#'you don't need a full face just five products-'

[bogkeep]

every time i read an autobiographical comic about a transfeminine person practicing putting on makeup as a visual metaphor for the difficulty of Performing Womanhood i can feel my whole heart vibrate with sympathy. like. one of the absolutely most common Girl Experiences is feeling like you're never girling right or enough. there's so many rules and expectations and there's fucking makeup. i could never wrap my head around makeup!! not even for gender reasons, it's just this whole culture i don't understand. trying to grasp makeup feels like being a street urchin at an extremely exclusive high end restaurant crying because i don't know what fork to use and they won't let me eat with my hands. my seventh grade classmates tried to help me be girl by taking me shopping for nice clothes and mascara and i couldn't even wear it for a week. not only do you have to go through the intricate rituals of application but you have to remove it at the end of the day??? and everyone acts as if this arcane knowledge is something inherent to girlhood that you're just born knowing and feel naturally inclined to do??? i don't understand!!! i don't understand!!!!! people treated me as if i was being rebellious and making a statement but i just do not understand all the powders and inks and pencils and gunks and creams and brushes!! they feel bad against my face and i'll flinch from anything getting too close to my eyes. it doesn't matter how many offers for help i get or how many tutorials there are, i never wanted this for myself! i shouldn't have to do this! i can be a person without it just fine if you let me!

watching anyone trying to learn how to do makeup from scratch is like watching someone learning a new language. if you think it's hard it's because it is hard and don't let them tell you it's not, just because they've been speaking it for a long time

[suncoved]

HANDS OF AN ANGEL ! — RAFE CAMERON (18+ smut mdni)

in which, washing rafe's hair didn't go as you planned.

you looked up slowly from your book to the sound of your bedroom door opening roughly, rafe trudging in lethargically. your eyes followed him around the room as he threw off his clothes one by one, a trail of fabric following him until he was just left in his boxers.

you rolled your eyes at his unnecessary messiness and let your eyes travel back down to the off-white pages of your book.

you could only read about three words before rafe huffed rather dramatically across the room.

you ignored his annoying sighs and groans until it was physically impossible to not pay attention to him, slamming your book closed and looking at him from the bed.

"what is it rafey?" you asked sweetly, even though you knew what he was gonna ask. "shower" he said simply, nudging his head towards the bathroom from where he stood right outside it. "can't baby, i already put all my lotions and oils and stuff, you're gonna have to have one without me" you answered, watching his face turned into that of a five-year-olds if they were just told they couldn't go to disneyland that day.

"ok" he huffed, turning around and entering the bathroom, but leaving the door open so you could see everything. you giggled softly, turning your attention back to the book in your hands.

you only perked up when you heard the tap of the bath turn on, not the shower. rafe was having a bath?

if there was one thing you had to know about rafe cameron, is that he hated baths, more than an average human being did. he only tolerated them because he could feel you up more in the bath than in the shower because of the close proximity.

but he always took a shower after because he doesn't like 'bathing in his own filth for half and hour'

you itched to get up and hop in the bath with him, but that's what he wanted, because why else would he torture himself like that?

after about 5 minutes of reading the same line over and over again, you untangled yourself from your bedsheets and made your way over to your vanity. reaching your hand into the brown paper shopping bag, you pulled out bottles of shampoo, conditioner, hair masks and hair oils, making your way over to the bathroom with an arm full of hair products.

he heard you from a mile away, staring straight at you as you walked into his trap. "got you baby" he said, hinting at the fact that he was having a bath, for you.

"nope" you said, padding your way over to the bathtub. he looked at you quizzically at the new products you had with you.

you were glad that even though he was very very naked, there were mounds of bubbles covering him, his face and shoulders the only thing showing above the water. because after you spent nearly an hour after your shower rubbing oils and creams over your skin, you really didn't want to end up in the bath with rafe

"what've you got there bug?" he asked as you dragged your soft bathmat to the edge of the bathtub so you could have something to kneel on, placing the products softly on the floor.

"gonna wash your hair rafe" you state, reaching over and running your hand softly through his wet hair. "yeah?" he asked, tilting his head softly in admiration. "i went out and got some stuff for your hair type, not that you need any help with your hair at all! i just wanna do stuff for you like you do stuff for me." you quickly got quieter by the end of your sentence, avoiding eye contact with him.

"c'mere baby" he whispers, matching your soft tone. you hesitantly look at him, biting your lip nervously. your chin felt wet as he gripped it softly, bringing your lips to touch his as he kissed you. he pulled back first, resting his forehead on yours as he looked at you. "thank you, baby. i don't do the stuff i do for you to get repaid, but i love that you think of me"

you beam at his words, leaning down again and placing one last peck on his lips.

you pull up the sleeves of your long-sleeved white pyjama shirt before you lean over to squirt a generous amount of shampoo on your palm.

after rubbing your hands together to create a milky white texture in the shampoo, you leaned over the tub. the white acrylic made contact with where your bra wire would be had you been wearing one, oblivious that as you were reaching your arms to rafe's hair your tits were being pushed together, his eyes immediately staring holes into your cleavage.

"your hair is gonna be so soft rafey!" you exclaimed, using your acrylics to massage the shampoo into his scalp, making his eyes roll to the back of his head in pleasure.

you pulled back after sudsing up the liquid, biting your lip in concentration as you placed your hands on the side of his head and lowered his hair in the water.

he looked up to you, your hair hanging over him, your stare so concentrated, and your tits fully in his face.

rafe knows you didn't notice how much harder it was getting to hide his hard-on under the now less soapy water, the combination of you scratching his scalp and your cleavage fully on view making him spiral.

"ok, all done! once you get out, ill-dry it and put some oil on the ends." you voiced after raking the conditioner and leave in treatment through his hair, leaning down to kiss him after he made a come here motion with his fingers.

what you were unaware of though, is that as rafe was deepening the kiss between you two, he was pulling his hands out of the warm water and straight to your chest.

"rafe!" you gasped, pulling back instinctively as his hands made your once white shirt now see-through at your nipples.

"shh baby, c'mere. don't make me ask you again" he groaned, sitting up straighter so he could use his hands to pull your body towards his.

as he began another steamy kiss with you, he traced your nipples through your shirt, making you shiver. "rafe... i don't wanna get all wet" you whined, pulling back for a moment, giving him a chance to latch his mouth onto one of your tits.

"ill help you put more cream on later, now let me fuck that sweet pussy of yours" he rasped, pulling your shirt and shorts off as you came to a stand in front of him.

"can't believe my baby would think that i would let her win and sit out there reading her book. so naive" rafe cooed, his soft mannerisms of holding your hand until you made it safely in the tub being a complete juxtaposition of the nasty words he had uttered before.

you melted in the somehow still-warm water as he sucked at your neck, his hands roaming all around your body until he made it to your core.

"you're lucky we're in the tub bunny, because i'm gonna make you cum so hard you're gonna make a mess" he whispered into your ear, bringing a strong hand up to rest firmly around your neck, and the other now making circles on your clit.

you looked up at him in a daze, you're eyes already glossed over as you laid your head against his chest. due to the confined space, you could already feel his hard length resting below your ass, making you squirm.

he entered one finger into you without warning, making you gasp. "shhh, quit whining. you're alright." rafe commanded, beginning to pump his finger in and out of you. he placed soft kisses on your head, his hand on your throat providing a comforting presence to you somehow.

rafe always made sure that during these times you felt loved and appreciated by him, knowing that your mind had the tendency to roam with thoughts 24/7.

"ready for another baby?" rafe asked, your walls somehow still tight around his finger. your hum in reply earned rafe to tighten his hold around your neck, urging you to use your words.

"yes rafey, please" you replied, snuggling more in his chest and looking up and him with glossy eyes. "ok, are you sure you can take it?" he teased, earning a whine to come from your chapped lips.

he slipped another finger into you, pumping them in and out as you squirmed. "good girl, such a good girl for me" he praised, beginning to pick up speed as you gleamed at his praise.

"g-gonna come rafey" you whined, gasping as he quickly pulled his fingers out of you. you immediately turned your head to look up at him in shock, annoyed that he wouldn't let you come to his reach.

"don't look at me like that brat, you can cum on my cock" he remarked, placing another kiss on your head as you whined once more.

he pulled his hand cock to line up with your entrance, stroking your cheek as he slid into you softly. "shh, your alright sweet girl. i got you" rafe reassured in response to your gasp.

he groaned as he bottomed out inside of you, stalling for a moment to look at your expression before beginning to pump in and out. "shit, most perfect pussy i ever had. taking my whole cock like the perfect girl you are, love you so much" he rambled, his mind in a haze as you squeezed around him.

he began picking up his pace, slamming into you from below as the water rippled from his movements. you were to cock drunk to worry that the water could splash out of the tub, gasping as he brought a finger down to circle your clit.

"rafe" you whined as you tightened around him, signalling to him that the knot in your tummy was about to burst. "i got you baby, milk my cock"

you squeezed your eyes shut as you came around him, hearing his groan echo in your ears as he shot his load inside of you. you rolled your eyes to the back of your head as he worked you through your orgasm, slowing the circling of his fingers as he stroked your hair as whispered in your ear

"so perfect for me baby, so so perfect"

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (pt. 3)

"All of us under one roof? Have you lost the plot?"

Gaz snorts, all of you sitting at the bar. You shake your head. The thought alone makes you dizzy.

"Just me and you is hectic enough."

Gaz stares at Soap. John laughs, sipping his scotch. You think for a moment before taking your shot. Wait a fucking second. You joke about how they have decided to make your flat nothing short of a base, and if they're gonna be at your place more than theirs they should at least pay some of your bills. They freeze. Johnny nearly jumps for joy, grabbing your face and kissing you,

"Smart fuckin girl. 'N' if we're paying 'er bills, might as weel move in aye?"

That is not what you meant.

"Who knows, maybe it'll stop them from trying to drag 'er in the walk-in."

John shrugs. They cannot be entertaining this bullshit.

"Doubt it."

Simon shoots back his glass. There's a pause. They look at each other. Oh my God they are entertaining this bullshit.

"I'll think about it."

Price finishes his drink. They talk like you're not even there. You're horrified. Four men and you. One apartment. Not just any men, them. Maybe this is all some sick joke.

"You can always say no."

Simon kisses you before you hop out his car. You're not sure if you believe that. Your phone buzzed in the middle of the night, it's the group chat. Soap sends a link to a three bedroom flat,

Thoughts?

Three dots pop up.

Ok.

Simon replies. That's the only they blessing needed to move forward.

Hectic does not describe the move-in process, there are arguments on who's furniture gets moved in, who sleeps where, who gets to use which bathroom. Eventually there was a vote held (not that it mattered, John always had final say).

Anything big enough to accommodate the five of you was moved in. There would be a bed rotation, making sure no one slept with Ghost and Soap at the same time (and if everyone got tired of their shit, there's three beds for a reason.) Gaz and Soap shared a bathroom upstairs, you shared the one downstairs with Ghost and Price (this made sure you and Kyle had enough space for both your skincare products.)

You barely wore your own clothes anymore; with a closet full of clothes that were comfy and looked good on you, why bother? All your love languages included physical touch, so at any given moment, someone was touching somebody in the house. Lots of shared showers to "save water". Simon mostly cooks with the occasional help of you or Johnny. Sunday roast meant the kitchen was off limits for everyone except Simon, God help anyone who even tries to step foot in his territory.

Holidays are chaotic, always loud with a lot of drinking. And sex. Your first Christmas together was particularly memorable. Of course everyone got gifts that they treasured, including you. But you didn't know what to get Simon. Of course he was the type to say he didn't want anything but, that wasn't right. He opened his gift from you, he stared at it, said a simple thank you and slid it into his pocket. There's a game of poker being played in the living room after gifts are opened. Simon leaves to the bedroom,

"M tired."

Everyone else says goodnight, too enraptured by the game. While there's an argument about Johnny's shuffling, you walk to the bedroom. There he is, cranking the little handle on the wooden music box you gave him; it played Danny boy, wasn't bigger than the palm of your hand, and had an engraving on the inside lid.

"It's the words on the first hoodie you gave me."

"Mhm. Didn't have to get me anything."

He says, still turning the handle. Avoiding eye contact. You sit next to him.

"Don't know if you know how much you mean to me, promise I'll show you though."

His voice the softest you've ever heard. He tucks the box back into his pocket. A quick kiss to your forehead before walking back to the living room with you. This was one of the many holidays Simon didn't have to spend alone anymore.

[poguehearted77]

Imagine y’all just had the fight of your lives (maybe over his dumb gun or something equally Rafe), but later when you’re lying on opposite sides of the bed, he reaches out and pulls you close and says somthing cute or annoying idk And then, oh my GOD—it’s slow, emotional, and HOT because making up with Rafe would be next-level intense. please i NEEED😫😩

OH MY GOD YES. SOME SWEET RAFE AND EVEN SWEETER MAKE UP SEX AFTER A HUGE FIGHT. NEED IT.

#2 from my drabble game

smut: penetrative sex, some praise, I love you's, unprotected sex

Rafe is in deep shit.

You know that, he knows that-- hell, even your pet beagle, Poppy knew it. For once, she bolted away the moment the front door opened, and your oh-so-handsome, conniving and deceitful boyfriend walked in instead of running towards him.

Rafe is a dead man walking. How ironic would it be if he were to die at your hands with the very same gun he'd promised you he'd gotten rid of.

His body goes rigid when he sees the weapon in your palm. A nervous gulp falls down his throat as he does his best to stand tall. "Where did you get that?" That's what he asks you, he should've never opened his mouth.

You scoff immediately, carelessly angling it around as your upset mannerisms control your arms. "Get it? You mean where did I find it." He doesn't respond which is a wise choice.

"Mr. Montogommery called me earlier, he was looking for you--said you weren't answering your phone. He asked me to leave you a message," You're pacing now, and it made Rafe nervous. You're a little crazy, but so was he. It's why you went so well together.

"Like the good girlfriend I am, I opened your office drawer for a sticky note to leave on your desk, but what did I find? The same gun you told me would never be back in the house, Rafe are you serious?!" Your arms are flailing and he's half-certain he'll catch a stray by the end of the conversation.

He steps towards you with his hands up cautiously, "Baby, give me the gun, and we can talk about this." You snap, "No! Why should I? You don't trust me with it? Why because it's dangerous? Because it could kill you! You're right, Rafe. Why didn't I think of that sooner--oh wait, I did! And you fucking lied to me, Rafe."

Your voice is enraged and bouncing off the ivory-panelled walls of the house but it dies down to a shaky one as tears threaten to spill over the brims of your eyes. "Y/n-" He holds his hand out for you, but you give him the gun instead.

You execute a sharp pivot on the tips of your toes, ready to walk away from him but he finally speaks up and you stop--not turning around, standing still, anticipating. "I'm not getting rid of the gun." It's all he says.

Had you been in the mood, you would've turned around, lounged at him and strangled him, but no, you just kept walking.

Your bedroom is freezing that night, despite it being the middle of summer, and it only gets colder everytime you glance towards Rafe as he gets ready for the bed you begrudgingly shared.

Your expression remains sour, even in your sleep, no matter how far away from your boyfriend you are. There's enough room to fit a full-grown adult between you. The isolation was holding the production of your melatonin hostage, forcing you both to lay awake, backs facing each other but hearts reaching out.

Rafe flips onto his side, staring longingly at the back of your frame. He missed you and you were right in front of him. "Baby," His voice is soft, and the pet name lands on you gently, a testament that your anger has subsided a bit.

You turn over, choosing to lie on your back and face the ceiling. You deem that he's undeserving to see your face at the moment. "I've got another gun in my nightstand." You blamed your miscomprehension on the late hours of the night because surely he did not just say what you think he said.

Rafe can see the way your chest began to rise and fall at a much more shallow pace, he had about five seconds to start explaining before you turned on him. "I told you about my past. I've done some bad things. 'Burying the hatchet' doesn't exist for everyone, and I want to be prepared for anything. When I look at a gun now, it's not a weapon anymore, it's a tool. It's protection."

Your breathing slowed, a little. He takes it as a good sign. "I can't lose you. If something happened to you when I could've prevented it, I'd never forgive myself, and I know you know that." He's right. You did know that. He dedicated his life to you, making sure that you knew that. "I shouldn't have lied about getting rid of it, and I'm sorry."

