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[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.

______________________________________________________________

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 8

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.7k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, explicit sex. Top Simon Riley. Bottom Johnny MacTavish. Barebacking, oral sex - fem receiving, anal fingering, rimming. Anxiety, crying. Caretaking. Comfort. Relationship issues. Established throuple. Angst. Darling is her/your own tag and warning. The guys get back.

“Two weeks?”

Simon steps closer to where you’re stalking around in the kitchen, working a circular pattern into the floor with your pacing. “It’s not ideal-“ 

“Not ideal? It’s… it’s about to be Christmas.” your voice squeaks with disbelief, misery, heart squeezing in your chest uncomfortably. “You just got home.” The idea of facing two more long, cold weeks in the dead of winter makes your bones rattle inside your body, worsened by the fact that you’ll most likely be alone for the holidays. 

“Ah know, we know, love. But we cannae control when we’re needed. Ye know this.” The words strike true, and instantly deflate you. You do know. 

You know too well. 

“We’ll try to be home before Christmas.” Simon vows, but you shake it off. It sounds, it feels, like too much of a promise. Too much like the bitter pill of disappointment.

You shove it down as far as you can. Try to patch over the rip in your soul that’s turned into a pit, devolved into a galaxy ending black hole in your heart. 

“It’s fine.” 

“Darling.” He reaches for you, fingers moving into your line of sight, but you duck it, opting to turn back towards the cabinets, picking up the clean glassware that you were in the middle of putting away. 

“I’m fine.” Your tears lie in wait, stinging up your nose, forcing you to swallow against a shallow breath. 

“We don’t want to be away from you, you know that.” He tries, and Johnny sidles up next to you, watching with concern. You ignore them both, counting your breaths, arranging the glassware one by one, opting to focus on the task instead of the storm that’s brewing in your head. 

“I know. It’s fine.” You huff, last glass going up inside the cabinet with a rattle. Your hands are shaking, everything overwhelmed by trying to keep yourself together. 

“Darling.” Simon says again, and you brush him off, pulling the silverware caddy from the machine. The utensils jangle together, loudly, and Simon tries to get your attention again. 

You pull the drawer with a jerk, hard and fast. Smooth. 

Too smooth.

 It jumps the track and flies towards the ground, silverware and odds and ends falling to the floor, both you and Johnny lunging to catch it without success. 

It crashes across the kitchen, like thunder cracking across a night sky, a firework in the dark. 

Johnny flinches, jolting from where he crouches with a hand outstretched for the runaway drawer. Simon doesn’t startle as bad, but he squints, before relaxing. 

And then you burst into tears. 

“Fuck!” you blubber. “Fff-fuck. I’m so-sorry.” You turn with blurred vision into a thick wall of mass, Simon, who’s arms go around you immediately, strong hand on the nape of your neck. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. We’re here.” He’s soft with his words, lips pressing to the top of your head. He holds you there, murmuring in your ear, coaxing your breaths slower, promising that everything’s okay. “Bedroom lights.” He instructs Johnny, still holding you tight. 

“Rog.” Johnny replies automatically, and you shake your head in teary denial. 

“The mess.” He rebukes your protest. 

“We’ll clean it up later, darling. Let’s take care of you first.”

You hear the helicopter before you see it.

The blades whirl, cutting through the air effectively, and you try not to bounce on your tiptoes as the figures in the far distance disembark from the giant machine.

You can’t help it. You’re really excited.

There’s been something about being here waiting for them, being one of the first faces they see after they land, that absolutely delights you. It sings in your heart, making you smile and sigh, drawing you to the hangar to wait for them to come through the big, wide opening.

Johnny is first. He’s walking beside Simon, but actively looking, searching the faces that are milling about, some who are more stationary, like you, obviously waiting for something.

When he finds you, his mouth moves, body jostling into Simon’s side, and then he’s running. Sprinting.

He’s on you before you can blink, scooping you up, arms like steel curling around your thighs and hoisting you in the air hard enough that your hands come crashing down on his shoulders and his face is buried in your cleavage.

“Put me down!” You shriek with a little bit of laughter, a little bit of fake outrage.

He drops you a bit, but he doesn’t let go. Just keeps his grip around your waist, pulling your body into his, chasing your mouth with his own.

“Missed ye, darling.”

“It was only three days.” You chide, but your heart glows.

“Three days too long. Wonder if the boss‘ll let me retire. Take care o’ ye instead of doing this.”

“Oh, stop.” The protest is halfhearted, the smile that graces your face too much of a giveaway.

You half push him off playfully, still holding onto his jacket, and peek around, looking for the other piece of the puzzle.

He’s standing there, watching. The grey skull that’s pulled over his face sobers your glee, and you move to step forward, but Johnny holds you tight, mouth above your ear.

“Wait, darling. We’ll all go back tae the room, aye?” Simon nods, like he knows what Johnny is saying, even though you’re sure he cannot hear him.

“Okay.” You stay tucked up under his arm, Simon walking in lock step behind you both.

“This was suppose’ tae be a nice dinner.” Johnny grunts, and you gurgle a response around his cock, length stuffed deep in your throat. The edge of the table pinches against your skin, reminding you of exactly where you are, laid across the dinner table on your belly, bent at the waist with Johnny in front of you, Simon on his knees behind you, thumb spreading you wide for his tongue. 

“It was.” Simon assures him. His breath heats the skin of your backs of your thighs, a wet finger swirling around the tight ring of muscle between your cheeks. There are mashed potatoes on the floor next to his knees, splattered on the hard wood near the spot where the gravy is slowly trickling over the edge of the table. You feel… a little bad about it. A little guilty. Johnny worked hard on this dinner, and you truly did appreciate it, you just didn’t anticipate being the dessert. 

 “Until someone called me a liar.” 

You try to protest, but your mouth is too full. 

That’s not what you meant. You weren’t calling him a liar. You just… don’t know how to process this. How to believe. 

“We,” Simon presses a kiss to the swell of your ass, “want to keep you, darling.” Another drag of his lips, this time on the crease of your hip. “We want to take care of you.” Teeth graze along your inner thigh, tongue slicking along your skin. “We want to know you.” Fear cuts through the lovestruck, lustful haze that’s penetrated your mind, and you curl your fingers into your palms until the pressure sears with a bite. You focus on that feeling, and not the wariness that’s spreading through your body, the overthinking, the worry that grows from that one sentence: we want to know you. 

A part of you wants to float away, wants to drown in the feeling of them, disappear into the toe-curling pleasure, dip beneath the surface and never come back. 

But something winds you too tightly to let go. Something lurks in the back of your mind, whispering half-truths, half lies. 

It’s not real. They don’t want you. They don’t mean it. 

“Why don’t you believe us?” He knows you can’t answer, he must. You groan around Johnny’s cock, hot length pressed against the back of your tongue, and he blows a breath from his nose. 

Simon pushes a thick finger against your rim, feeling how you flutter for him, before going deeper, up past his knuckle, and you choke on a gasp, throat constricting around Johnny’s cock. It’s good, sinfully delicious, and you relax to allow him more, a second finger joining the first, stretching you with a sting. 

“Johnny.” Simon says his name like a command, and then Johnny’s pulling away, sinking to his knees in front of your face and cradling your jaw with a gentle hand. 

“Tell Johnny how it feels.” Simon coaches, and replaces his fingers with his mouth, tongue dipping inside of you with unrivaled skill. You melt into a heap of buttery sweetness, bones nearly liquid, legs trembling. 

“Oh, is it good? Tell me darling, use your words.” It’s a little bit mocking, a little bit sincere, with a heaping amount of adoration and lust, and he rubs a thumb across your cheekbone, soft eyes watching yours. 

“Ye-eah.” You stretch the vowels, tongue leaden between your teeth. Simon is feasting on you, like he didn’t just eat an entire dinner, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, big hand spreading one of your cheeks wide so that his entire face is buried in you. “Fuck.” 

“Can ye come like this?” You garble out the word yes, then no, then there’s nothing, just your slack jaw, Johnny disappearing from your line of sight. 

His mouth is on your cunt a second later. You pant, twisting to try to look, catching a glimpse of him under the table, opposite Simon, bent at an odd angle, tongue lapping at your clit, and his hand inside Simon’s jeans working his cock in long strokes. 

It’s circuit overload. Every connection surges to full power, lighting up your muscles, your bones, every hair on your body. You practically vibrate with it, and your knees wobble. 

“I- I… can’t!” you cry, a thumb pressing down on your clit, applying pressure in a circular motion, stroking the swollen bud in rhythm with the tongue that dips into your hole. 

“Yes, you can.” Simon pulls away, kneading your cheeks with thick fingers. “You can, darling.” 

