the dogs had risen and Jake decided to take them for a short walk to the end of the driveway and back. Sam elected to go with him.

“You seem off today. What’s wrong?” She asked, wrapping her arm around his waist. He placed his around her shoulders and they matched steps as they walked. 

“Don’t wanna leave...” He murmured and Sam nodded.

“I know you don’t but we have to go home at some point.” She said, pulling him closer. He let out a deep sigh again, feeling his anxiety bubble. Why was he anxious?

“This is my home.” His brows furrowed and Sam drew back slightly. He knew he shouldn’t have said it.

“What about my home, Jake?” She asked, stopping. He came to a halt too and she stepped away from him. He shook his head, reaching for her.

“I know...I’m sorry. I’m just...I don’t know...” He couldn’t express his thoughts to words that would be what she wanted to hear at that moment. Sam wanted to go home. The only thing tethering Jake to Miramar was her. Of course there was his promotion and all that, but he could be a Lieutenant Commander anywhere in the world. He didn’t have to stay specifically in Miramar to do that. He could be stationed in Oklahoma City at Tinker Air Force Base, or he could be even closer in Enid, at Vance Air Force Base, which employed an active flying academy. If he wanted to teach, he could be closer to home instead of being stationed in Miramar. But he also understood that it was where Sam felt the most comfortable. And Jake would be uncomfortable so that she could be okay. He’d promised her that much.

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

This was the fucking worst. 

Jake said goodbye to Jeanie and Kenny and he held it together. He was okay with that because he’d left a hundred times before, but this, this was fucking heartbreaking. 

He hugged his brother tightly, too tight. So tight that Tyler had to pry him away. When his brother looked into his eyes, the matching sage green meeting, his brow furrowed and he sighed.

“It’ll be okay, Jakey. You’ll be back soon enough.” Tyler’s voice was low, at a whisper, because he knew Jake didn’t want to leave. He knew Jake wanted to stay here, but he couldn’t. Sam was tugging his heartstrings so fucking hard to go back to California, that it was overriding everything in Jake that made him want to stay. Tyler's voice was quiet because he knew Jake didn’t want Sam to hear what he had to say next. “If somethin’...anythin’...doesn’t work out, you will always have a place here, with me and Gee.”

Jake pulled away then, Tyler’s words stinging. He knew what Tyler meant though. He knew if things got rough and he had to retreat somewhere for a while again, that he could come here. Tyler was well aware that Jake never wanted to leave Samantha, but he also knew that if Jake needed to get away, this home would be open to him for that.

“And you call me more than ya have been the past couple years. Text me as much as you want. I don’t mind.” Tyler’s words were comforting then. 

“I know. Thank you.” Jake said, taking a hold of his brother’s shoulders then, his grip like heavy stone. He backed away from Tyler, only about a foot or so, allowing Georgia to step in smoothly with baby Jaycen. Jake’s eyes grew misty as he gently let his fingers brush over the little boy’s head. He had nearly a full head of hair now, short and sandy brown like his father’s. The boy reached for him, and Jake offered a single finger, which Jaycen wrapped a chubby hand around and giggled as he did so. Georgia watched her husband’s brother’s expression dissolve into one of anguish. Jake could only weakly smile at Georgia, whom he then kissed on the cheek softly before he reached for Sam. 

“Thank you for everything. We’ll be back soon.” Sam said softly to Tyler as she drew back from his warm embrace. She’d already said her goodbyes to Georgia and Jaycen, but as she took Jake’s hand, she carefully hugged the other woman once more. 

Ballast and Grits were just like the brothers, getting in one last play session before they parted ways. It was like the dogs knew. Muster had become fast friends with Waffles, and Pancake had taken a liking to Rocco, but the four quieter dogs all sat in a line near the truck, waiting for a signal. Tyler snapped his fingers for the cattle dogs and Jake opened the back seat for his. He lifted Rocco in and then shut the door. Grits glanced up and whined softly to Tyler, who reached down and patted the red dog’s head.

Georgia saw longing in Samantha’s eyes as she took one last look at little Jaycen as her and Jake piled into the already packed truck with the dogs, their Christmas gifts, packed bags, and some food for along the way in a giant cooler. Georgia would miss that truck, but most of all she would miss her husband’s brother and the wonderful women he’d found. She would miss the dogs and how well they fit in with theirs. 

“Drive safe! Let us know when you get home!” Tyler exclaimed, and as Jake backed out of the space in the driveway and turned around, he waved. Sam did too, and Tyler and Georgia waved back and then they both glanced down at their son and the dogs, who had gathered at their feet. 

The Owens household would be a little too quiet for a little while after that.

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

Jake and Sam drove in silence, the dogs all comfortably napping in the back seat. Their journey home would be around twenty hours of driving and making some pit stops along the way to the Texas Air and Space Museum, the New Mexico Route 66 Museum, the Japanese Garden of Friendship in Phoenix, Arizona, and a short detour to Joshua Tree National Park before finally reaching Miramar.

Jake elected to do the first part of the drive, as he felt like he just needed to. He'd put on a spotify playlist that Tyler had made and shared with him, plenty of country music to keep his thoughts on the road and just a little distracted. Sam was scrolling on her phone and at some point, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, she stopped and placed it on the center console, her gaze settling on the landscape and fading light out the window. 

“Hey.” Jake's voice startled her slightly, but he reached across the console and she intertwined her fingers with his. It was an action he'd done a million times before but this time it had a certain weight to it. There was an uneasy tension between them, and they could both feel it. It was suffocating.

“It's my turn now because I know you're not okay.” Sam said softly, as she squeezed his hand firmly. Jake's eyes left the road for a second and then focused back.

“What's that mean?” He asked, tone flat. She shifted beside him. 

“I know you don't want to go home...to California. I'm forcing you to. I know that.” She admitted and he glanced at her again, but didn't reply, so she continued. “I'm sorry. I just can't leave for good yet.”