Your breathing returns to its normal pace. You lay on your side, now facing him. "Fine." Rafe scoots closer to you, a small grin working its way on his lips. "Fine?" You nod, "Yeah, fine. I forgive you, this time, but don't you ever pull some shit like this again or so help me god I will-" He quiets you with a sweet kiss.

Well, it started sweet at least.

Now you're both watching him slide in. Your warm cunt wrapped around his length delightfully. "You're fuckin' perfect, too good f'me." He groans into your ear. His muscular arms cage you in, and you've decided you'd be more than happy to die between them.

Your soft moans bounced off his brawny chest and right back in your face, "Feels so good, Rafe-" Yougaspedp as he picked up the pace, hips rolling into yours for a much deeper angle. Your back arches off the bed slightly as sweat rolls down your back and sticks to the sheets.

It wasn't long before you were both chasing your highs. Rafe always sounded so fucking hot when he was close, his deep groans pitching up to breathless whines when you purposefully clenched around him, threatening him to fill you up unrestrained. Once you came, he pulled out and finished on your heaving stomach, catching your breath.

He doesn't get off of you just yet. He balances himself on one forearm as the other hand comes up to gently move the strands of hair from your face, "I love you," he means it, his eyes say it when his mouth does. "I love you".

[sturniolo04]

TOUCHY M.S.

Bf!Matt x Gf!Fem!Reader

Summary: in which Matt is extremely touchy.

A/N: If you don't like the preadded name in my stories, you can either add your own name or not read it; it's up to you :)

It's not an unknown fact that your boyfriend Matt's love language is physical touch. Any chance he can touch you in any way, he will find a way. Whether it be holding your hand as far as him or even putting his hand in the back pocket of your pants.

Fortunately for me today was one of those days that his physical touch need was on a max requirement, the only problem is we have a fully busy day.

"Matt come on we have to get up we are filming today"

"nooo just five more mintues"

he states bringing your body closer to his in his warm bed

"matt i gave you like 10"

you huff out, trying to wiggle out of his tight grip around you. Eventually, succeeding which resulted in a groan from your boyfriend admitting his defeat.

"come on move your butt"

you state playfully ruffling his messy brown hair, and heading into his bathroom to get ready for the day.

You finally got out of the shower, walking back out to the main room to you and Matt's shared closet, trying to decide ultimately what you wanted to wear for the rest of the day. In doing so, your back was turned to the bed not realizing that your boyfriend, with his clingy self, making his way to your figure only covered in a towel.

Matt finally reaches you standing in the closet, proceeding to grip your hips suddenly, yanking you backward and colliding with his crotch and chest.

"MATTT I DONT HAVE ANY CLOTHES ON YET"

you squeal giggling. As he wraps both of his toned tattooed arms around your chest, squeezing your breasts, as you place your hands on top of his arms around you, nuzzling his head in your neck.

"You dont need them for what we are about to do"

he states smugly as he leaves kisses on your neck, as you giggle in the process through the fact his kisses tickle your skin slightly.

"Mattheww, you are going to get us in trouble"

you exclaim leaning your head back against his shoulder.

"So.."

he trails off as you turn around in his arms, staring seriously into your boyfriend's blue orbs.

"So, we have to leave in 20 minutes to get to our meeting with Laura"

you state as your boyfriend gives you a unphased look.

"so get in the shower"

"Are you lovebirds ready yet we are going to be late, LET"S GO"

We all finally managed to get to our meeting with Laura and during the meeting, Matt couldn't keep his hands off of you still. Whether it be gripping your leg under the conference table or even slightly touching your shoulder as he reaches to grab something on the table.

Once our meeting was over, we headed to Target to refill our groceries in the house.

"Chris do we really need that much Pepsi"

he exclaims already ready to go home after a long day, wanting to just finally have his girlfriend close to him.

"yes what kind of stupid fucking question is that"

Chris argues with his brother.

"Chris just put them in the cart please"

you state simply trying to avoid an altercation. Heading out of the aisle with the triplets following behind.

After a little while you wandered off with Matt into the makeup aisle of Target. Matt bored out of his mind lets out a deep sigh, gaining your attention.

"you okay"

you simply state still focused on finding the products you were out of at home. As your boyfriend makes his way closer to you, slipping his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, slightly gripping your ass through them.

"how much longer till we go home"

"almost done my love then you can have my full attention"

you state as he sighs patting your ass lovingly, and proceeding to go look for Nick and Chris.

You guys finally get back home, you and Matt wandering back into your shared room in the house.

"Oh my hi"

you exclaim quietly as Matt lifts you off of the ground kissing your supple lips as you place your hands on the sides of his face, deepening the kiss.

" hi.. i missed you"

matt says finally breaking the kiss.

"i was with you all day baby what do you mean"

you giggle out, caressing his cheeks in your hand looking in his blue orbs filled with love.

"yeah but i just wanted to be close to you"

he states simply giving your lips another quick sweet kiss as you giggle into his lips.

"just touchy today hm"

you state back, finally wrapping your arms around his neck tightly as he hugs your waist in the same position you were currently in.

A/N: leave requests in my inbox if you want a specific type of story 💗

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @adirtylittleheart @wh0resstuff

[uncookedfeeler]

Citrus II🍋

Yuna x Reader

Tags : 7k, smut, incest, daddy kink,

Part 1

Five past eight in the morning, you arrive in front of your company, after having crossed a few blocks in the capital, at the automatic barrier, you wave to the guards to say hello and make your way to the underground car park, of course you have reserved your own space, not far from the lift, the privilege of having an important place in the company, you say to yourself; once the car has stopped, your bag in hand, you walk at a brisk pace to the lift and press the button for your floor.

Your impatience and shame are growing, you're late, which is far from your usual routine, especially when your president is probably waiting for you in your office. The reason for your lateness is even more shameful, but you're determined to put these thoughts aside during the working day.

Once you are on your floor, you pass through a second glass door, which you open with your badge. In the corner is the office of your secretary, who stands up to greet you and to warn you that the CEO is already in your office, just as you had expected.

"Hello Mrs Kang, and thank you, how long has he been here?"

"Not long, he arrived 5 minutes ago, he seems to be smiling, I think you'll be fine," she replies with a nervous smile, "would you like me to make some coffees and bring them to you?"

"No need, I'll do it myself, otherwise nothing else for the rest of the day? "

"There's a lot of paperwork to do today after the president leaves, your meetings don't start until this afternoon". You give her a thumbs up before putting your hands on the latch of your door. 

Your office was a modern space filled with clean lines and muted tones. A large executive desk dominated the room; behind it, tall windows filtered soft daylight through half-drawn blinds, while recessed lights softly illuminated the dark wood cabinets lining the back wall. In the corner, a pair of white armchairs and a sofa were accented by a single red cushion.

Across from you is your chairman, a middle-aged man with short grey hair and a warm smile. His face has visible wrinkles, particularly around the eyes, suggesting a friendly mood. He is wearing a formal dark suit and tie.

“I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr Ahn,” you say, bowing 90° to him.

"Ha ha, hello director, there's no need to be so formal, just get up and sit down,”he says, pointing with both hands to the seat in front of him. 

“Thank you, would you like a coffee while I'm up?”

“A short one then, my wife says I drink too much.”

You walk over to your desk and behind your chair is a piece of furniture that runs the full height of the wall, on top of which are various decorations, including your personal coffee machine.

“They all say that, but a good machine needs its fuel to work properly, doesn't it?”

“Absolutely.”

A few minutes pass as you place your respective coffees on the table between you, warning him that they are still very hot.

“I heard about the new contracts with JYP, good work Director Shin, I imagine it must have taken a lot of negotiation, they're notoriously difficult to do business with.”

“You could say that, it's not the first time they've worked with a cosmetics company like us, and it seems that their previous partnerships haven't been very successful, but with the work of the whole team, I think we've convinced them to count on us.”

“We still don't know the names of the models who will be wearing our products? if they match our latest collections well, I think it would be a great boost to our sales.”

“No information on that, the TWICE girls would be perfect, they embody the mid-twenties woman and seem to have finally lost their all-cute and pink ribbon image.”

As you finish your sentence, you see the chairman smiling after taking a sip of his coffee.

"Really good coffee, and why not ITZY, I'm sure they could certainly manage it too", the President smiles obviously as he mentions the group to which your daughter belongs.

"Yes, I'm sure", you reply with a touch of humour, the President knows very well who your daughter is and the joke shows how close you are to him.

"By the way, how is your daughter, she's appearing all over the country, she really seems to be riding on her popularity, you must be very proud of her".

"Sure, I try to keep up with her, although it's not as easy as it sounds, I imagine she'd be surprised to model for our company, I doubt she knows where I work or my position," you say with regret in your voice.

"Raising a daughter is not easy, I'll give you that, my older daughter... "Before he can finish, your phone rings to tell you that you've received a message with an attachment.

"When we were talking about the wolf, she sent me a message, sorry, go on, sir," you say, trying to get the conversation going again.

"Take your time, it's important to maintain a relationship with your children, especially when they've left home," he replies, leaning back on the sofa to take a step back.

After unlocking your phone, you click on the notification to open Yuna's message, which contains a link to a video and the message "how to grow my lemons", the link takes you to the streaming site Yuna uses and a replay starts :

"I've talked about this before, but the other day I took two lemons home to my parents that I've been growing for a long time, I'm not very good at it, so I asked my dad for help, he worked hard on them yesterday, you should have seen him, he played with them first and then he watered them generously, I think he's learning as much as I am, so I looked up on the internet how to grow them properly:

- First you need to stir the soil well with your fingers or a tool, then you need to push the seeds in deeply until they reach the end, then you need to water the soil regularly with love to increase the chances of getting a big lemon.

My two lemons have already grown well, so I'm wondering if I shouldn't put in a new seed to make a third, much bigger than the others," she said as she finished her explanation, stroking her stomach several times each time the word seed was mentioned.

Your promise to keep your impure thoughts out of your workplace, but Yuna's provocation, so innocent at first, is dangerously immoral and exciting in the right context.

"Your daughter seems to have found a passion for gardening, which is rare for young people who have only known the capital and its huge buildings," the President replies in an amused tone. 

"However, I wonder if young women have an attraction for fruity things, it brings a sweet and innocent side while retaining the exotic taste of a sweet and strong flavour, should we explore this avenue for our products?" he asked, he's the President after all, so business comes first for him. 

"It's hard to say, I know she had a shoot with different fruits as a concept, she doesn't quite fit the image of a young teenager, but an entry-level range for young girls with products that are easy to apply and discreet or even fragrant could be a target".

Another message appears on your screen with only the text ‘Now you know how to do it 💦🍋’.

The shock is quite brutal, you would never have imagined that your daughter would be so direct with you on this subject, after all you only really resumed your father-daughter relationship yesterday, the difference in personality between the nice, almost innocent girl you had yesterday and this morning and now, where she doesn't hesitate to tease you in public or by text message, a part of you hopes that she is just doing it for fun and not to satisfy you for fear of being abandoned again.

At no point do you want to force her down a path that won't make her happy, you've already thrown away your morals for her, now her happiness is your only concern, her wishes are your orders and pleasing your princess remains your goal in life.

You thank her for the guide and send her a sticker of a cat blowing kisses, followed by an 'I love you'. You put your phone back in your pocket to resume your conversation with your CEO as the clock ticks.

.

"I think we're done, I've really enjoyed this chat, I knew I could count on you to come up with new ideas, would you like to join the monthly review of their project, let's bring them the seed of your future fruity project," as the President stands up and walks towards the door.

"Sure, I'm following you"

.

.

.

The meeting has seemed endless, the chair and the others have taken it in turns to stimulate the discussion with their ideas, and what was supposed to be a simple project review has turned into a kick-off meeting for your project. It's past lunchtime and you've just returned to your office, completely drained of energy and with an appetite that's starting to grow. However, your position in the company means that with a simple phone call you can have a member of the kitchen staff come to your floor with your food.

"Knock, knock" 

"You can come in"

"Morning, Director Shin, here's your lunch," says an athletic-looking young man as he places it on your desk.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, I've had a busy morning and my legs need a rest," you say in a moment of weakness.

"No, no, no problem, sir, I'll come back for the tray later, enjoy your meal". The young man leaves your office in a hurry.

As you pounced on your meal like a hungry hyena, this break being one of the rare moments when you let your invasive curiosity take over, you grabbed the mouse of your computer to open the search browser and typed in the name of your company as well as your first name, you had this strong feeling that you knew what was being said about you or your company, public opinion is important and you were also worried about letting your bad reputation tarnish that of your daughter in case of problems at work.

And although you didn't show her much, it was also your ritual to follow your daughter's career. All these years you have been following her journey as an adult in the industry, and it fills you with pride that today your daughter's name still appears at the top of the search rankings.

Her latest Instagram post seems to have set the internet on fire, as you click on the top trending link to see a series of photos of her in the bathroom of your house, her hair flaming red, her make-up perfectly applied to her face and her brown eyes piercing through the mirror. She's wearing a lovely black and white tank top and I'm sure you'll agree that she looks absolutely fucking gorgeous in these photos, the comments are flooding in with praise for her look, despite the occasional haters, but nothing new.

You quickly take out your phone to leave a message for your princess: 

"I've just seen your photos, you're as beautiful as ever," while attaching a photo of the article you took with your phone. Once you've sent the message, you go back to your meal and your thoughts take over, you realise that this kind of little intention would have started from the beginning of her career, the simple fact of exchanging with your child and the feeling that comes from it soothes your heart and too bad if you become a clingy dad, you're going to tell her every day.

You're suddenly brought back to reality when your phone displays a notification saying that she's replied to you with a simple :

"Hihi thank you 😛, look at my little present", while a second message appears with a still blurred image, followed by a third in the conversation, Yuna had sent it as sensitive content, so you have to click on it to view it, and you're far from imagining what's revealed before your eyes: the last message served as a description with the words:  

"it was just after the shower when i was getting ready to go to the company, my little lemons have turned into cherries, all i need now is your big seed 🍒" the photo is taken from a higher angle where your daughter lifts her top to reveal her small breasts and the many hickey marks still present on her body, Her left breast and nipple are well marked by your mouth, not forgetting that she's not wearing anything, and you can see her little bush underneath, with a comment at the bottom: "To 🍼 my 🧔🏻, He must 🍼 my 😻 first".

At that moment, your cock springs to attention in a flash, it shoots up through your trousers and slams against your belly, any man knows that pain and it's far from pleasant, you loosen your belt to give your raging member a little slack, this little minx knew what to do to excite someone and the hours were going to be long from now on.

The rest of the day goes by slowly, you don't dare take out your phone for fear of getting into an embarrassing situation, you still feel some vibrations in the afternoon, but like a good professional you don't even look, the hours go by until the beginning of the evening, you leave your office and go to the underground car park, you make the effort to look at your phone and all you get are trivial messages, You're a little disappointed because you were secretly hoping for more messages from Yuna, halfway there you find yourself stuck in traffic on the road and you decide to call Yuna to find out how her day went, she answers almost immediately but doesn't answer your question, but you can hear the girls chatting as if she had picked up the phone and put it on a table.

You wonder what kind of phone she uses to get such good quality, the girls' voices are easily recognisable and the sound is as if you were in the room with them.

Yeji: "Ugh, yesterday's shoot was so chaotic! I swear we almost lost our minds trying to get the perfect angle".

Lia: "I know, right? I thought we were going to end up on a blooper reels. Remember when we all turned the wrong way during that one scene?

Ryujin: "Yeah, and Yuna was the only one who actually turned the right way! I guess she has an 'inner compass' or something..."

Yuna: "Hey! I just knew what to do! Plus you stole my concept, remember!"

Yeji: "I mean, you didn't mind talking about it online, you even mentioned your dad again, you're such a daddy girl after all"

Yuna: "Not you too! Can we please not talk about my 'daddy issues' again?"

Chaeryeong: "We can't help it! It's just so weird how you don't even look at all the sexy boys around us, I wonder what you do with all those pictures of him you snatch from the internet".