“I can’t-t stand. My-“ You don’t get to finish before you’re being pulled from the dinner table and heaved into someone’s arms, jostling against a chest before your back hits the bed. 

Your knees are pushed back, up towards your ears, and heat crawls through your belly when you glance up at where they both stare at your fully exposed cunt. 

“Better?” The Scottish accent rasps, and you nod desperately. “Words, love.” 

“Yes! Yes, please.” You’re asking for them both, desperate for them both. You’re frantic with it, your need, your desire to be ruined by them. Possessed by them. Loved by them. 

You don’t know how to say it, can’t get the words out. They get stuck, hung up on your anxiety, your fear. 

“Darling.” Simon reads it, reads you like he always does, pulling you back towards them, grounding you. 

Your lungs shudder with a deep breath. 

“Please.”

Johnny hits the overhead light off in the room as soon as the three of you get inside.

He sits you on the bed, gently. Kissing your forehead, your temple, before pulling away and flicking the bedside light on, casting warm yellow tones around the concrete blocks.

Simon keeps his back turned, things on his body shifting, being shed, being moved, until the grey skull is being placed on the little table, and the balaclava is being shucked to reveal a scruff of hair and his wide neck.

���Simon?” You whisper, but he still doesn’t turn to you. Johnny strips his gear off as well, but watches, eyes keen. Observant. “Simon…” His shoulders loosen, tension deflating from his muscles but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t move towards you until; “I need you.”

It’s fluid, the steps, the bend, the grace of such a large body sinking to his knees in front of you, arms wrapping around your hips and then his face, smashing into your belly.

“Missed you too.” He murmurs into your skin, and you stroke your fingers through his hair delicately, careful to be slow and deliberate with your movements. You know, Simon is different for work. The grey skull. The ghost.

It can be hard on him. Hard on Johnny. Difficult for them both. For you.

The bed dips, and Johnny’s sitting at your side, leaning you into his chest. A bridge, between two. A web, connecting three.

Yours. Your family.

Hope blooms across your heart, gardens of flowers thriving under the sun of their affection, their care, their love.

Your nose, your eyes begin to burn with the promise of tears. Fuck. 

You blink them away, sniffling. The sound causes Simon to jerk, leaning back to peer at you, but your hide your face, and he hums, stroking the back of your neck.

“We’re here, darling.” You nod into him silently, basking in the overload of it all. The sweet. The bitter. The two, together.

“Ah love ye both. So much.” Johnny hums, and it makes the burn worse, the emotions rising inside of you like a tidal flood, waiting to burst through the dam.

“I love you too.” You choke, and Simon grumbles something in response, something that sounds like the three words, before he’s up on his feet, notching his mouth against yours fiercely. He clutches the back of your skull, touching his forehead to yours before moving to Johnny, kissing him sweetly and then pulling away.

“Gotta shower.” He grunts, and you flop onto your back without preamble.

Johnny sighs, curling up next to you, tugging your body into his.

“We’re gon’ to a pub tonight, Kyle, and Price. The three of us tae, ‘course.”

“M-me?” you stutter, eyebrows raised, and he smiles.

“Yes, darling. Ye too.”

The pub is extremely dark. It’s dark enough that Simon seems to be comfortable in just the black mask and hoodie, and Johnny is relaxed, nonchalant with a shoulder leaning against you, head occasionally dipping to whisper something in your ear.

You however, are not relaxed.

Your body is tight, muscles practically iron against the straight-backed chair, mouth dry. You’re out of place, out of your depth. You feel like an ornament of some sort, an adornment. It’s selfish, but you wish you still in the room with the guys, just the three of you. Together, still in that sweet, hazy in-between, floating on admissions of love and adoration.

Conversation flows around you like water, ebbing and flowing as you sip your drink, and Simon’s hand settles on your thigh, thumb stroking a semi-circle into your skin, nodding to something Kyle is saying.

“- and I just don’t want one, but she does. So, I guess we’re getting a dog.” He sighs into his beer, and Johnny snorts.

“Better than a bairn, ah suppose.” He quips. Simon tenses on your other side and then shakes his shoulders out, turning to look at Johnny before leaning in and pressing clothed covered lips to your forehead.

“Alright?” You hum, nodding your response. You’re a little anxious, sure. But otherwise, fine, besides probably needing to use the restroom. You don’t want to take away from this time they have with their friends, their coworkers.

They carry on, talking about something that sounds like work, going back and forth about some finer detail that you can't distinguish, and you drain the rest of the drink, hopping down from the bar seat to go to the bathroom.

Johnny pulls you into him, mouth bumping along your temple to whisper in your ear. “Dinnae take too long, or Ah’ll come lookin’ for ye.”

“Hey, do we still want to do-“ your sentence dies in your throat when you turn corner into the bedroom, where Simon’s got Johnny beneath him on a pillow, an ankle thrown on his shoulder, the lines of both of their bodies, flex of their muscles making your mouth water. “mussels for dinner.” They both turn to look at you, blissed out euphoria on Johnny’s face, while Simon gives you the teeniest smirk, before reaching for you with beckoning fingers. 

“How was work?” 

“Simon… fucking hell.” Johnny blurts, brow furrowed. Simon hasn’t stopped his ministrations, still slowly dragging his cock in and out of his hole, a teasing pace that has Johnny panting.

A tendril of worry snakes through you. They rarely start without you, why did they start without you? Are you interrupting? Is this- 

“Darling.” Simon breaks through your distracted thoughts, hand still outstretched, waiting for yours. When you look up into his eyes, he nods to encourage you, and pulls you closer, thumb stroking over your knuckles, hips still sawing back and forth. You bend a knee onto the bed, pressing your fully clothed body into Simon’s side, the heat of his naked skin warming you through your shirt, and Johnny’s mouth snaps shut, eyes falling dreamily on yours, sly smile scrawling across his face. 

“It was good.” You finally answer, never looking away from Johnny, glancing from where Simon’s cock is sliding inside him, to where his gaze is glassy with pleasure. Your own body responds in kind, the view of your partners loving each other making your knees feel kind of weak. 

“Someone,” Simon thrusts a little sharper, a little harder, a soft moan sounding from Johnny in response. “wanted to wait for you to get home, but couldn’t.” He speaks perfectly clear, the vocal control something you’ve always been envious of, the fact that he can carry on a conversation while he’s fucking you or Johnny deep something you’ve never understood. 

Two sides of your brain war against one another, unsettled fear and insecurity pushing to the forefront even though your body begs you to just get undressed already. You feel out of sorts, and it gnaws away inside your heart, a shadow of yourself slipping away while you watch the way Simon’s hand grips onto Johnny’s thigh. 

You shove it down. You’re being ridiculous. You’re reading too much into things, like always. You’ve had this conversation dozens of times. Sex is not exclusive to the three of you at once. Why are you getting so out of sorts? 

Simon’s mouth finds your cheek. “Where are you, darling?” He’s stopped moving, fingers stroking along the nape of your neck, the pressure soothing your raw edges, and Johnny props himself up on his elbows, face creased with mild concern. 

“I- I’m here.” You try to assure them both, desperate to keep the mood intact, but it comes out a little squeaky, a little off pitch. 

Everything grinds to a halt immediately. Simon pulls out slowly, and Johnny reaches for you without a word. You go without complaint, falling into his arms with closed eyes, trying to beat back the nonsense that’s brewing in your mind. 

Guilt roars inside your head. You ruined it. Ruined their fun. Ruined the moment. 

“I’m fine.” You protest, cuddling in close, nosing along his skin, sticky summer sweat dotting his skin like dew. “Swear.” Simon arranges you so that you’re laying flush with Johnny on your side, and then the comforter is being brought overtop the three of your bodies, soft cocoon of down feathers being tucked around your shoulders. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

They’re not at the bar when you come out.

You catch sight of Simon's out front through the only window in the entire pub, his boss, Price, holding a cigar between his lips, nodding his head thoughtfully at whatever is being said. Your jacket is gone, along with your little purse, tucked underneath Johnny’s arm, half of him visible through the same window. He’s closer to the parking lot, laughing at something with Kyle, face full and happy, so handsome it winds you, tugs a little smile onto your lips.

You’re still smiling when you slip out the front door, making your way towards the side of the pub where the four of them are loitering, no doubt waiting for you to be finished.

When you hear Simon’s voice, you stop dead in your tracks.

“It’s just hard on her, takes a toll.” Simon is talking to Price, who’s got his arms crossed and head cocked, listening intently. “And it’s hard on us too, bein’ away from her for too long. It starts to chafe us. We miss her, and she misses us, and sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing.” Your stomach drops out.