Jake's brows knitted and he felt like he should pull over, but he wanted to get to their hotel. His voice came out slightly shaky and it made Sam tear up.

“I told you when I first came home...that I would shatter myself to pieces for you. That I would take all of your pain and get rid of it. I can still do that...but you then need to be patient with me because I need space after everything is put on me. It's why I don't hang out with my detachment sometimes. It's why I like being at home with you and just sitting doin’ fuck all.”

“I’m not asking you to take it all...” She murmured.

“Aren’t you? I told you. I am comfortable in Oklahoma. In Arkansas.” Jake’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. Sam noticed this and she placed her other hand on his forearm, rubbing up and down, trying to quell the frustration she could feel building within him.

“We have to go home though. Your job is there. My mother is there. She just lost her husband. I just lost my...” Sam’s words came out choked and she wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. Jake’s jaw worked as he felt tears sting his eyes knowing that he was upsetting her. 

“I’m sorry...I don’t wanna fight, Samantha. We’re both tired, we’re both upset, and I don’t think we should keep talking about this while I’m driving. When we get to the hotel...can we pick this up again? Please?” Jake asked, sage green flicking nervously over to her. She nodded and went to take her hand from his but he wouldn’t let her and instead lifted it and touched his lips to the back, leaving them there for a few moments before resting their entwined hands on the console. “Don’t pull away, please. Don’t lea...leave me...” He stuttered.

“I’m not going to leave you, Jake.  I love you...I’m just...having a hard time with this too...you probably don’t realize it but i was happy there too...but I feel obligated to go home. My home is not your home, I know that. But I wish I was your home .”

“Fuck...Sam...Samantha...you...you are my home. But sometimes I just don’t feel like I belong there, and I hate that...”

“Why...why would you ever feel that way? Am I not enough for you?”

“You are. You will always be. But I feel like I’ve been failing you. I feel like I came back damaged and it’s just been a fucking downhill slope that I keep sliding down and I can’t get back up...and then we came here and I don’t know, I suddenly didn’t feel like that. I felt like I brought you down here and that you were finally safe. We were finally safe.”

“Do you not want to fly again? Is that what this is about?”

“No I do...but I don’t know that I want to be deployed again. I am fucking terrified that I won’t come home...I’ve lost enough pilots, enough friends...when do I not come home, huh? And then what...I leave you and a kid without a husband and father? I can’t even bear the thought of that. It makes my chest hurt like hell, holy shit.”

“How do you become an Admiral then? Do you even still want that?”

“Yes. I do. And I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.” Jake’s voice trembled with his last words and then Sam’s free hand made it’s way to his chest, as she leaned slightly over the center of the truck.

“Jake. I love you more than anything. But you need to talk to me. You need to meet me halfway. You cannot keep these feelings you’re having from me. You can’t keep going to therapy and not talking there either. You need to let me all the way in. No matter how ugly the bottom of your soul is...you need to let me meet that part of you .” Sam’s voice trailed off and then she rubbed over the front of his chest, feeling his heart pounding like it was trying to jump right out of it. They let the silence fall over them, Jake trying to figure out exactly how to accomplish that without scaring her away. He couldn’t ever be without her again.

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

Tyler sat quietly on the couch, Grits on the back as usual, and Jaycen sleeping soundly in his arms. He glanced down at Georgia, her head against his shoulder, her breath coming out leisurely. Pancake was laid across her lap, her arm over the dog’s back, and Waffles was on the arm next to Tyler, her snout as close as she could get to the little boy without disturbing him. 

“I already miss them.” Tyler murmured, taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly, shakily.

“Me too. But we have this wonderful little boy to help keep us busy. Until the next time that they come back.” She said softly, rubbing Pancake’s shoulders. The dog sighed and furrowed her brows at Georgia, which made her smile. 

“Yeah. You’re right. And some other stuff to keep us busy too. Found a truck for Kate. We just gotta go look at it, make sure it’s okay.” He said, tilting his head as Jaycen shifted in his arms but did not wake.

“That’s good. She can stop trying to crash yours and Boone’s.” She said, which made a chuckle rumble up from Tyler’s chest.

“Yeah exactly. And we’ll plan a day to go look at a truck for you. I promise. I’m glad you got rid of the Denali though. I was afraid of you towing with it.” 

“When am I gonna be towing?” She asked, shifting against him so that she was slightly closer and Pancake did the same.

“Don’t know. Figured you might wanna take Tulsa to a couple places while you’re not pregnant.”

“Well...you mean before my belly gets big again.” She smirked.

“What?” Tyler shot a sly smile at her.

“I took a test this morning. I’m pregnant again, Ty.” Her lips turned up into a wide grin and Tyler carefully turned so that he could kiss her.

“Oh fuck. I’m gonna cry, darlin’.” His voice became a whisper.

“Well you had a hand in it, silly.”

“I know but you’re the one who’s doing all the work. I’m just the...well...y’know.”

“The very handsome stud?” Georgia raised a brow and smirked. Tyler's lips turned up again, his mouth dropping open.

“Well, darlin’, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. You’re quite the specimen.” She mused, making him chuckle and shake his head. His chest filled with warmth as he gazed at his beautiful wife and then down at his adorable son. He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped, wanting to enjoy the happiness that was overflowing in the air, within their little family of two legged and four legged creatures.

[randomfoggytiger]

in reading the anons idea that Diana didn't pose much of a threat, I started to review my initial assessment of her.

While I agree that we are not seen a lot of Diana on screen, I think her threat is of the unknown. It's almost like not knowing your spouse's exes but still having a sting because you get all the crazy "what-ifs" running through your head: what if I am not as interesting, what if they were funnier, what if my spouse is not with the other because they were dumped and still have feelings, what if. What if. What if. I think that is her threat and for a moment we see the what if. If Scully had not called Mulder to go find Cassandra, Mulder would have gone with Diana and then what? Then, there is Mulder's dream of "what if" he had a life with Diana. I m a little fuzzy with the why he dreamt of her. Was she or CSM controlling the dream or was it Mulder's own dream? These what ifs for me are what make her a threat.