Lia: “'Even though we know what she's doing, she's acting cold towards him, but in the end it makes you hot, doesn't it? you should at least try dating someone, we've all done it so far and it's like, we're not asking you to sleep with them, just get some dating experience”

Chaeryeong: “Easy Lia-unnie, you're the one taking selfies with your exes' dicks in your mouth aren't you? they never fucked you anyway so keep your advice to yourself”

Chaeryeong:“Yuna, listen, we're not forcing you to do anything, but try to use your youth to meet people, it's weird to see you alone at home all the time.”

Yuna: “Unnie, that's not the problem, I'm just afraid of being rejected and I don't know how to tell him how I feel about him, we haven't been very close since mum left”.

Ryujin: “He's your dad Yuna, of course you love him in your own way, let's just say, just tell him and you'll be free of this burden, then we can go and pick up some hot guys backstage”.

Yeji: “I don't think she likes you getting fucked in the toilets when the newbies show up, same goes for you Chaeryoung, no one's putting any pressure on Yuna, right?”

Lia: “Easy for you to say when you're being fucked by your childhood sweetheart, we're not so lucky to have someone who loves us for something other than our bodies”.

Yuna: "It hurts, doesn't it? Aren't you afraid of getting pregnant?"

Ryujin: "'Are you kidding? Wait, you've never...? not even with the toys you hide in the box under your bed?"

Yuna: ”'OF COURSE NOT".

Yeji: "Stop laughing you bitches, Yuna this ain't that serious, yes it can hurt, you have to be prepared downstairs and remember we take all the pills the company gives us and don't forget we always use condoms, DON'T GIRLS?"

Ryujin: "Don't give us shit about it, they shove it up my arse anyway, you think I'm going to let those sons of bitches touch my pussy? a good load on the face, that's what it's all about'."

Lia: "Same thing, they can fill my arse but my pussy is off limits, I love to smash their cocks and make them scream in pain when they try to pull out'."

Chaeryeong: "Fucking listen to these bitches, apart from sucking cocks when I want to, I only fuck other girls, no risk on my side."

Yeji: "See, we're all careful, protect yourself well and don't forget your pills, they help with your periods too'."

Yuna: “I'm out of pills and I don't have a condom, but it's not like I need one, is it?!!, I'm going home tonight, don't wait for me”.

Ryujin: “Don't take it like that baby, I can give you some if you want”.

Yeji: “Yuna, come back!!! “.

You hear the loud thud of a door slamming and limbs flailing as Yuna leaves.

Yeji: “ 'Well done girls, that was clearly a good time to bring her down and make fun of her and her problems”

Lia: "Sorry unnie, we didn't think she'd take it like that, I'll go and get her'.”

Ryujin: “Stay here, you're making it worse.”

Lia: “Bloody hell, how can someone like that be so ignorant of her own sexuality, do you think she likes girls instead?”

Chaeryeong: “She's got a crush on her dad, are you stupid or what, we don't say anything to avoid the subject, she's just wanted to fuck her dad for a long time, she's got photos of him on her phone, on her wallpaper, a photo of him under her pillow, the poor thing is in desperate need of fatherly love”

Yeji: “ I don't know what happened last night, but since then she's been really nervous about it, let's leave her alone, otherwise she'll go crazy and we don't know what she'll do”.

Yeji: "We'll see about that later, it's almost time. Get ready and I'll go to her, you three go with the managers. We'll go back to the company, Chaery, get her bag and phone. She left it on the table."

Calm returned to the room and before you lost the connection to your daughter's phone, you heard

"Looks like you've got work to do Daddy Shin, sorry for the trouble" and she hangs up.

This is a lot to take in, and apart from the sexual debates between the 4 girls, which did not leave you without a reaction, the hardest thing is still Yuna's problems, which confirm your fears about her feelings, your daughter is not the provocative woman she pretends to be in the message, she is a young woman who still has a lot to learn about her own love and carnal feelings, knowing that your little girl is 'pure and innocent' would make any father smile, but on the other hand, what is the harm in learning about her sexuality? The trauma that has held her back, and for which you are probably responsible, is preventing her from moving forward in her life as a woman.

You'd been thinking all day about how to punish your daughter for her insolence, but the person you'd been talking to didn't exist. With Yuna's true feelings in mind, the next logical step seemed to be to wait for her at home and assume your role as father, as a princess deserves.

When you get home, you look at the clock and realise that she won't be home for another hour or two. That gives you plenty of time to tidy up, do your laundry and take a shower. You've picked up some bad habits living alone, but now that you're sharing your home with someone else, it's time to get the ball rolling again and restore the beauty of your property.

Time flies and you've barely had time to get out of the shower and into your new clothes when you hear the door latch click. You quickly step in front of it to see a redhead running towards you, dropping her bag in the doorway and giving you a big hug.

"Welcome home, darling," you say, stroking her head as you feel her face sink into your chest and a wet feeling hit your chest.

"I'm sorry daddy, I..."

"SHhh, it's all right, I'm here."

The situation is very different from yesterday, Yuna's shell seems to have burst the moment she saw you, you feel the warmth of her body against yours as her arms wrap around you, you say nothing, leaving one of your hands on her head and the other on her back.

"Dad, I... the message... it's not .... I wan...."

"Just breathe, I'm not angry, you know,"

"I just wanted to make you happy, I wanted to show you I'm a big girl, I'm so embarrassed now"

"You don't have to make me happy, it's my job to make YOU happy, and don't bother trying to act big, you're my little princess, that's all".

Just as she seems to have calmed down, you take her face in your hands to wipe away the last of her tears before placing a loving kiss on her forehead, "I love you," you say in a low voice as if to lull her to sleep, "I will never let you down, my only daughter.

Yuna is lulled by your words and you feel the weight of her body fall on your arms, "just rest on the sofa, I'll bring you a snack, you must be tired from your day's work", she accepts without flinching as you prepare something to eat while you wait for dinner, your daughter sits on the sofa, her head resting on a pillow, looking at you, when your eyes meet you exchange a smile without saying a word.

The evening passes smoothly, while your daughter rests and eats, you finally talk about your respective days, leaving your erotic exchanges out of the conversation, she finally gets to know your job, while you finally know what happens off camera, the night is felt and you suggest she take a shower while you prepare dinner, again she accepts without concern.

"Would you like to join me?" she asks shyly.

"Yuna, your legs are shaking, you don't have to push anything, I'm not going anywhere," you reply to her completely unexpected request.

She doesn't even answer and locks herself in the bathroom, slamming the door. You really can't understand what's going on in her head, but there's no time to lose, so you start preparing dinner.

Like last night, the meal is spent in church-like silence, each of us with our own thoughts. Yuna is completely withdrawn and doesn't even look at you, which is quite an awkward situation for you as she seems so close and then suddenly so far away.

You try to break this silence in the desert and ask her if she wants to watch a film, she takes a while to answer and then accepts, saying that she has to change first so that you can start getting everything ready while you wait for her, it's a good start and the film could give you a new topic of conversation to revive the dialogue between the two of you.

While she's still in her room, you call out to her to ask what film she's interested in. 

"Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken Please, Giselle-unnie told me it's good". 

You hear through the house, you recognise your daughter, who has always loved cartoons, once you've found them on Netflix, you adjust the brightness of the lights for a subdued effect, you've prepared a blanket and something to eat.

The minutes tick by and you wonder what Yuna is doing, you don't see much, it takes so long to get into pyjamas, but you tell yourself she's probably on her phone at the same time, which often doesn't help.

You hear her footsteps behind you and when she appears behind you, you see her wearing a simple pink t-shirt, you can easily guess that she's not wearing anything underneath as it hugs her breasts.

Suddenly she's straddling you, saying, "Forget the film, I want you, Daddy," as she pushes her body into yours and lies on top of you in a lotus position.

"Yuna, please, I," you don't finish your sentence as she slaps your face. 

"STOPPP REJECTING MEEEEEEEEEE' she screams at the top of her lungs as she bursts into tears over you, 'WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, I....I....I JUST WANT YOU TO LOVE ME' WH... WHY ARE YOU HURTING ME LIKE THIS?

Your daughter lashes out at you in shock at what's happening in front of you, you grab her arms and she becomes helpless under the difference in strength between the two of you. 

"Yun..." 

"I just want you..." she says, her face completely ravaged by tears, the face of someone who is deeply hurt and can't take it anymore.

Something breaks inside you, all this time you've assumed she would throw herself at you, just to be like the others, just to receive the love you would have given her anyway, you've hurt her again and again until you made the same mistake you made with your wife.

Your daughter loves you more than anything and you are too blind to see that she doesn't know how else to show it, but this time you will make it right and give yourself to her.

Without further ado, you threw your lips over hers, releasing her wrists from your grip and sliding your hands from her lower abdomen to her breasts hidden under her t-shirt.

"No bra, you little rascal?"

Instinctively she puts her hands on your shoulders and fights your tongue with hers, you attack her nipples with your hand and they are already hard, the attack on her breasts causes Yuna to moan which is absorbed by your kiss, you go down her neck to place your marks while she can finally listen to her pleasure.

"Daddy, your cock, give it to me" she says as she plunges her hand into your shorts and meets your cock through the underpants, you lift her up with the strength of your legs and come to remove your underwear in one go, your cock is now naked between your daughter's thighs and she puts her hands on it.

"Put some saliva before baby," she listens to you religiously, but instead comes and gets the saliva overflowing from her pussy and applies it to your cock.

"Let me use my juices before you use yours," she says as she works your cock up and down, your shaft growing under Yuna's movements and the pleasure is truly enjoyable.

One of your hands digs into her soaking wet panties and you massage her slit with your fingers, your moaning cries joining in as you pleasure each other.

Quickly she gets up from the sofa to kneel in front of you and she begins to lick your cock with delicacy, her tongue starts at the glans and she places kisses on it, then her tongue and lips come together so that she tries to suck your sperm, her lips then go gently down the length of your cock and your cock goes slowly down her throat.

"Yuna, that's good, you're doing great," you say as you put both hands on her head to guide her, you watch as your cock disappears into her mouth as the sensations of her work send shivers down your back, from time to time she pulls out to spit on your shaft before sliding back in,

Yuna learns as she goes and her technique is perfected with each dive, after a while your breaking point comes and you refuse to finish here so you help her pull out and try to save your orgasm for later, her mouth overflowing with saliva and she looks at you with appetite.

"Sorry baby but it's my time to eat you now" you tell her as you take her in your arms and go into your bedroom where you lay her on her back on the edge of the bed, without further ado she attacks her pussy with your mouth and she presses her thighs against your head, Your tongue immediately attacks her slit, which rushes to secrete its juices, which you suck up as you go, her clit is quickly attacked by one of your hands, which takes great care to titillate the little bean, with delicacy you move up and down her slit, from time to time penetrating her entrance with your tongue to prepare the work,

The poor red girl cries out with pleasure as she experiences being devoured by her lover for the first time, she clings to your hair which she pulls when the pleasure is too great, on your side you shift into second gear and penetrate your daughter's pussy with two fingers, you feel like you're piercing a flan because the inside is so soft.

“Daddy don't stop, it's coming” your daughter cries out as she feels your third finger deep inside her, your mouth has turned into a wet wiping system as her pussy floods your mouth, you keep up the rhythm until you feel your daughter leave and in a flash her body goes rigid and her pelvis convulses under the power of the orgasm.

You lift your head and climb onto the bed to kiss your princess with a little “I love you” in her ears, 

"Daddy, I want you,” she says, stretching out her arms to ask you to come inside her, “it's time to put that seed inside me,” as she spreads her pussy in front of you.

Worried, you reach over to your bedside table for a condom, but Yuna stops you.

“It's ok daddy, I'm on the pill and it's a safe day, you can pour everything into my secret garden", Yuna's naughty language excites you immensely and your cock hurts so you give in and come to lie on her entrance and gently tap your cock to soak it in her juices, 

You sink gently and anxiously into your own daughter, resting your elbows on the mattress so that you can kiss her as you move inside her, every inch of her is painful and she lets you feel it as she scratches your back with her fingernails, you kiss her tenderly as your hips move up to touch her pussy, 

Your cock feels the tightness of her vagina as well as the warmth and moisture from your excellent preparation work, the passage through her pussy is made without too much effort and you slide deep inside her like butter, on the other side Yuna seems to take your big cock like a champion and despite the pain she has already wrapped her legs around your waist.

You feel her warm, rapid breathing on your face as you look into her eyes, just inches apart.

"Daddy, I can feel you inside me, my little pussy just ate your big dick."

"Are you alright baby, I won't move until you're ready".

"I want to sit like on the sofa".

You obeyed her orders and gently lifted her up without pulling back to let her sit on you, you put yourself on her buttocks and she was now resting all her weight on you, the change of position made your cock dig even deeper inside her and she felt it well. 

"Don't move, I want to stay connected to you like this," as she strokes her stomach trying to feel your cock, "keep eating my tits, please.

Just as your cock seems to have bottomed out, you turn your attention to her pair of little red lemons, You really loved her tits, they are not as big as some but in your eyes they are perfect, the texture of them, the feel of them in your hands and the way Yuna reacts every time you nibble on her nipples.

You decide to kiss your daughter and whisper "Shall we?" to which she only nods, you begin to rock your hips as your cock slowly emerges from her pussy and then slowly returns, never fully exiting, you carve your daughter's walls with your cock and Yuna moans with pleasure at the work of your rod.

“♥Hmm....♥Ah....♥Hmm, ah....♥ Daddy, your cock is turning me inside out, every time you push in it feels weird down there, it's a bit painful but also extremely pleasurable, I can feel your big cock pushing my sides apart and knocking on my garden gate, keep it up, I want to feel your cock ravaging me".

You pick up the pace at your partner's request, your cock seems to have done its job well as you are able to withdraw completely before impaling her again with no problem, under the force of your hips Yuna lays her head on your neck and sucks you like a baby, you let go of her breasts to lock your hold on her by circling her waist with your arms, once firmly in place you pound her with all your strength. 

“♥Ah....”

“♥Ah.... DADDY”

“♥Ah....

♥Ah.... DA”

For long minutes, you hold her close as your cock slams violently into her pussy. The pleasure comes from the fact that Yuna has her head back, unable to form a sentence. Pleasure has taken over her body. You feel your orgasm building slowly. While your daughter is already on the verge of hers, you feel her legs squeeze you hard as she explodes on your cock and her fluids flow down it. Yet you don't stop your thrusts.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Stop it"' At her command you stop and discover your daughter's face completely undressed, her hair sticking to her sweaty face and you push aside the lips that hide her eyes to kiss her.

"Let me do it now" she asks as she moves her hips on her own to embrace your sensitive cock, her movements are fast, her pussy devouring you at its own pace and you put your hands on both her buttocks to support her, you give little slaps to her delicate skin and as she fucks herself on her father's cock you feel your orgasm coming and you warn her.

"Yuna, I'm coming"

She gives you the coup de grace when she puts all her weight on her descent and your stiff cock pierces all her pussy until your balls kiss her pussy, inside your cock floods her and for the first time in her life Yuna is at the door of motherhood, her pussy sucks your sperm with efficiency and you withdraw from her.

Yuna is still sitting on your lap, your breaths heavy, your bodies full of sweat and juice, and neither of you can stand the silence as Yuna's cum begins to flow.

"Ah baby, that was amazing. You were amazing!"

"Thanks daddy, do you want some more?"

"I'm sorry darling, I'm not young anymore, my penis is withered."

You can see the disappointment in Yuna's eyes. In your youth, a second round might have been possible, but now your libido is limited to your arousal, and after emptying yourself into her, you no longer feel anything on that level.

"Daddy... Are you going to leave me like this?" says Yuna as she gets down on all fours, points her bottom at you and spreads her pussy with your cum dripping from it.

The sight of your daughter in this position would have turned any man on. You feel like it, but your desire is gone for the moment. You see your daughter wiggling her bottom, begging you to fuck her, and you're powerless to stop her.

"Dad, I'm sorry... I lied, I haven't taken the pill yet, I want a second shot or I won't take it. The longer you wait the more your seeds will fertilise my garden, look how hungry my pussy is, come and make sure you flood my pussy next to save my career."

You're at a loss for words, whether to believe her or not, but one thing's for sure, she knows how to work you because your cock has come back to life and you're going to take malicious pleasure in making her regret having put that doubt in your head.