The right thing? The air suddenly feels like ice against your skin, and you hold your breath. Your relationship? He worries if it’s the right thing? 

“You’ve made it this long, it’s clear three of you love one another.” Price counters, and you can hear the depressurization of Simon’s lungs, long sigh whistling free.

“She suffers for it, for us. It doesn’t feel fair.” Your eyes go as round as globes, mouth pooling with saliva from the nausea that swamps your stomach.

You should go back inside. You shouldn’t be listening to this, eavesdropping.

You shouldn’t be doing any of this.

You shouldn’t be here.

You turn away, heel crunching against the little rocks that are scattered across the asphalt, and you swear it’s louder than a gunshot.

Simon tenses, shoulders flexing as he turns, eyes wild when they land on you.

“Darling-“ He takes a step forward, and for the first time in so long, you feel like you can’t trust him. As if doesn’t truly see you, like he always has before.

Fair? Fair? Nothing about this was ever fair. 

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to run.

“Darling, listen.” He’s closer now, voice sharp, insistent with command, and you glance past him to where Johnny is practically jogging to your side, confusion rippling across his face.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, not sure if he hears it. Not caring if he does.

You can feel a gaping hole ripping wide in your chest, in your heart. It’s tearing apart all the repairs you’ve made, destroying the effort and love that’s been painstakingly built up, and the hope that’s been fostered inside of you slowly starts to die when you look up at the two of them.

Simon’s eyes are hard with something you cannot name, Johnny’s expression rife with concern, with worry.

“Take me home.”  

[lemmetreatya]

this was very clearly his side job.

club bouncer!sukuna is well aware he didn’t have to commit fully to it, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pompous power that the job brought him.

club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t believe he has favourites. every club had their fair share of sleazy gropers and pumping loud music. but he definitely looked forward to working at a certain club in particular — spice’s munchkins.

staffed majority of woman (bar the owner, kiyotaka ijichi himself) who were few of the most likeable people he knew, club bouncer!sukuna felt a tendency to look out for them more than he did the customers. because he’s not gonna lie, they were all stunnas in their own right. glamorous — with hairstyles that suited their features and outfits that accentuated their curvaceous bodies. it was sadly often that people would try to treat them like pushovers or start unnecessary trouble, but club bouncer!sukuna made it his mission to protect them. especially you.

“you good?!” you shout over the music towards club bouncer!sukuna as you clean up your work station.

the bar area isn’t too busy concerning the ‘entry before 12am = free drinks’ is over and most people are on the dance floor, and so club bouncer!sukuna takes the chance to lean onto the bar counter, his eyes freely dancing over the top half of your figure.

“a martini pornstar if you dont mind.”

with a roll of your eyes, you scoff in his direction albeit your smile is light.

“boy, you know i’m not allowed to pull those typa favours. Iji’s already warned me twice.”

“yeah, but i’m your favourite. you’ll let me slide, wont you?”

the two of you hold each other’s eye contact for a brief second. you’re sure you encounter something deeper, something more carnal than just a casual stare, but you easily relent and look away first.

“fine! but at least pay for one through the employee discount. i’m really not tryna lose my job.”

club bouncer!sukuna has his eyes linger on you a bit longer before he agrees with a grunt.

you quickly set the card machine up so that he can pay for his drink but then you move to the otherside of the bar to start making his drink.

however, halfway through you accidentally dropped the lick of dark red de kuyper onto your shirt, the sticky substance automatically seeping through. with a curse under your breath, you suddenly rush towards the toilets behind the bar.

seeing you randomly boister off, club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t think about why — he automatically follows you through behind the bar area, thinking something was dearly wrong.

“everything okay?!” club bouncer!sukuna’s voice is gravel as he speaks upon pushing the door open, but he doesn’t expect to see you with your shirt mildly wet with the buttons popped and your bra on display. instantly he backs up.

“oh, shit. my bad.” he gruffly mumbles but you stop him before he’s able to leave.

“no, it’s fine. you’re fine.”

you move around the man to pull him back into the staff bathroom before shutting the door behind him and for a second, club bouncer!sukuna feels his dick jump in excitement.

“fuck…” he breathes once you let go of him. you back up so that you can stand against the sink with your spine against the cold porcelain.

“what?” your lips look like glass beneath the toilet’s neon lights and club bouncer!sukuna is just dying for a taste.

“i know you feel that.”

“feel what?” you ask up at him with wide inquisitive eyes.

club bouncer!sukuna’s hands start to flex by his side as he feels his inner demons become stirred. he can hear his walkie talkie click for his presence but he dutifully ignores it because surely there was something deeper to your actions yet all you do is act clueless.

taking a step closer in your direction, club bouncer!sukuna bares his teeth as his lips curl upwards. yet his large hands quickly find solace atop your waist.

“don’t make me sound it out, woman. this. this thing between us.”

“what, you think i got the hots for you?” you say, despite you allowing club bouncer!sukuna‘s hands to knead your skin whilst you lay your hands over his chest.

“i know you do.” he snides, but then he’s pressing his tenting crotch against your thigh. “luckily, i feel the same way.”

club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t mind that you offer to suck him off because he’s singing low moans into the echoing bathroom once you do, his hands on your cheeks as he pretty much fucks your face.

but then he remembers that hes determined to treat you and so he finds obligation in eating you out against the wall as you stretch one of your legs wide open. messy juice stains his mouth but now its your turn to tug at club bouncer!sukuna‘s hair as you caused you to writhe and buck your hips into his mouth.

but because he’s a menace, club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t let you dip after he’s made you cum twice. no, club bouncer!sukuna is fucking your sweet cunt whilst cursing every profanity he knows because you’re exactly what he needs and wants to willingly. and his walkie talkie is now requesting the both of you, unsure of where you were.

club bouncer!sukuna doesn’t usually stay close to quick fucks — hasnt really got the heart to face them — but it’s something about you that makes him do something stupid, something so intimate.

whilst he’s zipping his trousers up and youre drying her blouse in the hand druer, club bouncer!sukuna groans.

“uhh…fuck. i dunno, man but…” club bouncer!sukuna kisses his teeth before nodding his head towards the door. “there’s a 24 hour food stop just up this street. you wanna grab somethin’ with me after our shifts?”

your eyes widen for a second but not for long. giggling with the man, you sweetly nod.

“sure. thought you’d never ask.” you say with a sigh of relief.

[haikyu-mp4]

Ahhh!!! Congrats on your 300 follower milestone! This seems super fun.

I’m applying with Matsukawa. I am outgoing and extremely flexible 🥺

thank you lovely anonymous<3 we love extremely flexible workers, you're hired!!

Hey now

Matsukawa is your coworker and you're closing up the café together, for the now hiring! event

word count; 324 – gn!reader

The second you locked up the entrance to the cafe, you felt the looming presence of your coworker behind you. You turned around looking deadly serious before raising your fist.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” you both chanted, and you raised your arms triumphantly when you kept the rock and Matsukawa chose scissors.

“Why would you do rock three days in a row?” he groaned, annoyed with your tactic as he went to get the mop. The loser mops the floors.

“Evidently, I am the natural alpha of this establishment,” you joked, going over to the counter to plug your phone into the AUX and put on whatever music you enjoyed lately.

He just scoffed, looking away so you wouldn’t see the small smile on his face as he went to fill up the bucket with soap water while you got started on cleaning the coffee machines and otherwise preparing the workstation. “I need to start asking for shifts without you.”

You were humming to the music when you felt a wet hand smear some soap water on the back of your neck, hum turning into a squeal while he ran away. Your hair stuck to your neck and some drops ran underneath your uniform and down your back. “Mattsun, you bitch!” you scolded, getting a paper towel to dry it off as best as you could. Matsukawa snickered at your reaction before actually getting to work. Time to put up all the chairs and get the floor cleaned.

Despite the bickering, you and Matsukawa work well together when you get into it, moving on automatically to any open tasks when you finish the last one. You were about to start the last step of checking the register when the song on the speaker switched and played a very recognizable intro. The two of you made eye contact across the counter as a song from the classic Shrek soundtrack started playing.

“Some-BODY ONCE TOLD ME!”

masterlist

[lavender-lily]

My favorite part of grocery shopping (sarcastic) is getting stalked by the automatic floor cleaning machine.

[artificial-transmutations]

The curse of the witches house

Ratko sighed. He really loved his job as a paramedic, but this was the third emergency call today, and he started to just feel tired. The first two calls were not so hard, though. One of them was nothing more than a car accident on the road nearby. And it didn't take long to find all wounded people at that one.

This time was different, though. It took him almost an hour to reach the location where the emergency happened. This wasn't because of traffic or distance, but rather due to the fact that it was in a remote and deserted building in a forest, which was not easy to find. "The witches house", people called it. No-one knew what they did there, but some said that something evil lurked behind those walls.