I wanted more of a resolution with scenes like when Gibson says that Mulder is thinking about one of the girls and one of the girls was thinking about him. Maybe I am weird and it's an unpopular opinion, but showing Mulder and Scully have some (just some) real conversations to resolve that "what if" would have been enticing. We somewhat see Scully's emotions especially when she goes to TLG.

Last note: the scene in which Scully is trying to give Mulder some results on Gibson and Mulder refuses to take it and says " are you asking me to choose" and Scully says "I'm asking you to trust my judgement" deserved Scully turning her back on him and walking out. There was a missed chance of some good tension that could be nicely resolved, but NO she let's Mulder off the hook too easily. Why? Did we ever see Mulder really have to worry about Scully having enough of him and walking away just for herself? Other than being abducted or dying of cancer, he didn't worry that she would leave.

The dream, as far as i'm aware via the scripts, was meant to come from Mulder's head; but it had to have been influenced a bit by reality-- CSM and Diana's presence pop up here and there when the two are right next to him, for example. Mulder, in essence, felt "doomed" to live this normal life, felt he should be happy he finally got a normal life... but knew, deep-down, that it was a hollow, shallow, selfish, cowardly existence. When Scully's presence nearby drew her into his subconscious, he dreamed about her acting as his moral voice: "Get up and fight." The life he has with her, he realized, is worth the danger that she chooses to place herself in-- he can't martyr his freedom to secure her safety. They are each other's touchstones.

Diana definitely disguises her motivations to Mulder, appearing upfront and honest and as boots-on-the-ground-to-find-the-truth as he is. That would have been a particularly juicy bit of character work to mine into; but, alas, she only shows up here or there, and is barely mentioned (once) outside of mytharc episodes. My favorite bits of character work were her manipulation in The End and her conversations with CSM in Amor Fati-- wish we'd had more.

The scene in The Beginning is a bit more... complicated. I don't believe it should have resolved with Scully walking away from Mulder: it was a follow-up to Scully not trusting him in front of the FBI board, despite their five year partnership's trust and her own experiences in Antarctica. She could have stalled for time, could have thrown up solidarity even if the proof wasn't in her hands right then... but she didn't; because she wasn't ready to wholly accept the truth-- not until her experience in Africa, almost a year later. Mulder felt betrayed-- and he wasn't completely wrong, but also not completely right-- and his feelings were partially justified when Scully did find the evidence at the end when it no longer mattered. She didn't apologize for not backing his theory up; and he didn't apologize for not trusting her new set of answers. Both were in the wrong, to varying though comparable degrees; and both decided to wordlessly move on rather than address the problem. (That problem, by the way, is brought up and finally addressed in Field Trip.) That's why Season 6 is less intense than previous seasons: they jockey back-and-forth from being in the wrong to smoothly sailing over each fumble to grappling onto the next case or piece of evidence.

@agent-troi's Season 6 observations here really hits the nail on the head: "...in some ways they’re more joined at the hip than ever before. . this season has the highest concentration of shippy episodes.... the only times they really don’t get along are when diana actually appears in the episode (side note: diana only gets mentioned once in the episodes in which she doesn’t appear, a fact which intrigues me to no end. it’s like when she’s not there she doesn’t even exist, and in fact i have actually forgotten she existed while watching some of these episodes lol). ...i think their schism in the beginning is partly due to mulder being petulant because scully couldn’t/wouldn’t back him up at the opr hearing after he put himself way out there earnestly insisting with his whole chest she was about to present proof of alien life. it’s not that he suddenly doesn’t trust her anymore, he just feels (somewhat irrationally) like he was let down. ...but in the very next episode (drive) they’re a team again, using his intuition combined with her science to figure out what’s going on with crump. the fact that they couldn’t save him wasn’t their fault, and is almost incidental to what this episode really illustrates, which is not only how well they work together, but that they still can work together, and the past five years between them haven’t been erased just because diana’s back in town. ...i think people sometimes overestimate the impact diana had on their relationship. i think she was definitely a catalyst for them to examine some of their feelings more closely, but she was never gonna drive a permanent wedge between them. the closest she came was in one son, and even then they manage to pull back from the brink of destruction. scully asks for mulder’s trust, and he gives it by going to look for proof that diana really has betrayed him. if it had been the other way around, if diana had accused scully of working for the syndicate, he would have dismissed the idea immediately and never even bothered to consider it...." The entire post is mandatory reading, in my opinion. XDDDD

Also! There are many, many incredible Diana metas out there-- a few of which are @scullysflannel's thoughts here, @agent-troi and @actual-changling and @waxworkdaughter and my collaborative thoughts here-- and follow-up, with @baronessblixen's input, here; @deathsbestgirl's thoughts here; @limnsaber's tags here; @iconicscullyoutfits's thoughts here); and @welsharcher's deleted scene proving Diana's a one-trick pony here. I've also tried my hand at a few posts (here, here, here, here, and here), including a musical edit here, heheheh.

Thank you for your patience if you read this far, anon. XDDDD Thoroughly enjoyed pouring over your thoughts-- thanks again for sharing!

[aromanticasterisms]

this whole epilogue is just a little treat for me oh my god. "familiar faces arrive in simulanka" does not even begin to cover it

[screechingfromthevoid]

So I was thinking about that modern AU, trying to figure out how to incorporate FCG because robot (literally he's just a pastors son. Duh)

but for some reason my brain said "Ashton's service dog" first. Then I thought about Ashton needing a service dog because of brain stuff. THEN I thought about Ashton needing a service animal AND a mobility aid.

So I'm just living for Ashton in a wheelchair rolling through school. They've got the key to the elevator. They've obviously got a whole dog at school that people try desperately not to pet.