You grab her hips and penetrate her little pussy, slamming your balls against her arse, 

The gentleness of before has been transformed into a wild fuck where only pleasure is king. Your hands are firmly planted on her hips as you pound her with your pelvis, creating waves on her buttocks that will soon feel the onslaught of your hands.

"Daddy, your cock is stirring my insides, your sperm is mixing in my pussy, push hard".

Your daughter is now nothing more than a vulgar hole in your assaults, the seed of doubt she has planted in your mind has completely removed your sanity. If she is indeed unprotected, your first sperm must have done its work in spite of you. When in doubt, you prefer to flood her a second time and make sure she takes her medicine.

Go ahead daddy, make me your property, claim my pussy as your own personal garden, I'll take care of all your fruit,' Yuna's provocations rage in your mind. So you explode into your offspring's pussy again, you stand for a few seconds spasming against your daughter's ass as she collapses onto the bed, then you do the same, completely exhausted.

'Was that true about the pill, baby?

'Yes...' she says shyly. Now that all her libido has left her body, she presses you against her breasts and whispers in your ear: "It's too early to taste my juice, you'll have to give me some more water.

Your daughter is soon off to dreamland, still naked, and the bed is soaked with the fluids of your lovemaking. You make sure you look as tired as possible before you too collapse.

.

.

You wake up to a pleasant smell, but also to a body in pain. The bedroom gym session hasn't done your body any good, but your mind is at peace. As you leave your room, you see Yuna in an apron preparing breakfast. Beside her is a pack of contraceptive pills, two of which are already empty. When she sees you, she says:

"Good morning, Dad, you're going to need your strength, remember, you have to stir the soil first before you put your seed in. We're going to have to spend some time on this before you can make my pussy fertile for you."

Later, as you're driving to work, you see an important email from your CEO and a message from Yuna; you'd like to think that the email is more important, but that would be lying to yourself,

The text message is just a selfie of your daughter still in bed next to you with the message 'I've got a body full of marks, the girls are going to realise what we've done, not to mention I've still got your sperm in me 🤭"

Classic Yuna, but you'll have to get used to it. You've made a pact with a demon, but who cares, you're no angel anyway.

As for the email, just looking at the title 'Meeting with JYP & ITZY', it looks like you're finally going to meet one or more members of your daughter's group.

______________________________________________________________

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Google’s new phones can’t stop phoning home

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

One of the most brazen lies of Big Tech is that people like commercial surveillance, a fact you can verify for yourself by simply observing how many people end up using products that spy on them. If they didn't like spying, they wouldn't opt into being spied on.

This lie has spread to the law enforcement and national security agencies, who treasure Big Tech's surveillance as an off-the-books trove of warrantless data that no court would ever permit them to gather on their own. Back in 2017, I found myself at SXSW, debating an FBI agent who was defending the Bureau's gigantic facial recognition database, which, he claimed, contained the faces of virtually every American:

https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2017/mar/11/sxsw-facial-recognition-biometrics-surveillance-panel

The agent insisted that the FBI had acquired all those faces through legitimate means, by accessing public sources of people's faces. In other words, we'd all opted in to FBI facial recognition surveillance. "Sure," I said, "to opt out, just don't have a face."

This pathology is endemic to neoliberal thinking, which insists that all our political matters can be reduced to economic ones, specifically, the kind of economic questions that can be mathematically modeled and empirically tested. It would be great if all our thorniest problems could be solved like mathematical equations.

Unfortunately, there are key elements of these systems that can't be reliably quantified and turned into mathematical operators, especially power. The fact that someone did something tells you nothing about whether they chose to do so – to understand whether someone was coerced or made a free choice, you have to consider the power relationships involved.

Conservatives hate this idea. They want to live in a neat world of "revealed preferences," where the fact that you're working in a job where you're regularly exposed to carcinogens, or that you've stayed with a spouse who beats the shit out of you, or that you're homeless, or that you're addicted to Oxy, is a matter of choice. Monopolies exist because we all love the monopolist's product best, not because they've got monopoly power. Jobs that pay starvation wages exist because people want to work full time for so little money that they need food-stamps just to survive. Intervening in any of these situations is "woke paternalism," where the government thinks it knows better than you and intervenes to take away your right to consume unsafe products, get maimed at work, or have your jaw broken by your husband.

Which is why neoliberals insist that politics should be reduced to economics, and that economics should be carried out as if power didn't exist:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/05/farrago/#jeffty-is-five

Nowhere is this stupid trick more visible than in the surveillance fight. For example, Google claims that it tracks your location because you asked it to, by using Google products that make use of your location without clicking an opt out button.

In reality, Google has the power to simply ignore your preferences about location tracking. In 2021, the Arizona Attorney General's privacy case against Google yielded a bunch of internal memos, including memos from Google's senior product manager for location services Jen Chai complaining that she had turned off location tracking in three places and was still being tracked:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/01/you-are-here/#goog

Multiple googlers complained about this: they'd gone through dozens of preference screens, hunting for "don't track my location" checkboxes, and still they found that they were being tracked. These were people who worked under Chai on the location services team. If the head of that team, and her subordinates, couldn't figure out how to opt out of location tracking, what chance did you have?

Despite all this, I've found myself continuing to use stock Google Pixel phones running stock Google Android. There were three reasons for this:

First and most importantly: security. While I worry about Google tracking me, I am as worried (or more) about foreign governments, random hackers, and dedicated attackers gaining access to my phone. Google's appetite for my personal data knows no bounds, but at least the company is serious about patching defects in the Pixel line.

Second: coercion. There are a lot of apps that I need to run – to pay for parking, say, or to access my credit union or control my rooftop solar – that either won't run on jailbroken Android phones or require constant tweaking to keep running.

Finally: time. I already have the equivalent of three full time jobs and struggle every day to complete my essential tasks, including managing complex health issues and being there for my family. The time I take out of my schedule to actively manage a de-Googled Android would come at the expense of either my professional or personal life.

And despite Google's enshittificatory impulses, the Pixels are reliably high-quality, robust phones that get the hell out of the way and let me do my job. The Pixels are Google's flagship electronic products, and the company acts like it.

Until now.

A new report from Cybernews reveals just how much data the next generation Pixel 9 phones collect and transmit to Google, without any user intervention, and in defiance of the owner's express preferences to the contrary:

https://cybernews.com/security/google-pixel-9-phone-beams-data-and-awaits-commands/

The Pixel 9 phones home every 15 minutes, even when it's not in use, sharing "location, email address, phone number, network status, and other telemetry." Additionally, every 40 minutes, the new Pixels transmit "firmware version, whether connected to WiFi or using mobile data, the SIM card Carrier, and the user’s email address." Even further, even if you've never opened Google Photos, the phone contacts Google Photos’ Face Grouping API at regular intervals. Another process periodically contacts Google's Voice Search servers, even if you never use Voice Search, transmitting "the number of times the device was restarted, the time elapsed since powering on, and a list of apps installed on the device, including the sideloaded ones."

All of this is without any consent. Or rather, without any consent beyond the "revealed preference" of just buying a phone from Google ("to opt out, don't have a face").

What's more, the Cybernews report probably undercounts the amount of passive surveillance the Pixel 9 undertakes. To monitor their testbench phone, Cybernews had to root it and install Magisk, a monitoring tool. In order to do that, they had to disable the AI features that Google touts as the centerpiece of Pixel 9. AI is, of course, notoriously data-hungry and privacy invasive, and all the above represents the data collection the Pixel 9 undertakes without any of its AI nonsense.

It just gets worse. The Pixel 9 also routinely connects to a "CloudDPC" server run by Google. Normally, this is a server that an enterprise customer would connect its employees' devices to, allowing the company to push updates to employees' phones without any action on their part. But Google has designed the Pixel 9 so that privately owned phones do the same thing with Google, allowing for zero-click, no-notification software changes on devices that you own.

This is the kind of measure that works well, but fails badly. It assumes that the risk of Pixel owners failing to download a patch outweighs the risk of a Google insider pushing out a malicious update. Why would Google do that? Well, perhaps a rogue employee wants to spy on his ex-girlfriend:

https://www.wired.com/2010/09/google-spy/

Or maybe a Google executive wins an internal power struggle and decrees that Google's products should be made shittier so you need to take more steps to solve your problems, which generates more chances to serve ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Or maybe Google capitulates to an authoritarian government who orders them to install a malicious update to facilitate a campaign of oppressive spying and control:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragonfly_(search_engine)

Indeed, merely by installing a feature that can be abused this way, Google encourages bad actors to abuse it. It's a lot harder for a government or an asshole executive to demand a malicious downgrade of a Google product if users have to accept that downgrade before it takes effect. By removing that choice, Google has greased the skids for malicious downgrades, from both internal and external sources.

Google will insist that these anti-features – both the spying and the permissionless updating – are essential, that it's literally impossible to imagine building a phone that doesn't do these things. This is one of Big Tech's stupidest gambits. It's the same ruse that Zuck deploys when he says that it's impossible to chat with a friend or plan a potluck dinner without letting Facebook spy on you. It's Tim Cook's insistence that there's no way to have a safe, easy to use, secure computing environment without giving Apple a veto over what software you can run and who can fix your device – and that this veto must come with a 30% rake from every dollar you spend on your phone.

The thing is, we know it's possible to separate these things, because they used to be separate. Facebook used to sell itself as the privacy-forward alternative to Myspace, where they would never spy on you (not coincidentally, this is also the best period in Facebook's history, from a user perspective):

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3247362

And we know it's possible to make a Pixel that doesn't do all this nonsense because Google makes other Pixel phones that don't do all this nonsense, like the Pixel 8 that's in my pocket as I type these words.

This doesn't stop Big Tech from gaslighting* us and insisting that demanding a Pixel that doesn't phone home four times an hour is like demanding water that isn't wet.

*pronounced "jass-lighting"

Even before I read this report, I was thinking about what I would do when I broke my current phone (I'm a klutz and I travel a lot, so my gadgets break pretty frequently). Google's latest OS updates have already crammed a bunch of AI bullshit into my Pixel 8 (and Google puts the "invoke AI bullshit" button in the spot where the "do something useful" button used to be, meaning I accidentally pull up the AI bullshit screen several times/day).

Assuming no catastrophic phone disasters, I've got a little while before my next phone, but I reckon when it's time to upgrade, I'll be switching to a phone from the @calyxinstitute@mastodon.social. Calyx is an incredible, privacy-focused nonprofit whose founder, Nicholas Merrill, was the first person to successfully resist one of the Patriot Act's "sneek-and-peek" warrants, spending 11 years defending his users' privacy from secret – and, ultimately, unconstitutional – surveillance:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2013/03/depth-judge-illstons-remarkable-order-striking-down-nsl-statute

Merrill and Calyx have tapped into various obscure corners of US wireless spectrum licenses that require major carriers to give ultra-cheap access to nonprofits, allowing them to offer unlimited, surveillance-free, Net Neutrality respecting wireless data packages:

https://memex.craphound.com/2016/09/22/i-have-found-a-secret-tunnel-that-runs-underneath-the-phone-companies-and-emerges-in-paradise/

I've been a very happy Calyx user in years gone by, but ultimately, I slipped into the default of using stock Pixel handsets with Google's Fi service.

But even as I've grown increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of Google's Android and Pixel programs, I've grown increasingly impressed with Calyx's offerings. The company has graduated from selling mobile hotspots with unlimited data SIMs to selling jailbroken, de-Googled Pixel phones that have all the hardware reliability of a Pixel, coupled with an alternative app suite and your choice of a Calyx SIM and/or a Calyx hotspot:

https://calyxinstitute.org/

Every time I see what Calyx is up to, I think, dammit, it's really time to de-Google my phone. With the Pixel 9 descending to new depths of enshittification, that decision just got a lot easier. When my current phone croaks, I'll be talking to Calyx.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/08/water-thats-not-wet/#pixelated

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[r0-boat]

Asmodeus as the father of your kids

I know canonically Asmodeus can't have kids let's just use our imaginations ✨

SFW! Suggestive! No sex but heavily suggestive because Asmodeus.

Cw: children, pregnancy, birth.

From pregnancy to delivery and after he is the most doting and gentle father. From rubbing your sore feet to helping you with anything you desire. He'll do it with a soft smile in his face and hearts in his eyes because he sees you as the most beautiful creature in all of hell, heaven and Earth.

The Great and feared Demon King of Lust is now wrapped around your little finger. Asmodeus worships the ground you walk on and worships you in other ways ;)

This is the same guy who said he'd clip your toenails for you. You won't be doing anything again once you're pregnant with that man's baby.

Mama/mother/mommy/ma is now your new nickname; He will never stop, even if you ask him to.

He definitely want more kids personally, but honestly 100% he would be okay with whatever number you pick of how many kids you want because he would just be happy to be a father again.

You don't need to do anything because he's already baby-proofed and bought everything. He is screaming with Joy as he brings out the old baby stuff he used to have from the first time he had kids. Yes, it might be a little old.... A couple of centuries, to be exact... But he is sure they are still working. You would not be using century-old baby stuff, But Asmodeus seems insistent; you try coaxing him to shop for the baby... Oh, that Got his attention.

Honestly, from how excited he was, it started to feel like he was the one having the baby and not you. He promises he'll be on his best behavior; absolutely no sexual shenanigans, as you not only go to the human world for shopping but also Tartaros.

"No, Asmodeus, we can't take this all back...*

"Yes, we can. I have the space, And I'm paying for it anyway~"

Your and your baby's health is his TOP priority. Anything that harms or stresses you in any way is considered the scum of the earth, and wants them eradicated this instant in 0.5 seconds.

He wants to do everything when it comes to baby stuff, everything baby showers, gender reveals, every and all baby trend imaginable that he has seen over the years but he has never gotten to do, from picking out a starter Pokémon plushie to trying out baby products on devil social media. Yeah, he's definitely going a little loonie. You might want to calm him down.

He never thought he'd feel this fuzzy feeling in his chest again, watching you cradle your newborn child in your arms. His arms shake, and there is anticipation and nervousness as you hand him his child. He looks at you with a pair of love as he kisses you and whispers, "Thank you."

Asmodeus probably has an entire list of baby names, but at the end of the day, He would ask you what You're going to name the child, and whatever name you pick, he would adore.

His descendants also know, And he desperately wants them to meet their new sibling.

If the kings thought he was annoying before talking about his descendants... OH MY GOD. Tapping his mouth shut won't stop him from talking about his child. He has five drives and two phones with pictures full of his newborn baby, some photos of your pregnancy, and photos of you cuddling and falling asleep with the baby in your arms.

Levi texting you: "Please, why did you make a baby with that insufferable fuck? I can't stand his ass. If he says one more thing about that stupid crotch fruit, I'm making you a widow and becoming the stepfather!"

Mammon spoils his kid with wealth. Asmodeus coddles his kid. No matter how old they grow, they will always be his little baby!

I like to think that there's some daughter or child who would be like the MC of Love Unholyc, where they enjoy spending their time inside playing video games and watching anime. Their last only shows when it's for fictional characters. Pouring all that lust into fan fiction, thirsty furry fan art, or a fictional character they're super obsessed with. But when it comes to the actual act itself, They would start covering their ears and eyes out of embarrassment. They're the person making the super-thirsty JJK edits.

Laughing my ass off imagining the family dynamic is being Saiki K. with his parents

Asmodeus: *tossing vegetables in a pan*

MC: Honey you don't have to be so rough~

Asmodeus: Oh I know you like it rough ;)

Asmo's!Kid: OH MY GOD WHYYY!??

[howtofightwrite]

Most traditional boxing instructors will tell you that if the opponent is taller than you, has longer arms than you, or is heavier than you, you're fucked and you need to stay extremely aware and work really hard to compensate for all the advantage he has over you.

In a recent forensic survey, it was determined that most traditional boxing instructors who get into real world altercations die when they're shot in the head.

This is the problem with a lot of these kinds of arguments. No one practices traditional boxing. At least, no one does so publicly. How do I know this? Because traditionally boxers fought in the nude. Yeah, we're not seeing that, are we? Now, maybe they meant bare knuckle boxing, but really no one does that either, these days. Boxing without safety equipment is not a particularly good idea, for fairly obvious reasons.

The only reason the word, “traditional,” is in the ask is to lend their statement unearned credibility. It's an attempt to make their statement sound more authoritative, without offering any evidence to support the statement.

Who said that?