When he finally found the place, Ratko felt scared. It looked like a haunted house from the movies. It wasn't difficult to imagine that a witch was once living there. A broken window gave him access inside.

"Hello?" he shouted nervously. His voice sounded small in the dark empty room. But no answer came. "Is anyone here?!" he tried again. Great, he thought. Either it had been a prank call or the people needing help were unconscious - or worse. Maybe someone got hurt badly.

He entered the house and checked if anything seemed wrong. Nothing did until he came to the cellar. There, he smelled the strange smell of burned herbs. He saw a big table with several jars full of unknown ingredients. Curiosity got the better of him and he looked around some more in the room. Suddenly, he heard a noise from above, startling him badly. Instinctively backing off, Ratko accidentally knocked one of the old jars from the table, breaking it. Immediately, the smell of exotic herbs filled the air and Ratko briefly heard a ghostly echo, like the cackle of an old woman. Frightened, he shook his head and quickly left the cellar.

After searching the house, he concluded that it was probably a prank call. Frustrated, Ratko went home. It was early evening already and after eating dinner, went to watch some tv. Normally, Ratko would spend the evening reading or studying, but today, he didn't really feel like it. Searching for something that caught his attention, he finally settled on a socker game. Normally, Ratko didn't care for sports at all, but today it just felt right. He even went to get a can of beer from the fridge that was still left from his last birthday.

That wasn't even so bad, Ratko concluded, as he sat on his couch, sipping his beer and watching sports. The good part about socker, or sports in general, was that the players were usually pretty fit and good looking. Perhaps he should work out more himself, he mused, while he stuck his right hand into his pants almost automatically. He felt his cock chub up and began stroking it gently. Oh well, maybe tomorrow morning...

The next day was Saturday and Ratko woke up late in the morning on his couch, feeling lazy and relaxed. It took him a moment to recollect what happened yesterday, but the beer can on his floor and the cum stains in his uniform pants told him most of the story. After showering and cleaning up, he decided to go jogging instead of going to the library, which is what he usually did on Saturday mornings. He was surprised by himself about how fit he was. Running didn't really tire him much and his body was functioning like a well-oiled machine. But God was he horny. Every time he passed a somewhat attractive guy, he turned around and checked out their asses. Perhaps he should try to get laid again, it had been a while. The erection that grew in his running shorts was hard to hide. At first, he tried to stuff it down his leg, but it wouldn't stay there. So, he decided to just flaunt it and smiled at men looking at his bulge. At some point, somebody smiled back. He wasn't bad looking, so Ratko stopped and, after checking the other man out, addressed him unusually bluntly: "Hey man! Like what you see?" It wasn't like him to be so direct, but somehow, he found it difficult to formulate proper sentences today.

The stranger laughed and answered in kind: "Yes, I do."

"Good," Ratko replied confidently, "so let's take this somewhere private."

"Sure thing!" the young man said enthusiastically and grabbed Ratko's arm. They walked together through the park and when they reached a secluded corner where no one could hear them, Ratko pushed the stranger against a tree and kissed him passionately. It was only a few seconds before the two started making out hotly and groping each other.

"Oh fuck, yeah!" Ratko groaned loudly as his hands explored the stranger's body. He loved the smooth skin and soft muscles underneath his fingers. His dick was throbbing like crazy now and it was getting harder and harder to keep control over it. With some force and not much finesse, Ratko flipped the guy around and pulled down his pants, exposing the strangers ass.

"Fuck me! Fuck my tight little hole!" the stranger moaned and lifted his buttocks up.

"I'm gonna do it, baby!" Ratko growled and pressed his cock against the guys asshole.

"Oh yes!" the man cried out, "fuck me hard!"

"Yeah!" Ratko grunted and shoved his cock inside the man's ass. He felt the heat of the stranger's body and smelled its sweat. The man's ass squeezed his cock tightly as he thrust forward with powerful strokes.

"Ohh yesss!" the stranger screamed out as he felt his ass being fucked hard. He couldn't believe how good it felt. His whole body trembled, and he felt his balls tightening. He knew he would soon cum if Ratko kept fucking him like this. He wanted to warn him, but his voice failed him. Instead, he just gasped loudly as he felt an orgasm rushing towards him. And then it hit him, and he exploded deep inside the stranger's ass. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes as waves of pleasure coursed through his body. At the same time, the stranger moaned and creamed the front of his own pants.

Both men were panting, and Ratko couldn't believe that he just fucked a random guy out in the open. Somehow, though, it made him feel proud.

"Want one?" The stranger offered Ratko a cigarette. He wanted to reply that he didn't smoke, but then again, why not start now, he reasoned and took the cigarette.

"Thanks," he said and lit up. He took a long drag and looked at the man who was still holding his pants up. "We can do this again sometimes", Ratko offered, while already walking away.

Although he just finished a run and pounded a strangers ass, Ratko was still feeling full of energy, so he decided to go to the gym to lift some weights.

It was a long workout and after it, Ratko was feeling horny again. On the way home, he bought some packs of smokes and a six pack of beer. He lit a cigarette already on the way home and another when he arrived on his couch and cracked open a beer.

Parts of Ratko felt disgusted. He was a far way from the intellectual he had been before, and could only watch helplessly, as with each passing hour today, his thoughts had slowed down and his body had grown bigger, and he could do nothing to stop this curse.

The next day, when Ratko woke up and after he jerked off in the morning, he looked at himself in the mirror, while smoking another cig. Yeah, he looked good, Ratko decided with a dumb chuckle. Time to work out and then find another guy to sink his jock meat into.

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | Chapter 7

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 7: Dirty Laundry

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.5k+

Content / Warnings: Reader POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting mention, alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, female masturbation, unprotected piv sex, send nudes pls, hold the moan/secret sex, text message chains, movies, fluff, awkwardness, praise kink, daddy kink

Notes: I don't really have any notes! Just excited to share, I hope you like it.

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The first time you wake comes a result of Frankie clomping around the house as he gets ready. 

It used to annoy you, how loud he can be in the mornings. But you’ve come to find it kind of comforting. Each cupboard slam and heavy footfall serves as a reminder that you’re not alone. That you’re safe. 

You stay cocooned in your sheets while he goes about his noisy routine, eyes closed, cradled in that warm, fuzzy space between awake and not. Content. 

When he leaves, a high-contrast silence takes his place. The slow rhythm of your automatic breathing lulls you back to sleep. 

You’re surprised when your eyes flutter open at 10:34 AM. 

Thanks to your opaque curtains, the room is drenched in darkness, despite the daylight trying to sneak in through the cracks. You squint into the brightness of your phone screen and read the text messages that came in while you were sleeping, all about a half an hour apart starting at 7:00. 

> RORY:  > Good morning beautiful > How are you today?  > I get off work at 3 today, wanna do something?  > I miss you 

“Oh my god dude, chill out,” you scoff under your breath while typing a reply. 

< ME:  < Sorry, just woke up. < Yes! I’m cleaning today but that’s all I have planned. What’re you thinking?

He reads and responds immediately. 

> RORY:  > We can check out that trail by the lake? Grab a bite to eat afterwards? 

< ME: < Sure

> RORY:  > Pick you up at 3:30?

< ME:  < See you then 😘

You toss the phone aside and sit up, scrubbing your hands over your face. Your eyes burn when you grind your fists into them and welcome a big yawn that stretches your lungs’ limits. A spasm catches your breath, shoving out a fit of coughs that leave you a little winded. 

Yeah, go on a hike today, that will be fucking fun. 

When you tiptoe through the kitchen, you find the coffee pot still on from when Frankie ran it this morning. Your nose wrinkles at its contents. The stale brew will be muddy and unsatisfying, but you pour it into a mug with some half & half anyway. 

You settle into your spot on the old couch in your living room and pull the notebook out from under your arm. Between sips of terrible coffee, you jot down the nighttime thoughts still floating around your head. 

Hard time falling asleep. Kept thinking about puppies, thinking I should have adopted that dog last year. Regret. No nightmares I think. Woke up at 10:30, feel tired still. Don’t want to go on a hike with Rory, but I am an idiot who can’t say no to people. I would rather stay home and be alone. I want it to be 

You pause here, staring at the passage. 

A jolt skitters across your ribcage. Blood rushes to your face. You glance around self-consciously, then cross out the last two and a half sentences. A few moments go by before you decide it doesn’t seem like enough, so you cross it out again and again, scraping dark lines into the notebook paper until the sentiment beneath is unrecognizable. 

Then you drop the ballpoint of your pen a few lines below the redaction and start writing out your to-do list for the day. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mutter to yourself. 