When someone decides to bully FCG (Francis Charles Grady) or Laudna, they get out of their chair to their full height. People freak because they didn't know he could walk or stand. Ashton just shrugs because "you know what they say about assuming"

And when Dorian shows up and asks about it not as tactfully as he probably meant to Ashton pops a wheely and is just like "what's sadder than an orphan with a wheelchair and a service dog? Unfortunately it didn't get me adopted. People just don't want their inspiration porn in house anymore I guess."

And they try to be chill. They try to avoid those harsh topics with their friends because they don't wanna be a bummer. It'd bring down the mood to say "sure I can walk but sometimes my spine is on fire and my calves are full of knives so I don't." It'd suck to say "I can walk fine until I can't." It's not relatable to say "my whole body hurts all the time and if I want to be able to do other things like think, I should probably be sitting."

Slowly their friends get them to understand that they don't have to put on a brave face for them. They don't have to pretend like it doesn't hurt. They don't have to pretend like it doesn't bother them. Their friends care about them. Hell they're even down to help if they can. Anything to make Ashton feel like they are wanted, that they're not a burden.

[babeygirlbuckley]

kinda tired of all these parent redemption arcs tbh. give chimney a gun

[petrichorium]

Making this it’s own post bc I rlly have thought abt it so much Kuroo’s dad has a beard and he tries to emulate it in college but when it comes in patchy and bad he shaves it off but does the classic “can’t grow a beard but here’s this stupid mustache” for like two years until he starts actually working and realizes how dumb it makes him look so he shaves it too

[deeisace]

aw damn it

[screampied]

You know what's hot? Missionary with Geto and he needs to get a better angle so he reaches down and pulls your knee up over his hip!!

☆ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, missionary, praise, size kinks, p spanking, bręeding, manhandling, mdni.

geto’s voice was deep but his strokes was even deeper.

you’re trying your hardest not to choke on each gargled whimper and whine that desperately clogs near the back of your throat. he’s got you underneath him as both naturally polished bodies rutted against each other in sync. “mng- you always know how ‘ta fit me, baby,” he groans, feeling the whetted edges of your nails creating a clawing path down his back. he’s inside you fully, steadying his rickety hips as he’s pounding into your precious, precious cunt. you’re moaning at each fervid hit - slam, after slam, after slam, and geto could already feel your ankles rubbing down his torso. “hah- always such a pretty nice fit, can’t neglect this . . sweet spot, mmh- noope.”

“f- fuck, suguruuu,” your shaky babbles sob away from your lips, flickering your eyes back at each clashing smack of his snapping hips. geto has such ruthless vigor too. his body grinds into yours as the tense muscles that lived in his back sexily flexed at his strenuous thrusts. geto hums, peering as your palms suddenly cover your face.

“mhm- don’t hide, i wanna see my girl,” he huskily prowls, grabbing your wrists while still unapologetically churning through your convulsing insides. geto’s enormous stretch makes itself known to your pussy constantly. “her too- actuallyyy,” and you moaned, feeling geto’s slender fingers snake their way up your thigh. an open hand lifts your jouncing leg, slightly bringing your knee to hook around his hip.

“she’s so wet, think she wants a… hah- different angle. fuuuuck- there we go. atta baby.”

from all sides, geto’s body was crying with sweat, and each of his shoulder blades that flexed continued to accelerate after each powerful hit. geto’s cock was big, forever and always stretching past the gripping tight ring of your entrance that preciously hugged him so tight.

he’s dragging himself in ‘n out, zigzagging his ruby tip through each part of your pussy until it squelched out the syllables of his first and last name. you were just so responsive, and you’re whimpering once he maintains a firm grasp against your bent knee with a single hand.

“fuck- mhm, sugu- ah,” and it only takes a few long seconds before he’s piercing into your sloppy wet core. each time geto’s hips sharply pop forward between your wobbly thighs, you let off cute mewls of the only thing your mind could even register for you to speak out - his name.

he’s just riiiight there, massaging the pearl of your clit with his tip until your brain loses a few screws. “mngh-” you’d whine, your sounds growing a bit muffled.

“keep this pretty knee up for me,” geto whispers, clouds of hitched hot breath falling against your skin. geto’s body sloppily presses itself into you, skipping sleazy fingertips up the slope of your thigh.

the angle gets even deeper… and with just the perfect amount of degree of his hips arching further, geto could hear his weighty base slopping loudly inside after every sticky pap. the crown of your knee remains bent and geto then makes your entire leg wrap around his slim torso.

“mmph-” he’d prevent a guttural grunt from parting way from his raspy lungs. the bed repeatedly roared countless of times with creaks that sounded like it was in utter, distress.

the bed base was poorly aged, nagging the more geto’s rugged hips drove into your famished cunt. your body’s arch was so pretty, and the upturned tip of his nose abruptly buried into your shoulder. as you’re whimpering until your chords grow raw, geto snickers once he felt your weak legs gradually starting to flop down. “hah- ‘m even holding your leg ‘n you’re still sooo damn… lazy.”

“s- suguru,” you’d moan out his name, trying to count each wet thrust in your head. it’s so loud that each slap! of fleshy wet skin rings through each of your twitching ears.

another thing that twitched though, was your cunt.

geto aligns his bulbous tip against the drooling entrance of your clit before smearing it all around with kisses. he’s so precise, rocking into your body while digging his fingertips into your feverish flesh. “ ‘m gonna fuckin’ -ah, cum.”

geto groans, his tone shifting to sound more sonorous with the dangerous pitch, and that’s when he sneaks an open palm between your thighs. miles and miles of your juices tear down the cracked arc of your legs, and he starts to smear it all up before his hand re-locates it’s way back toward your sopping pussy.

oh, you were just leaking like a faucet, and it seemed like after he lifted your leg for a better angle, you were even wetter than you were before.