“Traditional people did.”

Okay, but, 'traditionally,' people cleaned shit off their ass with a stick. So, maybe appealing to Hellenic sports isn't the best gauge of how a fight will play out.

Also, I know I just said it, but, who are these authoritative sports guys? Because they're not named. We're simply told, “most,” of them agree. Which starts to sound a lot like “four out of five dentists agree.” Who are these instructors? What do they teach? Why are the currently in prison for indecent exposure? And how much did you pay them to get their uninformed opinion? Salient questions which may need to be answered, if the original question wasn't invalid on its face.

Why do I say it's invalid?

Because boxing isn't fighting.

Boxing is a sport.

Boxing has rules.

Kick your opponent in the groin, or shin, and you're punished.

Step on their foot, push them, and watch them tumble to the ground before you start stomping on them, and you'll be punished.

Throwing your opponent will be punished.

And of course, as mentioned at the top, pulling out a gun and expanding your opponent's mental horizons is extremely frowned upon.

These are all things that can happen in a real fight.

These are all things that do not benefit from increased height or reach.

There is one genuinely accurate statement. In a fight, you do need to be very aware of what's going on around you. Everything else is the product of someone who's been punched in the head repeatedly until the CTEs got them thinking that boxing is analogous to a real fight in any way. (And, statistically, will probably end their career sitting in a jail cell over an aggravated assault charge, because their emotional self-control was completely destroyed by those same head injuries.)

The rules that boxers need to follow are designed to (somewhat) protect the participants. It reduces the dangers of a boxer being killed in the ring. In an observation that I would hope to be self-evident, those rules don't exist in actual combat.

It's also amusing, because the original Asker had to go so far as to single out an ill-defined, “traditional” boxing, because no other martial art they checked gave them the soundbite they wanted.

And, of course, women box. Historically, you could say, “traditionally,” there were even boxing matches between men and women. It wasn't until the 1880s that women were excluded from competitive boxing in the UK. (I'm not sure of the exact date when women were banned from boxing in the US, though that prohibition lasted for less than a century, before the modern return of women to the sport.)

So, either these “traditional instructors” don't know the history of their own sport... which doesn't sound particularly “traditional” to me, or they're full of shit.

My advice to everyone would be, maybe, don't take the advice of a sports coach about how he's secretly an absolute badass in all the delusional fantasies he's cooked up about how he'd like to inflict violence on others because they wouldn't date him.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[from-izzy]

[01:34] | nct na jaemin

Your ceiling fell.

pairing » nct na jaemin x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)​

trope/au » ​established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » boyfriend na jaemin who picks you up even though he's tired, summer is annoying to the reader (sorry, i'm really hating summer rn), fluffy fluff with a tinge of angst, clothes stealer reader!, but you never end up using it because you got too tired and fell asleep, i love na jaemin (can you tell?), reader is the little spoon, jaemin is so caring and cute (i'm in love with him), jaemin brushing his hand through your hair

word count, estimated reading time » 2496, ~9 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » jaemin is taller, outside clothes on the bed (i don't do this but it's cute here 😭 forgive me), oh...it's not proofread 😭

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

recently went back to my wips and found bits and pieces that could work together and meshed them together as best as i can 🤣 just whipped up this little thing whilst i was at it hehe

also, not going to be specific but will you believe if i said that this is based on a (my) true story? 🤠 it's been...messy 🤠 to say the least.

thank you for proofreading (when you're supposed to be focusing on school) @cupidjyu !! 💕

Your ceiling fell.

Well...

To be exact, there isn't a hole that lets the spiders and birds able to look down and see the base of your kitchen sink but when the inside surface of the roof fell, so did the insulator that kept the house warm during the frosty winter, and cool in the scorching summer. Because of the unstable roof condition, your whole family was wary of putting the air conditioning system on. The vibration from the machine and the sound waves themselves may be the little push it needs to send other parts of the roof crumbling.

You hate the hot weather so much.

In this period of the summer, when opening the windows was barely an option as it also let the heat through, it has been hard even to do anything remotely productive. With every move of your body, it generates heat and energy, which when mixed with the thirty-five-degree heat, all you want to do is lay on your bed and let the sweat evaporate off your skin with the help of your tower fan. That's how the mornings would go. Sometimes when you're not too tired from the previous day's work, you would go and take shelter in the library, turning confused heads when you would be wearing a jacket as overtime, it became too cold. 

The worst thing is that there has been no word from the insurance company or the people who could help to fix the hole in your ceiling. Unfortunately, it did fall during the peak holiday season but at this point, when it’s no longer the festive season, no one in your family understands what’s going on with the back-and-forth messy conversations to fix the issue. 

The past three months have been full of frustrating calls to your boyfriend but Jaemin has been picking up your phone call at the second time his ringtone rings, greeting you with that emphasising smile of his as he sees the layer of moisture on your face. At first, you tried to give him the best smile you could, but you eventually broke down after the first month, completely done with changing your clothes every day in every hour. Jaemin, though busy with his own responsibilities, never fails to take you out whenever he can, accompanying you in your aimless night time walks or accompanying you to the library where he would start reading a random book while you snooze on his shoulder. 

Today is one of the nights where you can’t handle sleeping in the house, too hot and uncomfortable for your eyes to even think about closing. You guiltily text Jaemin, asking if he’s able to have you over and within a few minutes, the black-haired arrives at your house, air conditioner blasting in his car and a genuine smile greeting you as soon as you step in. He waits outside his car with his oversized shirt and short pants; his usual summer attire. He kisses your frown away as soon as you rush into his arms, dropping your bag of clothes to the floor. His affectionate gaze for you grows, cupping your cheeks in his hands to hush you from the apologies that you would say for going out so late at night even though you insisted that the five-minute walk was fine to do.

“No,” Jaemin juts his lower lip to you adorably. “Not letting you do that!” He presses another quick peck on your lips that makes your cheeks heat up and makes you a stuttering mess. “I’m hungry! Let’s go grab some food first!”

You let out a knowing chuckle, shaking your head at him fondly as you know that just means another movie night that will go on until five am. To Jaemin, this is the best kind of date: the one that is unplanned but is planned at the same time. With the way that you’re literally having the worst summer ever as well, all he wants to do is to make sure that at least when you look back on this summer, you will remember his air conditioner blasting in his room. Bonus, the later you sleep, the more time you’ll have in a cooled, comfortable and private environment. 

But you know deep down, that you will always remember his warm, kind heart first out of all. 

With hands full of takeout from the nearest fast food to his house, Jaemin talks you through his list of movies that he wants to check out before you both fall asleep. He was so excited that he nearly missed the step up to his room, almost waking up the whole house with how his body would tumble down the staircase otherwise. But oh how much he would if it meant that you wouldn’t be crying on the humid, summer night.

"It's perfect, Jaem." 

You comment when Jaemin asks you about the temperature of his room and he gives you a relieved look, smiling in satisfaction to know your thoughts. Jaemin starts to unload the snacks in his arm on his study table, prompting you to do the same. He turns his sleeping laptop on, waiting for his device to start up.

In the meantime, his attention falls on you once more. "You must've been overwhelmed." His arm spreads open, silently asking if you would accept his gesture.

All you gave was a quiet hum and it momentarily worries him before you step to bury your head into his broad chest. You sigh into his perfect body temperature that balances the coolness trapped in the four walls. The corners of Jaemin’s lips rise as he starts shifting his body side to side, giving the hug a little more dynamic and comfort as he starts to sing your favourite tune to your ears. His fingers rake across your hair, not minding the whines and complaints you gave about how your hair is disgusting and oily, even pressing a kiss to your scalp to ease your worries. 

Your arms start to find home around his waist and your palm grips the fabric of the shirt even more, feeling eternally thankful for having a loving person in your life. A mutter, “Thank you for all this.” Your voice trails off, eyelids heavy and honestly, quiet snores could leave your lips at any moment now. 

“Always, bubs,” he muses back. “Maybe we can skip the movie night today?” 

The suggestion pulls your lips into a sour smile but you can’t hide the drowsiness in your system after getting small hours of sleep for the past week. “We have food.” But truly, it’s nothing that food can’t fix.

A raised eyebrow meets you when you slightly pull back to see the reaction on Jaemin’s face. “Food and horror movies.”

The shared favourite genre makes you break out into a genuine smile, excited for the movie marathon cuddled up in his bedsheets and the smell of food as you both expose yourself to the light from the computer until the sun replaces the moon. Jaemin watches you excitedly walk back to the door of his room where your bag slumps over on the wall next to the frame. 

“You don’t want to wear mine?” The suggestion is said with a smirk from him and your hands stopping to unzip your bag halfway. “Guess not!”

“No! I do!” You drag the last syllable out and when you turn to face him once more, Jaemin only lets out a teasing smile. “Let me steal!”

Indeed, Jaemin already has everything prepared for you, tilting his chin to his bed where some of his and your favourite hoodies are spread across the duvet. You spot the emerald green one, immediately jumping from your kneeling position on the floor and making the neat pile topple over at your eagerness. 

Jaemin feigns fake offence and an exaggerated gasp, “All my hard work!” He weeps to which you just roll your eyes as a response, continuing to take out your shower and night necessities to prepare for the night. 

“Alright.” A heavy sigh follows after, “I’m going to sho—”

But before you could take another step towards the bathroom, a pair of arms pulls you backwards, your back colliding with a chest that you know all too well. You can’t see the expression on his face but another thing that you know about Jaemin is when he leans down to press his cheek on yours, humming once more into your embrace, his cheeks are painted with hues of red and pink—his love for you overflowing from the simple back hug gesture.

“What you doing, Nana?” It deepens his blush, melting with how the nickname naturally sounds lovelier coming from you.

“Just go brush your teeth and shower in the morning.” He mumbles against your cheek. “I want to go on this movie marathon with you right now.”

“But you hate it the most when someone lays on your bed without washing up.” 

That’s also true. He does hate that a lot. 

The idea of outside germs reaching the place where he would be closing his eyes and be in another space for hours never fails to bring a scowl to his face and he always makes sure everyone who visits his space is aware of that fact.

But it’s you—and Jaemin loves you more to overlook that fact for a day.

“I’m planning on changing the sheets anyway.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “Plus, I literally get grease and pieces of chocolate on there anyways so I think I may need to change my mindset about that rule now…”

The mention of the substances makes you gasp, a similar one to the one he directed at you before. “Na Jaemin!” The playful slap on his arm only makes his hold against your body tighter, sending you both into a fit of laughter.

Amid the chaos you created, Jaemin makes his point clear with the previous topic, throwing himself still clad in his dirty clothes onto his bed and taking you down with him. You yelp at the sudden fall, throwing everything out of your hands to muffle the sound of your mouth, aware of the sleeping couple not too far away from this room. 

“Oops! Gotta change it tomorrow, I guess!”

“Na Jaemin, stop! I’m still going to shower anyway!”

So begins the shoving and wiggling for you to escape his strong grip on his bulky arms. You know shortly after running out of breath that it’s a better choice to rest your head on his pectoral, giving up on both the shower and possibly the movie night. The laughter dies down, but never the love that Jaemin shows for you. On the back of your head, you can feel his thumping heartbeat, the rhythm making your eyelids fall naturally.

Jaemin carefully slides you over to the mattress on his side, turning his body to face the girl he loves the most in this world. His eyelashes flutter quietly, quieter than the humming of the white rectangular machine stuck high onto his wall. He doesn’t bother waking you up, content with the tiny snores you let out through the small gap between your lips.

“And to think you were scolding me minutes ago.” Bopping your ice-cold nose with the pad of his pointer finger. “Okay, at this point you’re going to freeze.”

Though exhausted and body screaming to just fall asleep then and there, Jaemin pulls himself back to the edge of the bed, standing and stretching his four limbs. He quickly retreated to the connecting bathroom, picking up your discarded items that he made you toss to avoid his parents from waking up and scolding the young couple in love—though he knows they will just scold him given how much his parents adore everything about you.

Scared that you would soon wake up in the very uncomfortable posture that you have right now, more than half your feet dangling off the bed, Jaemin swiftly completes his night routine, skipping the one that would make his dentist question his habits but he pushed the thought aside for now. As quiet as he could, he makes his way over to your still peaceful figure. His knees sink into the bed, eyes observing you while he holds his breath to avoid any more unnecessary movements than the ones he’s making right now.

An arm lifts your upper body, and Jaemin quickly jumps behind you. You did stir a bit in your sleep when Jaemin undoes the noisy metal zipper of your jacket but nonetheless, he succeeded without bringing you back into full consciousness. In his head, he imagines himself doing a little celebratory dance under the shining disco ball, all the fluorescent light on him on the dance floor. Then, the same arm is placed on your upper back once more but now paired with his other arm tucked under the back of your knees. You quickly adjusted to the position, Jaemin raising your body high enough for you to relish in the remnants of his cologne on the crook of his neck. 

“I love you, Nana.” You confess to him earnestly. “I love you so much…”

Jaemin stands on one side of the bed, scanning the curves of your face intently as if he has never noticed the small mole on the slope of your nose. He couldn’t fight off the want to steal another kiss from you, bending his neck down to slot his soft ones to hug your plump ones. A satisfied hum is brought out after, Jaemin mirroring your content heart with another lingering press on your forehead.

Soon enough, your body is finally between his bouncy mattress and his weighted polyester. Immediately, your hands roam over to the other side of the bed where Jaemin would usually be, groaning when all you felt was the crinkles of the cotton that is not his shirt.

“Okay, okay. I’m here.” He assures the dissatisfaction painted on your face first by flicking the light switch off and then by wrapping your smaller frame into his own. 

The muscles of your whole body relax for the first time in a while at the thought of going to dreamland—maybe it’s the Jaemin effect. A hand makes its way to the curve of your head, fingertips half-buried into your strands. A slight gush of wind can be felt on your nose but you don’t mind the proximity, even continuing to scoot even closer, pleased with the hand on your lower back that pushes you in closer. 

“Sleep tight.” His eyes landed on the brown bag across the room and his muted laptop that plays your favourite comfort movie. He lets the movie play, strategically moving his forearm to block the blue light emitted. When he confirms that his shadow falls upon your lids, he places the lightest kiss as a final ‘goodnight’. “I love you.”

So maybe, you don’t hate the hot weather as much as you thought.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

[seancekitsch]

Vox from Hazbin Hotel x siren! reader?? PLEASEE i love this concept sm-

i think i accidentally created myself an oc, also, if you spot the showgirls reference ill give you a cookie, this is inspired by the general flavor of moulin rouge and showgirls

“What the FUCK?!” you all but screech, throwing your blush frustratedly at your vanity. The small compact hits the cool marble, and immediately the product with the pan shatters, ruined. It was expensive. Fuck. 

“I- I don’t know what happened…” Jinni, a succubus, your assistant and opening act, stutters from the door. Scared. 

You deflate, rolling your eyes as you calm yourself and stop scaring the girl. You have to remember to stop raging near her. She’s young, too young. 

Overlords in the club mean a good tip, mean security, mean you and girls like Jinni make rent safely and have some fun money to toss around as well. You practically fall into your chair, yank a fake eyelash off as you sigh, ready to put on the next pair for your closing number. 

“There’s gotta be some reason the voice didn’t work on him,” you say, “I’m gonna find out why.”

“Are you sure thats a good idea?” Jinni asks, her tail curling around one of her legs. You have a soft spot for the girl, you really do. A place like this is gonna tear her apart; or at least, it would if you didn’t immediately take her under your wing. You pat the little chair beside you, and wrap your arms around the girl as soon as she takes the spot. 

You both stare at each other’s eyes through the mirror, sweat and make up blurred against your complexions, a reassuring smile spreads across your face. 

“I’ll check and see if he has the VIP package, and pull out the damsel in distress act,” you tell the little succubus, now cheek to cheek with her.  She smiles at you through the mirror, knowing full well you’re ready to ham it up.

“Thats your best one,” she says, and comes closer to pick up a body glitter for you. Jinni leans on the chair behind you, resting her forearms on your shoulders. You gaze at her while your hand moves with the brush across your face, at this point muscle memory kicks in, flawless. She’s why you still play nice, you think. 

“Gonna make sure you don’t have to go back to doggy chow for dinner,” you chide as you finish up your new look, a bit more dewy and innocent looking, as you shake her off and grab a lace robe to walk backstage in. Jinni laughs, and then takes your seat to take off her own make up. 