Frankie’s damp clothes stick to the circumference of your washer’s stainless steel drum. The rank scent that emanates from the machine reminds you of your grandparents’ house in the summer. 

With a sigh, you empty your dirty laundry on the floor of the mudroom and pull his clean clothes from the dryer into your basket, replacing them with the damps, then replacing those with your dirties. En route to his bedroom, with your laundry basket propped on one hip, you text him. 

< ME: < I stg you leave your clothes in the washer dryer on purpose so I’ll fold them 

He must be on his lunch break, because he texts back right away. 

> FRANKIE:  > I would never 😉 

The door opens with a creak when you step through the threshold, dropping your basket on the floor next to his bed. You take a selfie from the middle of the room and send it to him along with your response. 

< ME:  < K well I’m gonna lick all your stuff after putting away your clothes 

> FRANKIE:  > Promise? 

< ME: < Shut up lol 

> FRANKIE: > You look cute btw 

Heat floods your cheeks. A smile spreads across your face as you fall back into his bed. The musk woven between the threading of his sheets tugs at you. Your skin tingles with want, and you find yourself pulling the covers over your body and burying your face in his pillow. 

The phone buzzes beside you. 

> FRANKIE:  > Feel free to take a nap or do whatever you want in there

You sit up and whip your head around, then text back. 

< ME:  < Are you watching me 

> FRANKIE:  > Are you in my bed? 

< ME:  < … what if I was?

> FRANKIE:  > I wouldn’t mind one bit  > What are you doing in there?

< ME: < It’s comfy, I’m laying down 

> FRANKIE: > Can I see?

Your stomach flips. The warmth in your face spreads, sprouting up all over your body. You lick your lips and smirk, then open the camera and take a picture of yourself and send it to him. 

> FRANKIE:  > Wow 😍 > I’m going back to work. See you later tonight, sweetheart 

You start and erase about five variations of a response before just locking your phone screen and slamming it down at your side. Your hands fly to your face. All your organs melt and pool hot between your thighs. 

Fuck, you hate that he can make you feel like this. 

… but you love it, too. 

It’s intoxicating. 

You know him well enough to know that, throughout his day, whether he’s tinkering around in some commercial airplane, or running diagnostic tests, or chatting with coworkers, he will be thinking about you. Wondering what you’re doing. Hoping that when he arrives home there will be a spot in his sheets marked unmistakably yours. 

He always held a particular fascination with you touching yourself, a fact proven true last week when he got off watching you masturbate. 

The memory pricks your skin. Your squeaky mattress. The exchange of gasps and whimpers and moans. His lust-blown eyes, all wild and black as they watched you. 

Even before that, though. 

When you were working for him, he would sometimes text you specific locations in his house, asking you to masturbate there, send him pictures, and leave your panties. Of course, you were happy to oblige. 

There were a few times when he had you choose a place to fuck yourself. You gave him three clues, and if he guessed the location correctly, that’s where he would fuck you when he got home. 

One Saturday night, you were watching Sarah while he and Angie went out on a date. He texted you exactly one minute after Sarah’s bedtime. 

> FRANKIE: > Baby in bed? 

< ME:  < Yeah 

> FRANKIE: > Good > Can you do something for me?

< ME: < Maybe, what?

> FRANKIE:  > Go in my upstairs bathroom and take off that pretty dress > Film yourself getting off in the mirror  > Then send it to me 

< ME:  < Where are your manners sir 

> FRANKIE:  > Pretty please 😘

So you did. You tiptoed into the bathroom and pulled your dress off over your head, which is all the effort it took to strip down to a red thong. You stood in front of the huge vanity mirror and pressed record. 

When they came home, Frankie ushered an extremely inebriated Angie to their bedroom. He emerged a few minutes later and coaxed you into the bathroom. Between heated, whiskey-soaked kisses, he told you, “We have to be quiet.”

You nodded and raked your fingers through his hair, responding to his urgent mouth with your own. He locked the bathroom door and dug his phone from his pocket, propping it up on the bathroom counter before he pressed play. 

You pulled your dress off, watching his reflection in the vanity mirror for telltale signs of him being shitfaced. A stumble or slur. Compared to other nights where he spent hours at the bar, he seemed fine, which was a relief. 

From his phone, you heard your own whimper. You looked down and watched the past you, video you, flick your wrist beneath the cover of your underwear. 

His belt clanked as he undid his pants, pulling your attention back to his reflection. You met his eyes through the mirror and watched the darkness in them churn. He slid your thong aside, head of his cock nudging against your entrance. 

A rasp tickled your ear, “Look at you, the dirty little movie you made me—what were you thinking about?”

Your gaze dropped to the video. To video you grabbing your tits and biting your lips. He plunged forward, splitting you open, pulling a gasp from your lips, “Ffffuck—”

“Thinking about fuck?” 

He started to roll his hips, driving his cock into you, slow and deep. Pleasure rippled up your spine. Video you slid your thong off and showed the camera your pussy. 

Your lips parted to answer his question, but the words caught in your throat. It felt so wrong to tell him. He grabbed your shoulder and pulled your body against his, snapping his hips, pumping into you with sharp, hard movements.

“Holy fuck, Frankie—”

“Tell me what you were thinking about when you were playing with your pussy.”

“This,” you breathed, arching your back into his thrusts, each one a heatwave across your body, “You fucking me—trying to be quiet—trying to be a good girl—”

“You’re doing so fucking good, baby,” he purred, “Can’t get enough of this sweet pussy—drives me fucking crazy, Jesus Christ.”

Little whimpers and gasps started wriggling up your throat. Your eyebrows threaded together and lips parted with a croaked, “Frankie—”

“Fuck yes, baby, take it,” he hissed through gritted teeth, fucking you harder, faster, repeating under his ragged breath, “Take it, take it, take it.”

His cock rubbed along all the right parts of you, sending your pulse racing, adrenaline spiking when you remembered Angie asleep in the other room while he was there with you, dark gaze flicking between your video playing on his phone and your body bouncing off of him. 

Your whimpers morphed into moans, immediately muffled by his warm, rough palm. 

“Gotta be fucking quiet, sweetheart,” he panted in your ear, “I know it’s hard but you gotta do that for me, ok? Can you be a good girl for me, be quiet?”

You nodded. Calmed your moans into frenzied breaths. Lowered your gaze to the phone screen, where video you sank two fingers into your cunt and moaned, fucking yourself, just for him. 

“That’s it,” he panted, wrapping his arms around your torso to hold you in place as he fucked up into you, hot breath heating the crook of your neck, “Fuck, that’s it, such a good girl for daddy, hmm?”

You couldn’t help the choked moan that escaped you. 

“Say it, say you’re such a good girl for daddy—”

“I’m such—such a good girl for daddy.”

“Fuuuuck yes,” he groaned, one hand finding your clit, drawing frantic circles that flooded your body with a gooey, electric, pulsing energy, “Pussy so tight, feels so fucking good, fuck—”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, pushing against his thrusts, nodding your head, “Daddy I’m gonna fucking cum—”

“Holy fuck—that’s it, sweet girl, cum on daddy’s dick, you can do it.” 

You lost yourself, forgetting all about the concession to be quiet—whining and moaning as your bodies slid together with this sick, wet, sucking noise—consumed by the throbbing fire at your center, amplified with each snap of his hips, with his dirty little praises whispered in your ear, cock filling you again and again until you couldn’t fucking handle it anymore and your pleasure reached a fever pitch. 

Frankie released a deep, guttural moan as you clenched down, pussy fluttering around his length, white hot static vibrating across your body. 

He plunged into you once, twice, three more times with a shudder, spilling inside you. 

“Holy shit,” you panted, collapsing forward onto the bathroom counter. His grip softened and he went slack against your back. A few blissful moments went by like this before the spell broke. 

“God, I wish you could stay,” he told you in a breathy murmur, pressing a kiss into your bare shoulder, “Wish I could wake up with you.” 

And it sounded sweet on the surface, but you knew it was your cue to leave. 

You think about it now. 

About Frankie, and the video that you sent him while he was on a date with his wife. How she was under the same roof when the two of you fucked in the bathroom. How he had you call him daddy, and how you were such a good girl for him. 

You think about how it is between you now, how good it would feel to give in to those reckless desires and fuck like you used to. 

Your touch trails down between your legs as you imagine him here in the bed with you, cooing filthy things in your ear, rubbing your clit, laying heated kisses on your neck. 

You grab your breast and pretend it’s him squeezing your flesh. Imagine his soft lips around your nipple, the roll of his tongue against it. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, rolling your hips into your hand. 