“haah- me too, ‘m so close, sweet thing. fuck, she’s bein’ a bit mean today.. isn’t that right?” he hoarsely mutters, giving the center part of your entrance a nice, wet whack.

a bit of your slick splatters across his palm and geto hums, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick the treacly mess. “mhm, she just can’t help but be so damn wet it seems. tryin’ s- so hard to drown me, huh.”

geto’s buried balls deep, six feet under at most, like a coffin.

your eyes were already shamefully bulging out of their enlarged sockets as your jaw hung agape. “u- ugh,” you’d claw a hand down his back, feeling your teeth shatter at the brief hot pangs of skin against skin. he’s making sure to tap his swollen head against that tender nub of yours, rendering you speechless.

you nearly blind yourself with your own eyes, the constant hysterical flapping of each lash making you whimper. soooo deep -

the force of geto’s stuttering hips had such a rhythm that your entire body felt the shock of his thrusts. a dewy tear of sweat dribbles down your curved spine and you’re just wailing for him to keep hitting that same spot.

“f.. fuck,” geto grunts, sliding a hand near your hip. each swallowing second he spends inside you, he could feel you clenching all around him. his tip’s an angry beat red, and he’s taking his cautious time to shower your needy clit with a plethora of kisses. “ ‘m cummin, baby. keep this knee back, let’s give you another . . hah- good fillin.’”

both build of orgasms were just as intense, so much so that it almost felt dreamlike..

he’s pulling his hips back and forth, putting his mouth over yours to playfully suck in your shallow breaths. the dripping tip of geto’s tongue slips into your mouth, and he could feel each muscle in his thighs squeeeeeze with longing anticipation.

“s- sugu!” you’d squeal, whining as your slick tongue ends up tangling with his. your heart’s never raced more quickly, and he’s starting to nibble on your upper, quickening lip while darkened eyes slowly look up at you.

once geto cums, it’s a thick batch - it’s creamy, flooding into you with such quickness that you’re left not only wordless but breathless too.

his cock’s blushing tip was oh-so-tender, reddening each time it batters its way inside of your creaming pussy. every concluding slosh that exited from between your thighs had you gasping for air like a fish out of water, and you were shivering once your release arrived at the same time as his..

as his heavy thighs merely crushed against your hot skin, geto felt your entire body that lay underneath him grow limp. black overgrown tresses glued against his forehead as a bubbly, white ring started to form around his milked-out base.

geto shields a grunt into your neck, feeling his parched seed ooze out of your puffed cunt. it’s so filthy that it even starts trickling its way down the valley of your pried pretty thighs.

“mhm- good girl,” and he’s just casually talking over your inaudible whimpers, bringing a thumb toward your spit-glossed lips. you’re still shaking, gnawing at the bars of your enclosure before he licks the bottom of your poked-out lip. “shhh- atta girl, i know. riiiide it out baby, there we fuckin’ go.”

geto collapses onto your chest, all limp sticking against each other like paste as you’re both covered in such slimy messes before you heave in a single breath. “s- suguru, mng-”

“yeah, sweet girl. my thoughts exactly,” he phews jokingly, trying to get over his orgasmic high as he’s still pumping a never-ending load of cum inside of you. geto kisses the top of your head before his hands leisurely push your knees up toward your chest. “heyy,” he breathlessly coos, watching as you let off a bundle of more sweet, defeated whines. “think you can go a little deeper?”

and you moaned, feeling geto’s chiseled pecs gently slump against your chest. with your knees up toward your jiggling breasts, he gives your runny pussy one final soft spank.

“hah- lets see if these weak legs can handle a good mating press, hm, big girl?”

[icantalk710]

📱😪

[wriokitty]

“Did you know—”

“I don’t care,” Sukuna interrupts, wholly disinterested. It’s half past three—(which is, of course, his fault, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less tired).

But you, wholly uncaring, promptly ignore him. “—That some female spiders eat the male ones after mating?”

“What do you want me to do with this information?” He looks at you irritably, glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. You flash him a grin—it’s a mischievous little thing, your lips curled in a cheeky, flirty way that warns him silently that he’s about to risk popping another vein. He seems to do that around you quite often, and it certainly feels like it’s underway once more.

(And, as it always is, his intuition would be right).

“It’s a warning,” you hum.

He snorts, raising a clearly disbelieving brow as he hums, “oh yeah? For what? Are you gonna—wha-hey!”

Not a lot catches Sukuna off guard. You giggle as he barks out a surprised yelp of your name, harshly shoving you away from his chest. There’s a nice, fresh, very crystal and very clear outline of your teeth marked right on the flesh surrounding his nipple.

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks incredulously.

You let out a soft, amused little giggle that sounds through the room before he feels your weight shift and fall onto him, making him grunt as his arms steady you and his eyes stare up at your hovering face with an agitated purse of his lips.

“I’m eating you,” you say cheekily, “see?” For emphasis, you leave an equally as shocking bite to his bicep, your head leaning down to get a mouthful of his bare arm. He lets out a low, startled grunt before one large and very firm hand grabs the back of your neck and yanks you off.

“Have you completely lost it?” He hisses.

“We just mated—”

“Who on Earth talks about sex like that? We are not animals who—”

“—And now I’m going to eat you after mating. Like a female spider.”

“If you’re going to be weird, just go the fuck to sleep,” he grumbles lowly.

Sukuna is tired.

(And yes, the reason is partly because he’s a bit inexhaustible once he’s felt the velvet heat of your walls, and yes, it’s technically his own greediness that’s worn him out so physically for the night. But that’s all been the cost for something of greater benefit to him. Something he doesn’t exactly mind draining his energy for.

Bur your odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird schemes are not a part of the list of things he’s willing to sacrifice his energy for. There isn’t much pleasure in entertaining your nonsense most of the time.

If anything, there’s pain—the stinging bite marks on his skin can attest to that.)

“I’m not tired,” you hum.

“Then let me make you tired,” he offers smugly, lips tugging into a cocky grin as he looks up at you.

“If you didn’t manage that the first time, what makes you think that’ll work the second?” You tease.