You’ve done this walk thousands of times, the long dimly lit hallway, all of the girls rooms hidden behind flimsy curtains and makeshift doors, signed by girls current and long since past. Your feet feel light below you, though nerves course through your veins. The patrons cheering is almost quieted here, all the quiet white noise that sets you ablaze in excitement and anticipation for another performance. 

But before the end of the hall can be reached, a meaty hand comes out to stop you, wrapping around your bicep. 

“Outta my way, Flicker, I gotta tell the sound guy to switch my track,” You turn your head away from the stage manager, not willing to take a face full of his calamari breath.  

“You ain’t goin’ out there again tonight,” he explains, “Got a private booking with a big spender.”

You sigh, right, just what you needed right now. You wish you could shoot a quick text to Jinni but… your phone is back in your dressing room with her. She’ll have to fair without you until this is over. 

“Right now?” you meet his eyes, and you can tell he wanted you in there five minutes ago. Shit. Well, here goes the girls' good tips for the night, you sigh, and turn towards the stairwell that leads you up to the private boxes. 

These rooms are gross; there’s no way to sugar coat it. You hate private bookings, much preferring to dance on the floor with any high spending patrons, giving them the girlfriend experience while you have the added safety of being able to slip away. These private rooms don't even have walls, more like private theater boxes so the managers can make sure you're keeping the clients happy. Up here, your talents are much more obvious, much harder to avoid blame.

You wonder what this guy will want. A champagne pour? A strip tease? Or worst of all, a dry hump or an over the pants job? You’d hate for this asshole to fuck up your costume or make up. That shits not cheap down here, and you only hope that after this private booking the overlord in the back of the hall might have loosened up and opened his wallets to one of the other girls or the house. 

But it still digs at you, like an old wound you cannot help but pick at… that your voice didn’t work on—

Him.

Its him. You can see through the sheer curtain the overlord in a suit. An old fashioned in his hand as he leans against the railing, the finale of the show tonight kicking into full gear below, all of the patrons like dogs on leashes waiting to be released to dance and party with the girls until dawn once the stage is clear. 

“Oh, Sir!” you call to him as you pull back the curtain, your flimsy robe fluttering behind you, “What is a man of your caliber doing in a place like this?”

Maybe you’re laying it on a little thick with the sultry little voice and the innocent act, but that’s what the men pay you for. He turns quickly, as if he didn’t expect you here so soon, but his smile quickly grows, teeth glowing against the low lighting of the private box. 

“What do you mean?” HIs voice is smooth as butter, “Is a man of MY caliber not supposed to admire beautiful things? Consider me a patron of the arts.”

You lounge yourself on one of the couches, effortlessly parting the bottom of your robe, kicking your legs up, really giving him a show. The boning of your costume digs into your ribs, but you don’t move. You always win over the higher spenders by laying out the feast for them. 

“Is that so?” you ask, a fake demure giggle leaving your lips, “Well then consider me confused, because you didn’t look so happy during my number earlier.”

The glow of his eyes distracted you, both out on stage earlier and now. His gaze intense, his posture rigid. 

“Maybe,” he trails off, crossing the little box until he’s in reach. One of his large hands wraps around your ankle, and then carelessly yanks your ankle off the couch to force you sitting upright. Okay, you’re only a little offended. Moreso intrigued by his seemingly complete lack of attraction to you. You drop your robe from one shoulder, baring more skin to entice him. Men are men, after all. He moves to sit at the other end of the couch. Maybe not all is lost, you think, as you pour a glass of champagne from the side table. The girl they threw on stage instead of you is killing this performance from what you can tell, and you know she’ll finish strong by the aerial rig set up and ready to go for her. You sip your glass as he sips his, and lean in closer to him, hoping that a little more proximity to him will help you figure out his deal. 

“But maybe I’m more wondering what the fuck someone like you is doing here,” he sneers as he stands, leaving you falling sideways into the space he vacated, nearly spilling your glass. 

“I- I beg your pardon?” you splutter, the sultry voice gone for a moment as you check to make sure you didn’t waste a drop of champagne on your robe.

“And stop with the agreeable little whore act, you can talk to me,” he winks at you as he says it,  red glowing eye rimmed with teal. You sigh as you brush yourself off from both he physical and metaphorical stumble. Okay, what does he know?

“Someone like me?” you ask, your real voice now dripping through. 

“Someone with power, darling,” The overlord says as if it’s obvious, “Someone with a talent like mine.”

He finishes his drink, and tosses the glass over the railing into the patrons gallery below.

“I could use someone with talents like yours,” he says, and your blood runs cold. You know what overlords mean when they say that. Your eyes dart to the curtain, to the hallway. If you shouted, would Flicker hear you? Wait- What are you thinking? He doesn’t give a rats ass about his girls’ safety. 

You do the only thing you can, you open your mouth to sing.

“Ah ah ah, nope,” he holds up a finger to silence you before you can begin, “That won’t work.”

You close your mouth, open it, close it again. 

“How did you know?”

If he knows, he can tell. If he tells, you lose money. Girls back on the street, you without a plan here.

His scowl turns to a smile, his eyes glowing brighter, circular rimming pulsating within his sclera. A funny tickle passes over you, as if he was blowing on you, gentle and odd. You furrow your brow, and then your jaw drops. You get it now. 

“Oh, Sir!” you play it up, ‘agreeable little whore’ voice as he called it back in full force, “I didn’t realize we were so evenly matched!” 

“I’m glad the smartest girl in this joint is also the prettiest,” he flirts, walking back over to the couch until he’s leaning on the arm of it. 

“How were you thinking of spending the evening mister…?” You stick to script if you trail off, not wanting to ask him outright what he wanted, now that you know what you’re dealing with.

He crackles, static, his glow dimming momentarily.

“Vox, darling. Where are my manners?” he finally introduces himself as he reaches over you for the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket and the other glass. He knows this game too, you realize, as his cologne wafts over you; something rich and woodsy. Attractive and expensive. 

“I’d like to offer my patronage, to your little,” he gestures around with the empty flute before pouring it, “artistic endeavors personally.”

That would be nice. A steady patron would mean steady money, steady numbers and acts, a bigger costume budget. His lap doesn't seem like a bad one to be perched on.

“Thats very generous, Mister Vox,” you say, holding out your glass for him to top it off, “But I can’t help but wonder what you want in return?”

His smile changes, less sharp, more real as he moves the neck of the bottle to your glass. He looks you up and down, scrutinizing every detail. 

“Your voice,” he goes on to explain, “For some important events, some advertising. I can make you a star, darling.”

It dawns on you that he hasn’t even asked your name, but then again you also weren’t going to give a client your real name. The entire idea is attractive, desirable. The patronage of a handsome powerful man, a legitimate name for yourself in the entertainment industry, security.

You reach upward clink your glass against his, urging him to clink yours back.

“You’ll have to win me over with a dance,” you tease him, your lips curling into a downright vicious smile. 

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 8 - More intimate than lovers ☄️