A whimper bubbles through your lips and the brazenness of it stokes your insides. Another whimper, this one louder. Tingles shoot up your middle. 

You drag your fingers along your slit, moaning at the puddle of arousal pooling at your entrance, spreading it, coating your pussy in the slick substance. 

“So fucking wet,” you gasp, gripping your tit harder, imagining Frankie there, touching you, watching you with awe, telling you how fucking good you’re doing. 

Your fingers move faster, sliding easy against your lubricated nub, and you release a throaty moan, “So fucking good, daddy, you make me feel so good.“

The words out loud jolt your insides. You think: What if he saw me like this? What if he heard me? What if he knew I still fantasize about him? 

A burst of feral energy overtakes you and you crawl up onto your knees, pulling your loose cotton shorts and underwear aside so your cunt is exposed to the room. You work one hand hard and fast against your clit. The other sinks two fingers inside you.

You roll your hips, fucking your hand, moaning out, “Fuck yes, Frankie, fuck me just like that, so fucking good, daddy, you’re gonna make me cum—”

Uttering the words out loud electrifies you. Heat churns beneath your touch, growing brighter and hotter as your wanton moans hit his bedroom ceiling. Pleasure starts to swell and your movements grow frantic, desperate, chasing that feeling as you whine, “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

You convulse around your fingers and gasp, twitchy prods of pleasure gushing at your center each time your slick fingers graze your clit, slowing as the waves ebb into a fuzzy kind of bliss that occupies your whole body. 

You fall back in his bed, chest heaving, and try to gain your bearings. 

Shame starts to creep at the edges of your post-orgasm fog. Without prompting, your brain tells you: I hate myself. 

It stings. 

You gulp and shake your head, whispering out loud, “I love myself.” 

The correction soothes your hindbrain’s outlash enough for you to release a content sigh. A smile creeps across your face. You blink over at Frankie’s dresser, then rise to your feet and start folding his clean clothes. 

As you tuck the folded clothes away in his dresser drawers, you find the underwear he snatched from your bedroom last week. Teal lace, all stiff with his dried cum. 

You chuckle to yourself and shake your head. That familiar, reckless kind of satisfaction spreads through your veins. 

It’s fucked up, but the thought of him getting off on the scent of you fills you with pride. 

This is rocky territory. More than rocky, honestly. It’s dangling-off-a-cliffside-while-your-grip-is-slipping territory. 

You both know it. It’s like neither of you can help it. Over and over, you fall back together like opposite poles of a magnet. 

Are you drawn to each other because there’s something real? Or is it because of the thrill? 

You remind yourself that there is something more between you and Frankie than sexual desire. 

You laugh together, support each other, and enjoy your shared time. The bond you’ve formed is genuine. He has come to be one of your best friends. Second only to your sister, Leah. 

There’s a softness when you’re with him, too. A saccharine kind of intimacy that curls around your body and makes you feel at home. It has always existed between you, even if he never admits it. He used to push it away, but more and more, it’s become commonplace when you’re together. 

You swallow hard and shake your head, finding that you’re still staring at these cum-encrusted panties. You know Frankie won’t be able to bring himself to throw them in with the rest of his laundry. That would mean washing your scent, throwing your gift away. 

A little flint of arousal sparks at the base of your spine. 

After dropping the teal lace into your laundry basket, you shimmy your shorts and underwear down your legs, then wipe yourself off with the gusset of your floral cheeky bikini. You shove them into his dresser drawer in place of the spent pair. 

Two flimsy cardboard boats slide out onto the "PICK-UP HERE” window’s ledge. A booming voice follows, “Order number 32!”

Rory glances down at his receipt, then tucks it in his pocket as he steps through the crowd of hungry onlookers and approaches the rusted-out food truck. He returns holding one basket in each hand, a victorious smile dawning on his face, “Where should we sit?” 

You squint around your surroundings and spot a shaded patch of grass beneath the gnarled trunk of a buttonwood tree, then point to it, “Ooh, over here!” 

“Got it!” 

Rory jogs ahead and lands on the grass before anyone else can claim the spot. You catch up a few seconds later and sit down next to him, crossing your legs. He hands you your shrimp tacos and you murmur a thanks to him while balancing the basket on your knee. 

Under the eaves of the buttonwood tree, you find relief from the unrelenting sun. Your skin, all heated and gleaming with sweat, thanks you profusely. The cool earth somehow feels icy against your palms when you lean back and stretch out. You pull your sunglasses up on your head and tilt back to look up through the twisted branches of the tree, “Fuck, it’s hot out.”

You’re never really sure how to start conversations with him.

“Yeah,” he follows your gaze up into the tree, quickly losing interest. A deep breath expands his lungs as he looks around the park, finally settling his gaze on a playground, “You ever take the kids you babysit out here to play?” 

Your nose wrinkles a bit when he calls you a babysitter. You follow his line of sight to and watch hordes of squealing, laughing children crawl all over the playground. 

“Not this park, but I take them to the one by their house. It has a splash pad and this playground with water features. They love it, it’s pretty cool.” 

He nods. 

“When I worked for Frankie and his wife, I took their daughter, Sarah, here a lot. She was still just a little squish, but, you know, there are all these trails with cool trees and there’s the lake, and another playground further down that-a-way.” 

You point to your left. He doesn’t seem to care much about what you’re saying, but asks, “Is that a job you see yourself having long-term?” 

It’s a question you’re familiar with answering. Always tainted with judgment, insinuating that your job is that of bored teenagers trying to make a buck over the summer. 

“Yep,” you tell him with a close-lipped smile, tilting your head as you wait for him to say more.

“How will that work when you have kids? Do you want to be a stay-at-home mom, or will you bring the kid with you, or what?” 

With a shrug, you tell him, “Figure I’ll see where I’m at when the time comes and go from there.”

Rory hums and nods, brow furrowing at the ground like he’s soaking this in, then he says, “It’s nice that you do that. I like that you’re a caretaker.” 

It takes you by surprise. His gaze meets yours and you smile at each other for a moment. 

“Thanks,” you say and bring your attention to the boat of shrimp tacos resting on your knee, finding them cooled down enough to eat. 

After finishing your food, you and Rory start off towards his vehicle, hand-in-hand. The trail winds by the playground you were watching from afar. Like playgrounds often are, it’s total chaos. Children screaming, running, climbing, crying. 

You spot one little girl sitting in the sand, digging a hole between her splayed legs. She seems oblivious to the world around her. The dark ringlets dangling around her cherub face wiggle as she talks to herself, eyebrows raising expressively like the one-sided conversation is intensely interesting. 

She must feel you watching her, because her spine straightens and she looks around. When her dark brown eyes meet yours, her face lights up in recognition, and she squeals your name. 

You stop in your tracks and can’t restrain the wide smile from spreading across your lips, “Sarah!” 

Aside from the brief glimpse you caught of her the day Frankie moved in, and the grocery store shortly after, you haven’t seen her in over a year. She’s grown so much. Her chunky, wobbly baby legs have elongated and grown more capable, allowing her to run towards you, arms outstretched. 

When she reaches you, you scoop her up, twirling her around as you give her a big hug, “How are you, sweetheart? I missed you!” 

Sarah squeals with delight and says, “Missed you!” 

A cool rush of panic spreads across your skin when you look around and ask, “Where are your parents, sweetie?” 

“I’m digging a hole!” 

“Oh wow, you’re digging a hole?” you laugh and shift her onto your hip as you continue to study the sea of faces, ears growing hot when you remember Rory standing behind you. The last time you saw Angie, she insulted you in broad daylight. How the fuck would you explain that to Rory if it happens again?

“Hey!”

The familiar voice is sharp with outrage. Frankie’s hand grips your shoulder and spins you around to face him. His chest is heaving, jaw clenched, eyes aflame with fury. 

You have never seen him like this. 

Your eyes widen and you hold your palm up to him, “Just me, sorry!” 

He studies your face, still red-hot anger, then it seems to come into focus for him. His shoulders relax with a relieved exhale, then his features soften and grow apologetic, “Oh, hey.” 

You bring your hand back to your hip to support the weight of Sarah and chuckle, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to scare you—”

“No, no, it’s ok.” 

“We were just walking, and, umm,” you gesture back at Rory, trailing off when you see Angie approaching, arms crossed, beautiful face squared off in a stern expression. 

Frankie’s gaze flicks to Rory and he gives a nod of recognition before returning his attention to Sarah, “Did you see your friend and go to say hi?”

Sarah smiles sweetly and nods, then starts wiggling to be put down. You grant the request, lowering her to the ground and letting her go. She gallops back to her hole in the sand, while you call behind her and wave, “Bye, Sarah!” 