He doesn’t seem to like that very much, because with a growl, he pushes the back of your neck until your face falls into the crook of his neck, a strong, bulky arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place against his body.

It’d be awfully intimate, and awfully sweet if he didn’t mumble, “I love when you sleep because it’s the only few hours of the day I get to hear you shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe if you’d just appreciated my fun fact—”

“You bit my fucking nipple.”

“I could bite the other one, too, if you want,” you pipe up with an excited grin. He can feel it pressed against his skin as your face buries deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Sukuna is tired. Most of the time, it’s because of you. All of the time, he chooses to allow it because he likes having you around for a good fuck.

(And, of course, there’s all that bullshit about love and affection, too. But that’s just that odd stuff you like to babble about—that odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird emotional part of you that somehow ropes him into being the same way every once in a while.

He doesn’t like it.)

“You need a lobotomy,” he mutters, wincing when you bite the skin of his neck in response. Not in a manner he likes, either—very much in a manner that makes sure he feels the sharpness of your incisors.

“Don’t be rude,” you scold, “I’m biologically meant to be your predator.”

“You biologically give me fuckin’ migraines.”

You grin—it’s a smile that’s easy. Smooth. Maybe a little giddy, too. It comes out only around Sukuna. Him and his gruff, rugged way of accepting your affection, and his double as rough and crude way of giving it back. His callused hands and toughened knuckles that brush along your cheeks carefully. His crass and undignified words that are carefully thought out enough to never cross the line. His downturned lips and narrowed eyes that only ever soften at the sharp corners around you.

“Next time, I’ll eat you for sure,” you murmur, settling against his chest and getting comfortable. He wraps both arms around you, warm and tight enough that you almost think you can forgo the blanket altogether. “Assert my dominance.”

“You can’t even open the pickle jar.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s only a matter of time until natural selection gets you,” he snickers quietly. You huff, biting back a smile as he yawns.

Gently, with a kiss over the bite mark you left against his neck, you say softly, “goodnight. Love you.”

“Night.”

“I love you.”

“For the love of—love you too, holy fuck. Go to sleep.”

[kavehayati]

“But my luck is so horrible so I had to pull thirty times just to get him” GIRL thirty pulls is actually nothing wdym 😭 me with 65 pulls until I got my first kaveh is crazier ☠️

[bi-writes]

Okay but MOB sitting on Simon's lap, cuddling as they watch some movie Simon picked out because it was his turn. At one point she gets up and he thinks she's just going to use the restroom, hands on her hips to help stabilize her. Only instead of leaving, she turns around and sits on her knees between his legs. She bats her eyes at him but otherwise just soaking in how pretty he is. He probably makes a joke, says he loves her and when he still doesn't move figures she just wants a moment and continues to watch the screen.

When she finally works herself up to it, she starts sliding her hands up and down his thighs and just the sensation and imagery alone has him hard and he can't bring himself to ask her to stop when it feels so nice. Eventually her hands wander up further and she begins to play with the button of his jeans. Still not stopping her, even as she unbuttons and zips them down to pull out his erection. When he finally looks down, she stops and stares innocently up at him.

As soon as his attention's somewhat back up on the screen, she repositions herself and licks a stripe up his dick to bring his head into her mouth to swirl around. He doesn't even last that long and she doesn't let him pull her off when he comes.

Or something like that...

mail-order bride (18+)

simon likes action movies. they're his favorite, by far. he likes to watch the over-the-top car races in the middle of metropolitan cities, he likes big, stupid explosions and when the protagonist has their enemy at the end of their gun and says something cheesy like "you're not going anywhere now."

he told you once that he likes the simplicity. the happy endings. the key recovered, a family saved, the epic conclusion of an explosive journey that always ends in the bad guy in handcuffs and the good guy on a beach sipping a mai tai, getting the girl, saving the world.

you think maybe he likes it because it dampens reality. you have seen the aftermath of an op gone wrong; in this way, simon can fantasize just a little. he can pretend that there is nothing wrong with the world for 90 minutes or so.

what's so wrong with that?

he's so pretty.

he ran errands for you today. came back from the store with a paper bag in his hands, setting it down on the counter and unpacking it. you were sat at the kitchen counter, the orange cat wrapped up completely in a burrito of a towel so you could cut her dagger-like claws without risk of retaliation. simon was watching carefully out of the corner of his eye, but as he unpacked the bag, you had all but melted in your chair.

a refill of your favorite makeup remover (you were going to run out tonight, guaranteed). vitamins (ya look right sick, baby, drink y'r juice). your favorite brand of pads (just tell me which ones, i'll get it right, promise). sour sweets (cherry-flavored, of course, sour because he likes the face you make when you pop them into your mouth). when the last box hit the counter, you had dropped the cat, much to her relief.

condoms. fucking condoms.

no, he's not pretty. simon is so fucking hot.

he doesn't budge when you get up to put the empty popcorn bowl into the sink. when you come back in the room, simon is still staring at the television, eyes trained on the spy on screen hopping between rooftops as they dodge bullets. you bite your lip watching him, unable to stop thinking about simon, simon, simon.

he's wearing nice jeans. straight jeans, but even the extra give doesn't matter when your husband is made of pure muscle and fat. you can see his stomach through his shirt since it's tucked in, white fabric showing off that nice pudge that you love laying your head on, your palm, knowing how solid and strong he most certainly is. nghghhhh, and his arms--big, bulging, tattooed, a perfect canvas for colorful markers or glitter or maybe your tongue.

it's subconscious, really. the carpet is soft under your knees as you kneel at his feet, lowering yourself so you can blink up at him big and wide as he keeps his eyes on the movie. he does notice you, however; his big hand slides down his thigh, and your eyes flutter a little when he passes it over your head then down your face, a pretty little pet between his legs.