Tags : oblivious Ahsoka, injured Obi-Wan, lots of fluff

~~~

“Get out of the way ! Kriff, move !”

The poor assistant who had the extravagant idea of crossing the corridor with a cart full of medical products - doing her job - at the same time Anakin barges in, gasps loudly and pulls on the handle of her cart with all her strength, avoiding the running Jedi from a hair.

“I'm so sorry, General !” She squeals in horror, but Anakin is already too far away to hear her apologies.

He sprints down the hallway, the soles of his boots skidding and squeaking on the smooth ground at every turn. He's almost out of breath when he storms in the landing hangar, eyes wide as he searches for one specific spaceship.

The Negotiator is parked in the middle of the hangar, the main door already opened on the bridge where clone troopers are offloading some heavy crates.

“Obi-Wan !” Anakin calls, slipping through the crowd while his eyes are scanning the ship’s surroundings for the older Jedi. “Excuse me. Sorry.”

Obi-Wan’s Force signature is very weak, too weak for him to locate him precisely, even when he tries to follow the thin golden thread of their bond.

“Damn it.” He swears when he can’t find him anywhere, panic slowly rising in his chest and curling around his lungs.

He runs to the bridge of the ship, searching for a familiar face, anyone who was on that kriffing mission and could tell him where Obi-Wan is.

“General Skywalker !” Someone calls for him from behind, making him turn around.

He’s relieved to be faced with Cody’s dark buzzcut and moon-shaped scar, someone who’s supposed to know where Obi-Wan is at all times. Someone so loyal Anakin trusts him with Obi-Wan’s life. Someone who knows him too. He doesn’t even need to ask questions, he just tilts his head to the left.

“He’s in the medical bay.”

“Thank you, Cody.” Anakin replies gratefully before running away to the new location.

He crosses the distance in less than five minutes, mumbling apologies every time he pushes someone on his way. Ahsoka is already waiting outside in the corridor, pacing left and right until she hears him coming like a tornado.

She winces and walks to him before he can storm in the emergency room, hands reaching out for him.

“He’s fine.” Is the first thing she says because she knows him so well. “You can't enter.”

Maybe she doesn’t know him that well after all.

“I don't care.”

“I know you don’t.” She rolls her eyes and grabs his arm when he reaches out for the door. “But you have to let the doctors do their job.”

“I need to see him.” Anakin breathes, removing his arm from his padawan’s grip, gently but firmly enough to warn her from not trying to stop him again.

Ahsoka considers him for a while, taking in his laborious breathing that couldn’t be blamed on his running only, his wide and scared eyes and the way his fingers twitched nervously, aggressively picking at the skin around his nails. He could have said he wanted to see Obi-Wan, but he didn't.

It’s a need. She truly realizes then.

“You’ll have to wait a bit.” She still says, gently taking his hand in his own. “I promise it won’t take long.”

“It’s already too long.” Anakin groans, his signature hanging low like a menacing cloud around him in the Force.

“He's okay, Skyguy.” Ahsoka insists, intertwining her fingers with his own to prevent him from damaging his skin even more. “He was still talking when he was admitted. You know he's tough.”

“Maybe.” Anakin mumbles. “I should have been with him.”

“You can’t be with him all the time.” Ahsoka says patiently.

“Why not ?” Anakin huffs, and Ahsoka smiles before she understands it’s a real question.

“Because… Because you’re both really important for the Republic and we need you to lead our men. They can't afford to waste time by sending you both on the same missions every time.”

Anakin doesn’t answer but she can tell by his expression that he’s not satisfied with the explanation. She wonders how he manages to be separated from Obi-Wan so often on a daily basis. Not well apparently, given his current level of anxiety is through the roof.

She opens her mouth to reassure him when the emergency room’s door opens. A tall woman with very light blonde hair pulled tight in a perfect bun walks out with a fold in his hand.

“Ahsoka Tano ?” She asks, and Anakin uses this exact moment to slip through the door. “Eh, wait !”

“Sorry.” Ahsoka winces apologetically at the doctor. “He’s very worried.”

“Visitors are not allowed.” The woman says with pinched lips. “Is he family ?”

“Uh, kind of.” Ahsoka replies.

She thinks for a second about the right term to describe Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship and she realizes she has none. They’re closer than a Master and his former Padawan were supposed to be, more than friends, even closer than brothers. She never knew one without the other and she didn't wish to know.

“Kind of ?” The doctor lifts a delicate eyebrow, looking at her with a mix of skepticism and annoyance.

“Yeah, well. You should thank me for still having a door, because Anakin doesn’t bother with that kind of details when it's comes to Obi-Wan.” Ahsoka smiles and bypasses her to enter into the room.

The sight she finds makes her stop on the doorstep with the impression of interrupting something precious she wasn’t meant to see. Anakin is sitting on the edge of the bed where Obi-Wan lies with his forehead pressed against his, gently holding his hands as they whisper quietly to each other.

From where she is she can see that Obi-Wan is smiling, wide and bright in spite of the bandages around his chest and the blood covering one side of his face.

“Family, mh ?” The doctor’s voice resonates quietly beside her, making Ahsoka turn halfway.

“They’re very close.” She retorts, feeling defensive without really knowing why.

“I thought attachment was prohibited amongst Jedi.” The woman still continues but her tone is gentler than earlier, devoid of any judgement. “They look… Intimate.”

Ahsoka blushes at the implication and shakes her head.

“They’re not… It’s not like that. They just care a lot about each other.”

“Sure.” The doctor smiles before leaving her at the door to go check on the other patients of the room.

Ahsoka frowns, confused. She couldn’t find the right words to explain the very special bond between her two masters but it didn’t mean that it was like that woman implied. It couldn’t be. She would have noticed by now. Or whould she ?

She squints at the two Jedi still completely immerged in their own little world, talking to each other like they were all alone. She’s so used to this that she can't see it as anything else than Anakin and Obi-Wan’s normal behaviour toward each other. They’re constantly gravitating in each other’s orbit, looking for each other, touching each other, evolving like they’re in their own private bubble.

It can be annoying sometimes, sure. Especially when one of them comes back injured from a mission and she has to calm down and reassure the other. They might be a little bit obsessed with each other, alright. But it doesn’t hurt anyone, does it ? Caring deeply is not against the Jedi precepts, only unhealthy attachments. And when she looks at them what she sees, burning brighter than any star is-

Unconditional love. She thinks. That’s it. That’s what they have for each other.

Clearing her throat to announce her presence, she walks to them, witnessing the way they turn their head at the same time to look at her. Anakin’s eyes and cheeks are a little wet but he does nothing to hide it from her. She takes it as a precious sign of trust.

“So…?” She smirks when she sits on the other side of the bed. “What is the score this time, Master ?”

Obi-Wan snorts and winces just after, putting a hand on his ribcage.

“Three broken ribs.” He sighs. “Nothing a little rest can’t fix.”

“You forget about the concussion.” Anakin says, rolling his eyes. “And the fact that one of your ribs punctured your lung.”

“Details.” Obi-Wan mumbles. “I’m fine.”

He looks back at Anakin’s skeptical expression, face softening with such tenderness that Ahsoka looks away with a blush.

“I’m fine.”

“You say that each time.” Anakin grumbles. “And each time you come back even more broken.”

“Jealous that I wear scars better than you ?” Obi-Wan teases, making Ahsoka laugh.

“At least you don’t look like a stupid pirate because you fell on the freshener, Master Kenobi.” She sneaks in.

“You little sh-” Anakin starts but he’s stopped by Obi-Wan’s hand on his mouth.

“Language, Padawans !”

Anakin looks at Obi-Wan and does something that makes the older Jedi retrieve his hand quickly while a little blush spreads on his cheeks.

Weirdos.

“Alright, I’m very glad to see that you’re doing fine, Master.” Ahsoka says before getting up. “I’m gonna go finish Skyguy’s report because something tells me he’s not going to move from here before a while.”

Anakin, very maturely, sticks his tongue at her.

“Look how I am rewarded for my generosity.” She complains to Obi-Wan, and the traitor has the audacity to laugh.

But not for long because he's quickly reminded about his broken ribs. Some calls it karma.

“Thank you for coming, little ‘Soka.” The older Jedi smiles softly once he’s done wincing in pain. “And for teaching this one some manners about breaking doors.”

“No problem, Sir.” She smiles, giving them both a little salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As soon as she turns around she can feel their bond tighten again between each other in the Force. And if the reflection on the glass door makes it look like they’re sharing a quick, secretive kiss, it’s probably her imagination playing tricks on her.

[ltash]

The Bodyguard pt-1

Part 2 & 3 link in the end.

SimonGhostRileyxfemalereader

The boardroom was sleek, modern, and imposing, with dark wood panelling and a sprawling glass table. Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp shadows across the faces of the people who had slowly filed in, each flashing rehearsed smiles in your direction. You leaned back in your chair, absentmindedly chewing on the end of a sleek silver pen, your eyes sharp, taking in every movement, every fake expression.

Five guards stood silently behind you, their presence a subtle but unmistakable reminder of your authority. You were untouchable here, or at least, that's what you needed them to believe. As the CEO and heiress of Aventis Pharmaceuticals, a company built on generational influence, you knew there were black sheep lurking within your empire. You could feel it in the way certain board members avoided your gaze, shifting uncomfortably under your silent scrutiny.

"Let's get started," you said, your voice calm but unyielding as you set the pen down, giving each person a measured look. "I need the details on the latest antinarcotic project we're working on."

There was a pause before the head of R&D, Dr. Marcus Lewin cleared his throat. He looked pale, though you couldn't tell if it was the lighting or nerves. "Ah... of course, Miss Aventis," he began, shuffling some papers before him. "We're in the third phase of clinical trials now. The formula has shown promising results, minimal side effects, with a faster recovery rate compared to the last version."

You raised an eyebrow, watching him squirm slightly. "Minimal side effects?" you repeated. "We're aiming for a groundbreaking product, Dr. Lewin. I expect 'minimal' to be an understatement."

"Yes, of course," he stammered, nodding vigorously. "I, uh, apologize. We're working on further improvements. There's also some data regarding efficacy rates in the latest testing group. I can forward the specifics to you."

You leaned forward slightly, your gaze hardening. "Forward them to me? Dr. Lewin, I'd prefer a comprehensive update now from you. Or are there... issues you'd rather not discuss here?"

A few other board members shifted uncomfortably, casting sidelong glances at one another. But Dr. Lewin managed a stiff smile. "No issues, Miss Aventis. We've been gathering the results carefully. We're confident we can meet the expected deadline and provide a full report for you to review."

You nodded slowly, letting the silence stretch. "Good. I expect nothing less. And, just to be clear," you said, glancing around the table at the assembled members, "I don't tolerate surprises. If there are any... discrepancies, now is the time to disclose them. Otherwise, I expect total transparency."

A hush fell over the room.

Your gaze shifted to Martin Hayes, the company's CFO, a man known for his sharp financial acumen and, at times, slippery ethics. He sat across the table, his fingers tapping nervously against his folder. He offered a tight, polite smile as he looked up to meet your eyes.

"And about our deal with that company?" you asked, your voice cool, with just a hint of impatience.

Martin cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. "Yes, of course, Miss Aventis. The partnership with Arcadia Biotech is progressing as planned. We've secured favourable terms for both manufacturing and distribution, ensuring a significant reduction in costs while increasing production capabilities."

You tilted your head, studying him. "And Arcadia is still unaware of our... competitive projects?"

He hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, but you didn't miss it. "They're completely in the dark," he assured quickly. "We've kept all sensitive projects under strict confidentiality clauses. As far as Arcadia is concerned, they're our exclusive partners in the development and distribution of the existing narcotic treatments."

You tapped your fingers against the table. "Good. I'd like a written assurance from you that our proprietary research won't leak. If Arcadia or any other competitor even hints at knowing about our new product, I'll know who to turn to, won't I, Martin?"

The colour drained slightly from his face. "Absolutely, Miss Aventis. You have my word; I'll have our legal team draft an ironclad document."

"See that you do." You leaned back, giving him a faint smile as if to relieve the tension just slightly. "And remember, gentlemen and ladies," you added, letting your gaze roam around the table, "we're here to lead the industry-not to compete in petty games. I expect only the highest standards of loyalty and discretion."

A murmur of agreement filled the room, the board members nodding.

You leaned forward, placing both hands on the table, and fixed each board member with a piercing stare. The boardroom fell silent, the tension thick in the air.

"Also, remember this," you said, your voice low but unwavering. "I am more than capable of running my father's company. Each of you is here because you're shareholders, yes, but let's not mistake that for immunity."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed a few faces, and you didn't miss a beat.

"If I find out that anyone here has tampered with our formulas, compromised our products, or made any attempt to sabotage the reputation of Aventis Pharma..." You let the threat hang in the air for a moment, letting them feel the weight of your words. "Then you'll all be sinking with me. I won't hesitate to bring down every last one of you along with this company if it comes to that."

Martin Hayes shifted uncomfortably, his collar suddenly seeming a little too tight. Dr. Lewin was looking down at his notes, his jaw clenched, while a few others exchanged uneasy glances.

"Now," you continued, sitting back but keeping your gaze sharp, "let's ensure that it never comes to that. We are all on the same side, or we should be. Our success is your success. I expect complete loyalty to the vision my father built and entrusted me to lead."

You let the silence settle, watching them absorb your message. Finally, you smiled, but it was a smile of steel. "Any questions?"

No one spoke up, and you nodded in satisfaction. The boardroom felt smaller, suddenly less crowded with ambition and more attuned to your authority.

The boardroom cleared, and with a curt nod, you dismissed the meeting. Rising from your seat, you walked out with purposeful strides, your five bodyguards falling in line behind you, each scanning the area, their presence, an unspoken wall of security. You exited the building and moved toward the parking lot, where the air was still and quiet, almost eerily so.

Your eyes drifted to a Hummer parked discreetly in the far corner. It felt out of place, like a shadow that didn't belong. You slipped into your sleek sports car, the engine purring to life, but an uneasy feeling gnawed at you. Suddenly, figures emerged from the darkness, men with sharp eyes and cold expressions, each one wielding M14 rifles. Diego Garcia's assassins. The Hummer door stayed shut, but you caught a glimpse of Garcia himself watching from within, his gaze locked on you.

Before you could react, a hail of bullets erupted. Your heart thundered as your bodyguards sprang into action, returning fire, but the assassins moved with ruthless precision. In moments, one by one, your guards went down, each man fighting until his last breath but hopelessly outnumbered. You watched in horror, paralyzed as they fell, each life extinguished in seconds. You barely registered your own scream, choked by terror and fury, as the sounds of gunfire faded, leaving only silence and blood.

Your hands fumbled, trying to unlock the doors, but they were stuck, trapping you in the vehicle like a helpless bystander in a nightmare. You felt your pulse race as the shadows closed in, and then Diego was there, standing right outside your window, his face illuminated in the dim parking lot light. He smiled, a dark, twisted smile that sent chills through you.

"Mine," he whispered through the glass, his voice laced with malice and satisfaction.

A wave of dizziness overtook you, and everything spun. His words echoed in your mind as your vision blurred. Helpless and horrified, you slipped into unconsciousness, the last image seared into your memory: Diego's face, and that sinister smile that promised nothing but darkness.

A week had passed since the attack, but the memory of it still haunted you, flickering at the edge of your thoughts as you sat on the plush velvet sofa in your expansive drawing room. Sunlight poured through the towering windows, casting a warm glow over the gleaming marble floors and the breathtaking view of the Los Angeles skyline stretched beyond, grounding you in the opulence of your mansion. The faint hum of a helicopter faded as it settled on the rooftop, carrying with it your new bodyguard: Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, a man whose reputation preceded him.

The sound of heavy boots echoed through the hallways, each step precise and deliberate, growing closer until the double doors swung open. You rose from the sofa, instinctively straightening your posture as the figure of Ghost entered the room, his presence consuming it instantly. He was massive, towering over you at 6'4", his muscular frame stretching the fabric of his black t-shirt, every inch of him exuding strength and danger. His broad chest and shoulders were carved with the kind of power that comes only from a life on the battlefield, and his thick, muscular thighs tested the seams of his black cargo pants. A holstered firearm rested against his leg, a stark reminder of the deadly world you were stepping into.

But it was his eyes that struck you the hardest. Deep brown and unwavering, they locked onto yours with an intensity that felt almost physical, as if they could see straight through every secret you held. A skull-patterned bandana covered most of his face, concealing his expression, but his gaze was enough, it was fierce, calculating, and unyielding. His buzz-cut hair, a dirty blonde, caught a hint of sunlight, and a jagged scar traced down his left temple, the brutal souvenir of battles fought and survived.

The contrast between the two of you felt almost surreal, his raw, masculine power against your delicate, fragile beauty. At just five feet tall, your frame seemed almost dainty by comparison, a striking contrast of elegance and strength. The soft material of your dress hugged your figure, emphasizing the curve of your waist and your petite, curvy form, while your brown, doe-like eyes met his with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"This is Ghost, ma'am," he nodded, his voice low, gravelly, resonant. The sound of it sent a shiver down your spine, filling the room as thoroughly as his presence did.

You hesitated, caught off guard by his intensity, before extending your hand. "Lieutenant Riley," you greeted, your voice steady even as you took in every detail of the man before you. "I've heard a lot about you."

He accepted your hand, his grip firm and respectful, but his eyes stayed sharp and assessing, as if already calculating every risk, every angle of protection.

"Welcome to my mansion. How was your journey?" you asked, settling yourself elegantly on the velvet couch, your posture flawless.

"The journey was fine, ma'am," he replied, his deep voice rumbling through the room. He took a step closer, crossing his arms, his gaze intense and assessing. "The view from the landing pad is quite something, too."

You felt his eyes linger, moving over you, taking in the details of your petite frame and the way your bodycon dress clung to your curves. He tried to keep his focus professional, but it was hard not to notice the finer details.

"Tea, coffee, or whiskey?" you offered.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Whiskey," he replied without hesitation, his gaze still fixed on you.

With a small nod, you rose from the sofa and moved to the bar across the room, reaching for the bottle of Kentucky bourbon. His eyes tracked your every movement, lingering on the bare skin between the thin straps of your dress. The dress hugged your form perfectly, and though he kept his face stoic, his attention remained unwavering as you poured the amber liquid into a glass.

You turned, holding the glass in your hand, and extended it to him. He stepped forward, his calloused fingers wrapping around the glass, brushing lightly against yours. The brief contact sent a jolt up your arm, but his face revealed nothing, not a hint of reaction. He lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow, measured sip, all the while keeping his gaze steady on you.

You leaned back onto the plush sofa, crossing your legs elegantly, watching as he brought the glass of bourbon to his lips, taking a slow sip without breaking eye contact. The slight tension in the room was palpable, each of you sizing up the other, feeling out the boundaries of this unfamiliar relationship.

"So," you murmured, a faint hint of curiosity in your tone, "you wear the skull mask, Ghost..."

His eyes narrowed slightly above the edge of his mask, a flicker of irritation passing through them. He lowered the glass, studying you in silence for a moment before he replied, his tone even. "It's part of the job," he said. "Helps me keep things... impersonal. No one gets to see my face."

You tilted your head, not breaking his gaze. "Not even me?" you asked softly, a subtle challenge in your voice. "Not even the person you're here to protect?"

There was a beat of silence, his eyes dark and unreadable behind the mask. For a moment, you thought he might look away or ignore the question altogether. But then he spoke, his tone a shade more guarded. "Protection is about distance, ma'am. Masks help with that. It's not personal, just how I keep a clear line between my duty and... everything else."

You took a slow breath, absorbing his words. "Clear lines, huh?" You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand as you studied him, his formidable frame, his stoic face, the shadows that clung to him. "Is that what works best for you, Lieutenant? No attachments, no faces, just the mission?"

He held your gaze, unflinching. "It's what's kept me alive." His answer was calm, unwavering, as though he'd thought it through many times before.

You nodded, acknowledging the harsh reality he lived by. "Well, I suppose I can respect that," you replied, your voice soft but thoughtful. "But you should know, Ghost, this won't be a typical mission. There are things at play here that... don't fit within clear lines."

He didn't respond, but his intense gaze on you seemed to deepen, like he was silently bracing himself for the unknown. Finally, he gave a slight nod, the barest hint of understanding in his eyes.

"Understood," he said, his tone low and resolute. And in that moment, you realized that, for all the distance he wanted to maintain, his presence, steady and unyielding, was exactly what you needed.

"Diego Garcia," you said, your voice quiet but resolute. "The Santiago Cartel."

Ghost's expression darkened. The name carried weight, a reputation steeped in violence. "Diego Garcia," he repeated, his tone grim. "Powerful, ruthless, no ordinary drug lord."

"He's bigger than Valeria Garza. More dangerous than El Sin Nombre."