Your face scrunches up into a wince when you meet Frankie’s eyes again, and you shrug, “Sorry.” 

“Don’t sweat it,” he waves you off with a smirk. 

“Hey,” Angie greets, surprisingly calm. Her fingers curl around Frankie’s bicep and she blinks at you. 

“Hi, Angie,” you give a nervous nod, plastering on a smile that’s too eager, “I was just passing by with my, um,” you swallow hard and turn to Rory, waving him forward, “My boyfriend, Rory.”

Your voice is shaky. This is a nightmare. 

Rory’s arm wraps around your waist from the side and he gives a polite wave, “Hi.” 

“This is Angie Morales, Frankie’s wife,” you tell him. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Rory smiles and extends a hand to her. Angie says nothing, just shakes his hand while wearing this Mona Lisa smile and steps back beside her husband. 

The silence that follows is painful. 

“Ok, well, sorry again for the scare,” you sigh, looking down at your feet, “It was really nice to see Sarah, I miss her a lot.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Frankie says, and you look up to see his brow knit together, dark eyes all apologetic, “I’ll see you at home, yeah?” 

You nod at the ground, then tell Angie, “Good to see you.” 

She raises an eyebrow and laughs at this. It feels like a slap. You suppose it’s better than her screaming insults at you, though. Or, like, a real slap. 

When you turn and walk away, Rory’s hand finds yours again. His grip is warm and steady, and he frowns over at you, “You ok?” 

You forgot to adjust your face. The pain bubbling up inside you must be obvious. Traitorous tears spring to your eyes, thankfully hidden behind the dark of your sunglasses. You clear your throat and nod, “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

It sounds watery and false. 

“Hey,” he stops walking to turn towards you, “What’s wrong?” 

You shake your head and sniffle, “Nothing, I’m fine.” 

He raises his eyebrows, searching your face, “Really?” 

Your teeth catch your tongue. Dull pain wells up in each section of the soft muscle you clamp down on, providing a microscopic release. With a deep breath, you look down at your feet and shrug, “I just—I guess I missed her more than I realized.” 

“Come here,” Rory murmurs, ushering you into a hug. You oblige. His body seems to awkwardly wrap around you, but it brings you a small dose of comfort. Even if he doesn’t feel or smell like home. 

“What’s the deal with his wife, why did she seem mad?” 

Fuck. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice, or ask. 

“She, um… she thinks I stole something from her,” you tell him, “That’s why I don’t work for them anymore.” 

Misleading, sure, but not entirely a lie. 

He hums, rubbing your back, “You care about her a lot, huh? The little girl?”

“Yeah,” you croak. A few tears spring from your eyes. You squeeze your eyelids shut and wish them away. 

Rory kisses your hair and gives you a tight squeeze, “Should we keep going?” 

You sniffle and pull back from his embrace, flashing him a tight smile as you nod, “Yeah.” 

When Frankie comes home, you’ve already resigned to your room for the night, content to wallow in self-pity you have no right to feel. 

His footsteps creak against the floorboards as he makes his way through the kitchen, into the hallway outside your room. A knock comes at the door. 

You sigh and pout to yourself, then call out, “Come in.” 

Frankie opens the door and hovers in the threshold. You pause Stardew Valley and look over from your laptop, raising your eyebrows in question. 

“Hey,” he says, puppy dog eyes in full force, crossing his arms, “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know.”

He hums and studies you for a moment, shifting his weight into the doorframe, “Earlier was… It was weird, right?” 

Your eyelids flutter. You shrug, “She didn’t call me a slut this time, which was… nice.” 

He chuckles at this. You don’t crack a smile. 

When your lack of amusement registers to him, he clears his throat and pushes off of the door frame. He makes his way around the bed and sits down on the opposite side, scooting close to you. You roll your head on your shoulders and watch him reach out to touch you, then decide against it, fingertips curling onto his lap instead. 

“Look, I’m really sorry,” he says finally, but doesn’t look at you. 

“For what?”

“I know you miss Sarah. And I know my reaction earlier was—was,” he sighs and shakes his head, “It wasn’t great.” 

“Frankie, you thought I was a abducting your child—”

“I mean after that,” he turns to you now, sincerity etched in his features, “I could have let you hang out with her, or been nicer or something, I don’t know. I just—I know, in my gut, that I could have done better. And… I’m sorry.” 

An ache of affection spreads across your chest. You reach out and rest your hand on his forearm, thumb grazing his skin as you search his face, “I appreciate that, thank you.” 

A small, relieved smile graces his lips. He nods, “Of course.” 

Then he seems to relax a little, leaning back onto one elbow as he squints at your laptop screen, “Whadda you have going on here?” 

“Exploring caves, fighting monsters.” 

“Sounds nerdy,” he teases, “Figures you’d like it.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” you laugh and give him a playful shove, “You think I’m a nerd?” 

“Maybe,” he grins. 

You scoff and shoot him a mock glare, “On what grounds?” 

He frowns, looking up at the ceiling like he’s thinking about it, then shrugs, “Basically just this, but you’re cute when you’re all riled up.” 

“Wow,” you laugh, covering your face as it heats up, “So rude.” 

He grins and lays back in your bed like he’s making himself at home here, so you join him, resting your head on his shoulder. His cheek presses into the crown of your head. You resume playing Stardew Valley. 

Some time passes like this, cuddling with him while he idly plays with your hair, asking you questions about the game like he’s interested. When the sun sets and you both start yawning at regular intervals, you tuck the laptop away in your nightstand. Frankie doesn't move. 

You return to your pillow and roll on your side to face him, tucking your hands under your cheek. He mirrors the action, just a foot or so away. His warm gaze works around your face and he murmurs, “Do you want me to go?”

It’s so quiet you can hear your pulse pounding through your arteries. 

“Not really.” 

A small smile flicks across his lips. He looks down at his clothes, “Do—do you mind if I, um…”

“What, you don’t wanna wear jeans to bed?” you snort. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, “They’re not great pajamas.” 

“Go change, I gotta wash my face and stuff anyway,” you yawn, rolling onto your back, stretching your arms into the air. 

The two of you go about your bedtime routines. When you return to your room, Frankie is laying on top of the covers, arm tucked behind his head as he scrolls on his phone. He changed into gray basketball shorts and his old, worn out Metallica t-shirt. 

“That shirt is gonna crumble into dust one of these days,” you tease while plugging your phone into its charger. 

He sets his phone down and looks at his shirt, then grins up at you, “Until it does, I’ll be wearing it.” 

You shake your head at him, peeling back the covers with shaky hands. He sits up and wriggles between your sheets as you turn off your bedside lamp and crawl in beside him. 

For a few moments, it’s just quiet in the dark. Neither of you move or say anything. You imagine he’s staring at the ceiling with tingling nerves just like you, filled with uncertainty and fear and want. Not sure what the “line” even looks like anymore because it’s been blurred so much it’s indistinguishable. 

Every other time you’ve fallen asleep together since he moved in, it could be chalked up as either accidental or, like when you were sick, necessary. Excusable if brought forth as evidence by others, or each other, or yourselves. 

But this is different. 

It’s intentional. No plausible deniability in sight. Heat blooms in your chest and between your legs. He feels so far away. 

“Frankie.” 

“Hmm?”

“Would it be weird if I asked you to hold me?” 

He lets out an amused scoff. The bed squeaks and shifts as he rolls on his side as you scoot closer to each other. His hands find you under the covers and he pulls your back to his chest, tucking one arm under your head while the other wraps around your belly. 

“It’s not weird,” he murmurs, pausing for a second before saying, “It should be, but it isn’t.” 

This makes you smile. It’s a relief to hear him say it. You relax into his embrace and rest your arm atop his at your waist. 

The darkness surrounding the two of you seems to hold space for honesty. It’s that sort of feeling you got at sleepovers when you were younger, when you and your friends would whisper secrets to each other in the dark. 

“I have nightmares sometimes,” you tell him. 

“I know.” 

You know he knows. He’s been there to wake you from them and calm you down in their wake at least a dozen times. Regardless, there’s this buzzing under your skin like you need to tell him. 

“I can never remember what happens except—except, um,” you blink your eyes open and swallow the thickness in your throat, shaking your head, “There’s this feeling, like… I know that he’s chasing me, and if he catches me, I’m never going to escape.” 

His body seems to tense a little. He looks down at you, “Who?” 

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” 

You can feel the question occupying his tightened muscles, and say, “It’s not you.” 

“But if you don’t know—”

“It started before you,” you lace your fingers with his, letting your eyelids drift shut, “And, besides, I don’t feel like that with you. I feel… safe.” 

He relaxes around you with a sigh that sounds like relief. 