"not supposed to be on y'r knees f'me, baby," simon mutters, but you can't answer because his thumb slips into your mouth. you wrap your lips around it absentmindedly, running your tongue over the thick pad of it. "tha's my job."

you sit up on your knees, leaning over him, and he gives you his attention finally, a twitch of a smile as he bends his neck a little and kisses you warmly. you steady yourself by putting your hands on his thighs, gripping the meat of them firm as you slip your tongue into his mouth and draw a low grunt from deep within his chest.

"always working for me, simon," you whisper between kisses. "always..."

fuck, the blood rushes to his cock almost immediately. he has such a soft spot for you. taking care of you, doing things for you, buying you what you need--it makes him so fucking hard thinking about fulfilling every need of yours. you deserve nothing but nice dreams, good meals, happy cats, a well-loved pussy, all the love his broken heart can give. he chubs up in his pants every time you ask him for something.

can you carry this for me, simon?

oh, i need some help with this, baby, just here...

can you get me more of this? i'm about to run out.

the zipper is stuck, simon...can you get me out of this?

ugh, you're his walking wet dream. and you're kneeling in between his legs, his sweet girl pouting up at him, and--oh, fuck--

your hands are soft under his shirt. you've untucked it just enough, your warm fingers sliding along the band of his jeans. he hisses a little, his body stiffening, and you smooth a thumb over his belt before kissing him again.

"you're so pretty, simon," you whisper, and he licks over your bottom lip in response, drawing a soft whine out of you. his thighs widen just a little when he hears the clink of his belt, feeling the waistband loosen as you draw it out from the loops and toss it onto the carpet behind you. "such a handsome man you are..."

"come off it," simon growls a little, and you giggle, freeing the button and slipping your hand down. his mouth falls open in a silent moan as you cup him with a hot hand, fingers sliding under his length to fondle his balls.

"mmm..." you follow his sputtering mouth, breathing him in. "actually, simon...i really, really wanna get on it..."

"wot a brat," simon murmurs, clicking his tongue. "can't be fuckin' patient--ahh!"

you pull him out of his jeans with a firm tug before sticking your tongue out and kneeling back down to lick a curious stripe up the underside of him. simon is pulsing, radiating heat and already leaking beads of stringy pre-cum, and as you suck the tip of him into your mouth, you realize just how thick your husband really is.

you've never seen him quite this naked, quite this up close. when he fucked your thighs, he had felt big, but his cock is truly making a space for itself in your mouth--

"ah!" you gasp as he fists your hair and pulls you off, leaning down to kiss you hard.

"baby--"

"i want it--" you whimper, using your hands, letting the spit from your mouth drip down his cock as your fingers spread it wide, pumping him softly. "simon, please! please! you always say...always say i can have whatever i want, please..."

when he lets your hair go, you dive. you suck him into your mouth, practically purring as you press him back into the couch and suck. he tastes like a man should, like a husband should, musk and a little sweat and just enough soap to have you a little light-headed. with the first bob of your head, simon shudders, a big hand cupping the back of your neck as he drops his chin to his chest to watch you. he uses his other hand to push your hair back, his mouth falling open a little as he watches your eyes roll back in your head as you try to fit more of him into your mouth.

your mouth squelches with every bob. spit gathers around the edges of your mouth, little globs dripping out as you slurp and flick your tongue over every vein and soft patch of skin. you're making a mess of him, all soft mouth and wiggly tongue and gentle moans that make him seize up.

it's not even a minute of your soft sucking, and simon is caught off guard by his own release. he wants to apologize, but you look so fucking pretty, coughing a little around his wet cock.

you don't stop then either.

some of it drips down around your hands, his own cum webbing between your fingers and getting onto the front of your shirt and staining his jeans, but you keep your mouth on him. you nuzzle the head of his cock against the inside of your cheek, pull off just enough to suck so softly on the tip of him.

"baby, fuck--" simon chokes, watching you through lidded, hazy eyes. "please, fuck--"

"i want it," you whisper, smoothing a wet hand down his length. he's getting hard all over again, and he nearly cums a second time when you let your eyes find his and pepper kisses from the tip of him all the way to the base. "don't i get w-whatever i want, simon? c-can't i...can't i have more?"

simon chuckles a little. he uses his thumb to swipe a glob of cum off your chin, bringing it up to his own mouth to suck off with a snort.

"you want more, baby?" simon asks, and you sit back up on your knees, pressing your forehead to his as he eyes your lips. they're a tad swollen, kiss-bitten and wet. "wot more do ya want, hmm? wot is it my wife wants so much, huh?"

you smile, wide, those big eyes sparkling. you give him another slow stroke with your hand, and he hisses, gritting his teeth as he watches your smile get just that much bigger.

"i want you to stop playing games with me, simon," you say softly. "you'll never win. so just give me what i deserve."

"wot you deserve?"

"don't i deserve you, simon?" you ask, and when he fails to answer, you swipe your thumb over his cock, drawing a cracked groan out of him. "you won't make me beg, will you, simon?"

"no," simon pants, leaning further into you, pressing his face to yours. "never. my wife doesn't beg for anythin'."

"you promise, simon?"

"my wife gets woteva she fuckin' asks for. olways."

[onceinablueberrymoon]

intentionally by chance | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 is up! scenario: a month after seeing the salesman on his way to the airport, gi-hun returns to that subway station every day, hoping to find the salesman and confront him. this is where you come in. setting: takes place after the events of season 1, but before gi-hun hires the loan shark group to search for the salesman warnings: deception; pregnant!reader; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 1.3k notes: salesman fluff! ♡ this guy’s been plaguing my thoughts for weeks now, so i had to write about him. my first fic in years! i like to think that S1 salesman is more chill than in S2. please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“Excuse me… Can you please help me?”

The red-haired man, who was perusing the endless options of cup ramyeon, turned in your direction, but remained planted a few feet away from you. 

“Me?” He pointed at himself.