Ghost's gaze was sharp, intense. "I know. Santiago Cartel is one of the deadliest in Mexico, and Garcia's the head of the snake."

"He's after me," you admitted, feeling the weight of the words as they left your lips.

Ghost's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"My company produces anti-narcotics," you explained. "We sell the cure. He sells the poison."

Recognition flickered in his eyes. "You're cutting into his profits," he said, understanding dawning. "You make him look weak."

"We're about to launch a new antidote," you continued. "One that blocks the effects of drugs like cocaine, fentanyl. It's still in testing, but it'll be on the market soon."

He nodded slowly, processing it. "The cartel won't let that happen. They'll do whatever it takes to stop you."

You felt a shiver at his words but pushed on. "He's already killed for it. My bodyguards... I watched them die, right in front of me."

A muscle tightened in Ghost's jaw. "He killed them in front of you," he said, his voice low, edged with anger. "Bastard doesn't play by any rules."

"He sent his men. They were armed with M14 rifles. My men didn't stand a chance."

His expression grew grim. "M14s. No wonder your guards didn't make it."

"Laswell suggested you," you continued, watching him closely. "She said if anyone could handle Garcia, it'd be you."

He met your gaze, a flicker of confidence in his eyes. "She's not wrong. I've dealt with men like him before." His voice was calm, unshaken. "And I'll take him down.

"Let me show you around," you said, motioning for him to follow.

Ghost nodded. "Lead the way."

The mansion was sleek and modern, blending luxury with privacy. As you walked through the marble driveway, you passed the tall, solid wooden door into the living room, its polished granite floors gleaming in the light. To the left, a door opened to the swimming pool area, surrounded by greenery. Above, a glass skywalk connected the house, offering a view of the water below.

A spiral staircase led to the second floor where your master bedroom and its luxurious bathroom were located, complete with a Jacuzzi and a high-tech shower. The back lawn opened up to the underground parking area.

As you walked, Ghost took in everything with a sharp, calculating gaze. The mansion wasn't just a home, it was a fortress. Every detail, from the barbed wire to the strategic location, was a reminder of the protection it offered.

"Like what you see?" you asked, watching his reaction.

Ghost's expression was unreadable, but his voice was steady. "It's secure," he said, eyes flicking over the property. "More than most would need."

"It's still smaller than other mansions here," you countered.

"Smaller, yes. But more secure," he said. "Most billionaires settle for an alarm system. You went further."

"The reason I don't go bigger is security," you replied. "I know Diego could breach it, but it's L.A. He'd think twice."

Ghost nodded. "Smart. L.A.'s dangerous, but Garcia would hesitate."

"Good. Let him be intimidated. Makes my job easier."

He shifted his attention back to you. "What about inside? Armed guards?"

"Outside," you said. "The perimeter's covered."

He raised an eyebrow. "Inside?"

"You..." you trailed off, letting him fill in the rest.

Part 2

Part 3

Pic credit: VhenanVirabelasan

https://www.instagram.com/vhenan_virabelasan?igsh=MWpmdnVzaXN5czYyZg==

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 14- Homesick

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: I've been consuming a lot of Dr. House lately. Now I want to write a Dr. House AU with the cod characters.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH20.), Dual POV

You pace around the carpeted office. Ignoring the dull ache climbing up your calf. It's good to work the muscle, otherwise it will weaken and shrink. Valeria sighs after your fourth lap and looks up at you.

"If you need something to do you can work on this stack of paperwork." She remarks dryly. You look back at her, eyes briefly drifting down to her lips before rising back up to her eyes. You can still taste the smoke in your mouth.

The last thing you want to do is sit down and do more paperwork. If you do more paperwork, you are sure you'll go mad. It's so mind numbingly boring. Your thoughts drift back to the lab and what you did in the lab. Mixing and measuring chemicals. That's what you want to be doing. Not playing assistant to Valeria. You're above personal assistance.

"How long until we have the new lab set up?" You ask. Deciding to sit down when the pain starts to become borderline unbearable. Valeria's lips thin warningly.

"Not for a while," She says. "the explosion destroyed everything, including the space. I still need to find somewhere else to put all that new, expensive machinery."

 

Her pointed words have their intended effect. You're aware that you messed up. You're still actively suffering from the consequences of your carelessness. You give your leg a small shake. Still suffering, even if you're healing quickly.

"I know." You say. "I'm sorry."

Valeria scoffs. "I'm sure you are." She says, looking back down at her work. She rests her forehead on her palm, clearly also finding the work to be boring and life sucking.

"... So about El Paso." You murmur.

She glares at you. "Enough about El Paso. Quit bothering me about it." 

The group still hasn't returned. Valeria told you she wouldn't come up with a plan until they did, but you know her well enough to know she already has something brewing in her head. There's always a plan when Valeria is involved. She should be involving you as well. It concerns you as much as it does her. 

"I know you have something, Valeria." You say. "I'm your cook, and currently the one handling your paperwork. Tell me."

"You've done maybe five pages of paperwork over the course of a couple weeks." She growls. "You haven't done anything useful since you injured yourself."

Valeria's voice is harsh and full of irritation. 

"That's not true." You frown. "I organize your files, and I've done more than just five pages."

Valeria leans forward in her chair. Eyes narrowed. "No, you haven't. I don't know if it's because you genuinely can't go any faster or if you're too stupid to do paperwork without having to re-read the same document five times just to understand it."

You stare at her. Caught off guard by her abrupt rudeness. "I'm not stupid." You reply defensively.

"Are you sure?" She raises her brows. "Because you keep acting like I won't replace you."

Valeria got up close to your face and held your jaw in her warm hands. She looked into your eyes and blew smoke into your mouth. She's reassured you when you were low only to tear you down again. You don't understand it. It's like she gets a sort of satisfaction from puppeteering your feelings. 

"I'm starting to understand why no one ever wants to hang around you." You say shortly. You see her gaze darken but you continue anyway. Not at all worried about her hurting you. "If this is how you treat your friends, I'd be shocked to learn you still have any."

"I am not your friend." Valeria snaps.

"No, you're not." You snap back. You stand, not wanting to be in the same room as her anymore. 

She straightens, brows lowered. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere else." You reply, walking out of the office before she can argue.

Valeria is complicated. She is your boss, but you're not dumb enough to think that's all she is. You've had too many 'little moments' for it to stay that way. It's frustrating. Hanging onto those small threads of normalcy while she saws at them with a dull razor. you aren't sure what will happen once they snap, and you're left free falling.

You avoid Valeria for a while. Working on exercising your leg and pouring over your notes with intense focus. You're tired of people undervaluing you and thinking that you're some sad little wallflower that they can walk over all they want. You stretch your leg out over the bed and flex it. You're able to walk around without the crutches now. With mild struggle, but you can. Staying here is becoming all the more pointless. You can walk on your own, can shower without help. You still aren't entirely sure why you were here anyway. Why she insisted you stay. Valeria said it was because she would be getting something out of it but you aren't sure she did.

You stretch and lay down. Enveloped by the soft white sheets. They smell like you now. A knock on the door startles you.

"What?" You ask. Valeria pushes open the door.

"Sleeping?" She asks. Leaning against the doorframe.

 "Yeah, I'm fast asleep." You say dryly.

She looks like she's biting back a retort. "Are you going to ignore me for the rest of your life?" She asks. "Because both of us will have a hard time doing our jobs without any communication."

Valeria preaching the practice of communication feels ironic in a way. Her attempt at lecturing you like you're some wayward teenager aggravates you.

"Yeah, might be hard to blow smoke into my mouth then call me an idiot right after if we aren't speaking to each other." You hum.

Valeria frowns at you. "Yeah, might be." 

"Are you sorry?" You ask. Narrowing your eyes at her.

She furrows her brows at you, uncrossing her arms. "For?"

"Gee, I don't know Valeria, why don't you guess?"

Valeria closes her eyes as she makes an active effort to reign in her temper.

"I am sorry that your feelings were hurt." She says. Opening them and looking right at you, flicking over your body as you sit up straighter.

"That's not an apology." You say firmly.

 "Sorry you feel that way."

You shake your head. For some reason you feel disappointed in her inability to apologize. To show that she respects you enough to do only that. Like she failed a test neither of you were aware of.

You change the subject, deciding that it's pointless to try and ring an apology out of her. 

"I think I'm good to go home tonight." You tell her. Watching as her expression morphs into confusion.

"No you aren't." She says confidently. "You can still barely walk."

"I can walk fine, Valeria." You reply. 

Something seems to have agitated her. She crosses her arms. "Not that I can't replace you, but if you injure yourself and die at home finding someone else to cook meth for me will be a real pain in the ass." She remarks.

Her words make you feel so appreciated. Regardless, it's good to know that you'd be hard to replace. it means your job is somewhat insured and by extension your life.

"Most of my wounds are almost healed completely." You speak. "It's time for me to stop intruding on you and leave."

Valeria steps closer. "You aren't intruding."

You rise to your feet, stumbling slightly when they tingle from being in the wrong position for too long. "Still, whether or not I am, I'm good to go." You say. Looking at her. "I'm getting homesick anyway."

A frown crosses Valeria's features and she actually looks like she's about to argue with you but eventually she relents. Turning away from you.

"Fine. Get your things." She replies stiffly.

After she leaves your room, you begin to repack your things. The clothes you brought, your toothbrush, hair care, skin care. It takes you only thirty-three minutes. You find Valeria waiting for you down in the living room, scrolling on her phone with lowered brows. She looks up when she hears you approaching.

"Let's go." She says. Without waiting for you she's out the door.

The car ride home is tense. There's no music or talking to fill in the silence between the two of you but based on the grip she has on the steering wheel she probably won't have anything nice to say. She reaches a red light and slows to a stop. Valeria is, after all, a good, law-abiding citizen. You finally arrive back at your apartment. Seeing the washed out, cracked brick building. You glance at her.

"Thanks." You nod.

"Hm."

Her dismissive response makes you frown but you let it go. Opening the car door, you step out. You open the back door and fumble around the backseat for your bags before walking away from the car to the dirty glass entrance. Valeria hurries off without waiting for you to go inside.

[spidybaby]

Ur fics r so good! If u can,can you do a part 2 to be quiet please with kylian sobering up and not remembering what he said so his mom teasing him or smth like that

Now you be quiet, please

Summary: After the events of last night, Fayza chooses to make Kylian pay for his words.

Warnings: Slightly cursing.

Thank you for reading ❤️‍🩹🥺 hope you like this ✨️ part one

"Turn that off" he says as he heard the alarm go off. "y/n, turn it off" he shake you a little to wake you up.

You sit up in bed and look at him confused, a few seconds later you turn your attention to the loud alarm turning it off. Taking the covers out you made your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

After a nice cold shower to wake you up, you did your skincare routine, indecisive about wearing makeup or just a tinted sunscreen. Deciding on a little bit of concealer to cover your sleepless "Kylian, amour wake up." you call him as you make you way to your vanity. "Amour, wake up" you repeat as you sit and prepare you products.

Melissa reminded you of the brunch before leaving, causing Kylian to invite himself. When his mother and you said no, he made a fuss, leading to him actually getting invited so you decide to actually wake him up.

"Five more minutes" he says as he place his pillow on top of his face "Five more nothing, please wake up" you say as you throw the covers off of him. "Go shower, please" he whines but wakes up and walks to the bathroom, slamming the door on the way.

Once your makeup and hair is ready, you walk to the closet and pick a simple outfit. Deciding for the two of you, you picked Kylians outfit, matching with yours. "Bébé, your clothes are ready on the bed" you say before leaving the room, looking for your purse.

You sit on the big couch you have at the living room, texting Melissa for her to know you and Kylian will be on your way soon.

After a few minutes you hear kylian walking into the room "let's go" he says putting his hand out for you, you take his hand in yours and walk out to your car. "J'ai faim" (I'm hungry) he says while putting on his seat belt "vous avez toujours faim" (you're always hungry) You laugh at him.

"Bonjour, vous êtes enfin arrivés" (Hi, you finally arrived) Melissa says as she saw you walk to the table. "Bonjour à toi aussi" (hello to you too) Kylian says smiling at the two women at the table "Lana, Comment ça va, mon bébé?" (How are you, baby?) He kissed his niece cheek.

You two sit and order breakfast, making small talk as you wait for your food. You notice the look his mother is sending you. Remembering his words last night you feel your face blush and try to hide it by talking to Lana.

"Kylian, how was your night?" Fayza ask "You had a good time?" She drinks her coffee waiting for him to answer "Oui, I needed that so bad" You want to laugh. He was referring to the party but his mom wasn't. "Oh I'm sure you did, I mean you were so desperate for everyone to knew" the way his mother is playing with him makes you and Melissa laugh.

He has this neutral expression. "I mean, I couldn't help it" he shrug eating his croissant "So it was like the one at the morning or was better?" Melissa asks, making you hide your face in your hands. "What?" Is all he can ask, confused at what they mean.

You groan and turn your body to him "You don't remember?" You wanted to laugh because his face is a whole poem. "Je suis si confus en ce moment" (I'm so confused right now) he stops eating to pay full attention to you. "Lana, Vous savez ce qui passe?" (Do you know what's going on?) He asks his niece. She shrug her shoulder not caring as she enjoys a macaron.

"y/n, what's going on?"

You can't help but laugh. "Ask your mom, I have to go to the bathroom" you get up and make you way to the bathroom. Not wanting to be there when his mom explain the situation.

His eyes follow you until you dissappear from his sight. "Maman?" He asks her now. "Dites-moi juste ce qui se passe ici." (Just tell me what's going on). Fayza just smile and look at Melissa.

"Omg, Kylian. Last night you announced to your mom and I how good y/n made you feel that morning and how good you were going to make her feel as soon as you hit home." Melissa finally explains the situation to him. "Oh" is all he can say, not sure how to answer.

"The weather is good today, don't you think?" He's trying to change the subject, embarrassed about it. "Oui, very good weather. Kind of cold, good for the type of activities you like in the morning. Don't you think?" His mom can't help but tease him. "Yeah, a good warm up, good for before training stretching" Melissa join the teasing. "Arrêtez, s'il vous plaît" (stop, please) he can feel the heat on his face, hiding it with his hands.

You return happily, noticing the way the two women are laughing and the way his face is hiding behind his hands, you can't help but feel sorry for him.

"I'm back" you grab one of his hands and intertwine your fingers with his. "So, you understand now?" You tease. "Last night you were so comfortable expressing this, why so embarrassed now, bébé?" You want him to feel a little bit of the shame you felt yesterday. Enjoying it.

"Don't" he begged. "Remember how I asked you to be quiet, you told me your mom knew about it. Why are you so shy now, Kylian?" You smiled continuing with the mocking.

"Now you be quiet, please." He hides his face in the crook of your neck.

[kaialone]

Official Guilty Gear Anthology- Short Story "Street Light" (English Translation)

This will be a full English translation of the short story "Street Light", written by プランナーM (Planner M)

It’s the fifth out of five short stories included in the "Official Guilty Gear Anthology", which was available online for a limited time only from April 1st to April 8th 2024, as part of April Fools’ Day celebrations.

--

Street Light

"ISN'T IT ABOUT CLOSING TIME?"

"Right, we're almost sold out. Could you clean up in the back today?"

"ALRIGHT. DON'T FORGET TO CALCULATE THE SALES."

How many months has it been since I came here?

To be honest, I did not expect to be accepted by this town as quickly as I was.

At times, my past actions still weigh heavily on my heart.

However, the townspeople's smiles, their words of gratitude—they never fail to soothe it.

And so, every passing day leaves me feeling happy and fulfilled.

Suddenly, the doorbell chimed.

I was certain I had just put up the "Closed" sign, but a customer might have overlooked it.

Regrettably, I would have to ask them to leave.

"Apologies, but we are closed for the-"

I fell silent the moment I turned to the door and saw the one who had just entered the shop.

"You're…"

A fearless expression lurking behind a pair of sunglasses.

A well-toned body showing from beneath a black coat.

In spite of the laid-back aura emanating from him, I could find no opening in his posture.

I know of only one man with such a presence.

"Is this that famous place where they got a handsome boy baking some really good bread?"

"…I don't have an answer to that question. But this is indeed a bakery."

Johnny, leader of a group of chivalrous bandits known as the Jellyfish Pirates.

Although we were loosely acquainted, I couldn't think of any reason why he would come to meet me in person like this.

And our acquaintance went back to my time as an assassin. Therefore, the situation was even more difficult for me to assess.

…Still, I had no reason to be discourteous towards him.

He at least showed no signs of hostility or nosiness.

"Your visit is appreciated, but we do not have any of our best-selling products left at this time of day. It would be preferable if you arrived before the sun has set."

"What're you talking about? If a handsome specimen of a man such as myself showed his face during prime time when all the ladies are out shopping, your business would go down the tubes."

"Huh…? Er, thank you for your consideration…"

I wasn't sure of his intentions, or what he was even talking about.

Nonetheless, I thanked him for his—in his own way—thoughtful words and actions.

"…Oh, I get it, you're a clueless fella… I can see how that'd make you popular."

He looked dumbfounded for a moment and began muttering something to himself, but soon directed his attention back to me.

"I know this is sudden, but I came over 'cause I got a personal question for you."

"For me?"

"Yep. After all, you're not just an up-and-coming young baker who suddenly showed up in town. You're also a hero who keeps an eye on the scoundrels and protects the town's peace."

How does he know about that…?

Although, thinking back, it was I who raised my voice in defiance towards those men in the alleyway. No one else.

I shouldn't wonder if word of said incident has since been spread by the elderly man who bore witness to it.

And in any case, considering the vast information network at his disposal, he may have sources I could not even guess at…

"So, here's my question—Are you willing to risk your life for this town?"

…Where was this going?

There was no need to think about it. The answer to his question was etched into every fiber of my being.

"What a foolish thing to ask. If it's for the sake of that which I must protect, I will gladly throw away my-"

"Now, hold up."

He cut me off with such a firm tone that my breath caught in my throat.

It wasn't aggressive or domineering. And yet, his voice shook me to my core.

He carried on like that.

"You wanna protect this town, right? But I'm sure there's more to it than the town itself."

"…That is correct. The people and the bonds between them. Their feelings, their hopes. I wish to protect the web of connections woven into this town to the best of my abilities."

All of this was true.

I doubt a man like him would assume I could speak these words without the determination they demanded.

"You know…"

Seeming almost in disbelief, he looked me straight in the eye while he spoke.

"You're a part of that web, too. 'Course, so's your friend in the back."

"…What?"

Indeed, there was no denying that the townspeople would support me every day. And as such, I may have been made a part of their web myself… Thinking about it, I suppose I did feel that way.

But to me, the most important thing of all was to protect this… That's why…

"You're looking kinda troubled there, son. That hard to take yourself into consideration? If you're not even aware of it, this might be a more deep-seated issue, huh…?"

I was at a loss for words. It might have been a harsh thing to say, but I knew full well that he'd hit the nail on the head.

"Here's the thing though—You and your friend are part of this town now. So, if you wanna protect this town, you know where the best place to start is, right?

"But I-!"

"No buts! Listen, I'm not one to just complain, so let me give you a little lesson."

He made a pistol shape with his hand, pointed it in my direction and solemnly continued.

"I know that you've been literally putting your life on the line for as long as you've had it. But from now on…"

He took off his sunglasses, piercing me with a stern glare.

"Never throw your life away. But do risk your life. That's the way a man's oughta fight."

He concluded with those words.

"…Well, I'm gonna be protecting all of the ladies myself. So you only gotta protect half the people."

I could have taken it as a flippant remark, but it didn't seem like a joke. The tension surrounding us just moments ago had completely dissipated.

I thought I had died as an assassin and then been reborn, but…

Contrary to my expectations, life in the sunlight doesn't always go as planned.

"Well, I gotta get going now. Bread's the best when it's freshly baked, so I'll ask someone in my crew to stop by while the sun's still up."

He put his sunglasses back on and turned to leave.

"In that case, let them know that we will give them a discount if they mention your name. Consider it payment for the lesson you just gave me."

"Whoa there, I wasn't gonna bug you about it or nothing."

He laughed with a shrug and made his way towards the exit, only to turn back around one more time.

"I appreciate it, though. Well then, see ya later."

"…I must also express my gratitude. Please visit us again."

I bowed deeply as I watched his figure slip outside.

"HEY! I'M ALMOST DONE OVER HERE! WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?!"

I could hear my friend call out from further inside, sounding impatient.

"Oh, my apologies. I'm sorry to ask, but could you help me out with this?"

"UGH, WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITH YOU…? I SWEAR, YOU BETTER OIL ME LATER!"

Everyday life resumed.

Everyday life… I, Venom, find it to be both difficult and invaluable.

Something I must protect above all else.

And I must be aware that I, too, have made myself a part of it.

However, I know there is no need for me to rush. For this is not something one can rush to obtain.

"I will… protect this town. As one of the people of this town."

--