You nodded, adjusting the items you were holding in your arms. “Can you grab me that cup of ramyeon from the shelf? I’d get it, but my hands are full…” 

The man walked over and retrieved your cup of ramyeon. As he handed it to you, he noticed your pronounced bump under your sweater and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Miss, you’re in no condition to be carrying so much. Please, let me help you bring it to the checkout.”

With your approval, he unloaded the rest of your snacks into his arms. The two of you walked to the register, where you insisted on paying for his own cup of ramyeon. You suggested eating the ramyeon at one of the tables outside the subway station’s convenience store, but he insisted on sitting on a bench on the subway platform. 

“Is there a particular reason you wanted to eat here? It’s not the most ideal dining spot…” You slurped your noodles happily. The man ate slowly, popping his head up every so often and eyeing his surroundings carefully. 

“I’m… looking for something. Nothing you should worry yourself with,” he continued to eat his food while you gave him a skeptical look.

“Perhaps I could help? Well, as long as I don’t have to move very much,” you chuckled, patting your stomach. He gave you a soft smile before changing the topic. 

“Shouldn’t your husband be buying you food instead of you coming to get it yourself?” He gestured to your bag of snacks, and you giggled.

“My husband buys me all the food I want, but sometimes I just want to get out of the house! It’s no fun being cooped up all day,” you sighed. The man nodded in understanding. 

“It’s also nice to talk to other people, like you,” you smiled at him. He returned your smile, but then his eyebrows shot up when a sharp smack echoed throughout the platform. 

The man jumped up, his cup ramyeon forgotten on the bench. You turned to see where the noise had come from, only to find a group of students huddled around another student who had dropped their textbooks on the ground. From what you could hear, it seemed like they were holding them for a friend but couldn’t handle the weight.

The red-haired man froze for a few seconds, then sat back down, heaving a big sigh. 

“Are you alright, sir? There’s nothing to worry about – it was just some books that fell.” You tried to comfort the man in some way, but he brushed the incident off. 

“I’m fine. It just… reminded me of something,” he tried his best to give you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t convince you. “Don’t worry about me. Please eat,” he gestured to your unfinished ramyeon, “you need strength for your baby.”

The rest of your time together was pleasant, but you were still not convinced that the man’s reaction was nothing. You both finished your noodles, disposing the packaging and your utensils before parting ways. 

Once you returned home, you put the remaining snacks away and settled on the sofa. There were still a few hours before your husband was due home. You got yourself comfortable, curled up under a blanket, and drifted off to sleep.

“Rough day?”

You cracked open your eyes. All you could see was a blurry grey shape, but you already knew who it was. 

Blinking your eyes a few times, your husband’s handsome face came into focus, with his usually crisp grey suit looking a bit creased. His usual smirk graced his face as he looked down at you on the sofa.

“I should be asking you that. What happened to your suit?” You sat up and he sat down next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“One prospective player became violent when he lost at ddakji for the 20th time in a row. Of course, I was able to subdue him, but it took more effort than usual,” your husband tried to press down a crease on his sleeve, but to no avail. He rested a hand on your rounded belly, gently rubbing circles with his fingers.

“How was today? I trust you succeeded in your mission?” 

You scoffed, “He was exactly where you said he’d be. I was able to have a conversation with him. We even ate ramyeon together for lunch!” 

Your husband turned to face you, an eyebrow raised. “You ate ramyeon together?” He gave a small pout, “I thought I was the only one you ate ramyeon with.”

Immediately, your face flustered as you explained yourself, “Hey, you know that I would never cheat!” Then, you scoffed, “We ate cup ramyeon, alright? Not whatever fantasy you’re imagining in that head of yours.” He laughed, pecking you on the cheek.

“Oh, but I have some exciting news,” you said with a sparkle in your eyes. “He’s still looking for you. And he’s basically gone mad trying to find you.” This caught your husband’s attention.

“While we were eating, there was a loud noise. Turned out that a kid dropped their books. But Gi-hun didn’t know that. He shot up so fast I swear I thought he was possessed!” 

Your husband seemed to take in your findings carefully, continuing his circles on your bump as if they helped him focus. 

“He wouldn’t tell me what he was looking for, but he specifically wanted us to sit on the subway platform, so I think it’s safe to say he’s searching for you.” Your husband had previously informed you that he had spotted a player he had already recruited at the Incheon Airport subway station, albeit with flaming red hair. After talking with the Frontman, he confirmed that Seong Gi-hun was indeed the winner of the 33rd edition of the Games. 

Once you shared the rest of your intel with your husband, you let out a big sigh. 

“Should I meet with Gi-hun again? It’d be useful to know his location and I could maybe gather more info,” you looked at your husband who had since sat up, but he didn’t take his hand off your bump. 

He pondered your question for a moment. “While I would benefit from knowing his whereabouts, I’m more afraid of something happening to you,” his voice sounded strained. “I wouldn’t be there to protect you and our child.” 

You leaned onto his shoulder, resting a hand on top of his on your belly. “We’ll be fine. If anything, Gi-hun was also concerned for me because of the baby,” you winked. “Maybe they’re the key to earning his trust.” 

Your husband’s lips tightened into a straight line. While he wasn’t happy that you would spend time with someone who clearly despised him, you were right — your pregnancy would lower Gi-hun’s defenses. You knew how much your husband’s schedule was impacted by Gi-hun’s constant presence on the AREX subway line. It would greatly help your husband if you could keep Gi-hun at one station while he recruited prospective players for the Games. 

Your husband kissed the crown of your head and stood up, attempting once again to smooth out the crease on his sleeve. “We’ll see. I’ll talk to the Frontman to see if we can get you any additional protection. I still don’t like the idea of you being around Gi-hun alone. If he learns of our relationship, I imagine he will use you as ransom,” he clicks his tongue, “We can’t have that now, can we?” 

You shook your head and stood up next to your husband. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“For now, continue researching prospective players. I’m almost done with your last batch,” he flashed his signature smirk, which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

“On it. Rumour has it that Tapgol Park has an abundance of people down on their luck…”