“When I lived alone it was hard. I’d wake up alone and scared, and I couldn’t fall back asleep,” you murmur, “But it’s been better lately.” 

He hums. The noise vibrates against the nape of your neck. His thumb brushes against your midriff. 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you admit, “I guess… I just want you to know it’s nice having you here.” 

The wet swallow of his throat makes you start to worry you said too much, that you showed too much belly. You brace for him to pull away. But when his voice breaks the silence, it sounds raspy and damp. Heartfelt. 

“You don’t think I’m a burden?” 

You almost laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s ridiculous.  

“Not even a little. I’m happy to have you.” 

“I’m happy to be here, mariposa.” 

The nickname stings a little. A sharp, precise prick to the center of your chest. But his arms squeeze around you tighter, bringing you closer to his warmth. 

Your lips curve into a slight smile and you feel the tug of drowsiness on your limbs. 

“No funny business back there tonight, Franklin,” you mumble out, your words fuzzy with fatigue. 

“Yes ma’am,” he nuzzles into your hair, his own voice groggy and low, “Best behavior.” 

That warm, soft intimacy settles deep in your bones and makes you feel at ease. Safe. Loved. And it’s not long at all before sleep overtakes you.

Your Friday nights used to be synonymous with drinking. 

It meant going out to the bar to get drunk and dance and maybe find another lonely soul to spend time with. It meant blackouts and bar tabs and spending your Saturdays absolutely fucking miserable. 

Truth be told, you much prefer your new Friday night ritual: Movie Night. 

You and Frankie each get to pick any movie you want and stuff your faces while watching them back-to-back. After work, you pick him up from his AA meeting and load up on junk food, then head home. 

Tonight, the two of you walk side-by-side down aisle 5 of your neighborhood grocery store, moving at a leisurely pace across the glossy white tiles. A country music station broadcasts softly over the store’s speakers. From the cash registers up front, you hear the rhythmic beep of customers being rung up. Probably the only other people in here, honestly, it’s fucking dead. 

“What’s your movie pick?” Frankie asks while tossing a bag of classic potato chips into the red basket hanging from the bend of his elbow, “And I swear to god if you say Moulin Rouge! I’m instituting a no-repeat policy.” 

Your laughter ricochets down the aisle and you shake your head, “Don’t act like you don’t like that movie! I know you do.” 

“I mean yeah, but… there are other movies.” 

“Other… movies…?” 

He snorts and shakes his head at you. 

“Actually, I wanna watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” you tell him, slowing to narrow your eyes at a bag of salt and vinegar kettle chips, “Do I want pretzels or salt and vinegar chips?” 

“Why not both?” he shrugs. 

You scrunch your nose up, tossing your head from side-to-side, then grab the kettle chips and drop them into your basket, “What’s your movie pick?”

“I’m between Dazed and Confused and The Wolf of Wall Street,” he says, glancing over at you. 

Your face lights up and you coo, “Ohhh Dazed and Confused, please!”

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” 

He grins at you and shrugs, “I will take your opinion into consideration.” 

“What, I can’t help you choose?” 

“It’s my pick,” Frankie chuckles, “You can’t pick my pick!” 

You roll your eyes at him. The two of you round the corner, merging into the vacant main aisle, and you say, “Fuck, I want ice cream.”

“I want a fucking drink,” he mutters offhandedly, then notices your concerned stare and says, “Sorry.” 

“Do you really?” 

His brow furrows as he considers this, eventually admitting, “In a way, yeah.”

You know you shouldn’t take it personally. He’s an alcoholic. But that rationale doesn’t stop the ache that spreads across your chest. 

Frankie must recognize your hurt, because he nudges you and adds, “Not because I don’t like this or anything.”

You give him a warm, reassuring smile as you turn down the freezer aisle. He continues. 

“It just lingers, I guess. Like I think I could drink and be fine,” he comes to a stop in front of the ice cream, glancing around before staring forward into the freezer like it holds all the answers, “Everything is just so… raw without it. All the feelings I’ve never dealt with, they keep bubbling up and it’s—I don’t know, it’s a lot.” 

It surprises you that he’s talking about this so openly, in a public place and everything. Two months ago you could not have dragged these words from his mouth under any circumstances. 

You nod as you study him, “Well, um… I know it’s hard, but I’m glad you’re doing it.”

He doesn’t really react, just continues to look at the ice cream. His eyes are a million miles away, though. Lost in thought. You lay your hand on his shoulder and graze your thumb against him, “Francisco.”

His jaw tightens. 

“Hey, look at me.” 

He blinks a few times, then swings his gaze to meet yours. 

“I mean it. It’s been a pleasure getting to know the real you, in all your, uhhh,” you stop and try to come up with something eloquent, landing on, “sober glory. I know it’s a lot. But I can see that it’s making a huge difference. You’re so far beyond where you started. It’s… it’s really brave to choose sobriety. I’m proud of you, Frankie.” 

It all kind of spills out of you. A collage of sentiments you’ve been keeping to yourself thrown crudely together here in the middle of the freezer aisle. 

His brow creases, eyes all dewy as they flick around your face. You worry that what you said doesn’t make sense, or that maybe it was insensitive. But then, his basket falls to the floor with a clatter and he pulls you into a hug. 

Again, you’re taken by surprise. 

You just stand there for a moment, kind of awkward with your basket dangling in one hand. 

He squeezes you tighter. Unbridled appreciation flows from him. Your stomach flutters and tears prick your eyes. You drop your basket to properly return the gesture, wrapping both arms around his torso, pulling him close. 

The warmth of his body surrounds you. You take a deep breath, inhaling the comforting musk of his skin, exhaling tension, melting into this softness. 

Frankie sniffles and kisses the crown of your head, murmuring into your hair, “Thank you.” 

You part ways, both taking a step back to see the others’ glossy, red-tinged eyes. 

And you’re not sure exactly why, but then you both laugh. Not in a nervous way. More like joy. It bubbles beneath your skin and makes you feel hopeful. 

He picks his basket up off the ground and clears his throat, turning back to the freezer door, “Anyway, ice cream.” 

When the end credits roll on Dazed and Confused, you stand up off the couch and start towards the kitchen, asking Frankie, “Need anything?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” he answers with a yawn. 

You pull open the cupboard and find a bag of popcorn, then toss it in the microwave. While you wait for it to pop, you check your phone. Three unread messages. 

> RORY: > Hey > How was work?  > Doing anything fun tonight? 

“Hey, I was thinking,” Frankie says as he shuffles past the dining room table, into the kitchen. You set your phone down on the counter and cross your arms, looking up at him. 

“Next week is Sarah’s birthday, Ang is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want me to see if she would let you come?” 

The question leaves you momentarily speechless. You never thought it would be a possibility, and the offer completely blindsides you. 

Your mouth gapes open and you blink, “I, um—well, I—”

“If you want to, I mean.” 

You frown and meet his eyes, “Well, yeah, obviously I want to, but is Angie really ok with that?” 

“I’ll talk to her,” he says, leaning back on the counter next to you, “She’s been more receptive lately. And—and I think if you brought Rory, she would feel more reassured, that, um…”

Your stomach drops like a rock. 

A clusterfuck of messy emotions tangle and twist inside your body. At the tip of your tongue sits the question: That, what, there’s nothing going on between us? 

You look over at him and search his face. It’s unreadable. He’s frozen like he knows he came dangerously close to mentioning the elephant in the room and doesn’t know what to do next. 

The air thickens. 

Moments go by that feel like centuries.

You can’t stand it anymore, and lead him to continue the thought, “That what?”

He turns to face you and looks fucking terrified. Forehead creased. Eyes wide. Lips parted like apologies are about to come spilling out of them. 

You hold his gaze. Try not to notice the pungent energy pulsing between your bodies, or the way his eyes soften when he looks at your mouth and takes a step towards you. 

For one heart-stopping moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. 

A beep sounds from the microwave. 

He looks to the source, trance broken, but your eyes stay trained on him. On the elongated bob of his throat swallowing nerves. On the restless, twitchy movements that suddenly seem to possess him. 

When he notices you’re still staring at him, he only allows a brief glance before dropping his gaze to the ground and shoving his hands in his pockets, finally saying, “I—I just mean that I think she’ll be ok with it. And—and Sarah would be excited to see you.”

You pause before you react, trying to decide whether or not to ask him the question tearing apart your insides like a rabid dog: Do you want me to go so I can see Sarah, or so you can continue to lie to your wife?

Simultaneously, you cannot ask him and you need to know.

You tell yourself: He’s in recovery. He needs support, not criticism. 

You say: Let him figure out the missing pieces in his life and put it back together. Even if the shape it takes breaks you. 

“Ok,” you give him a tight nod and push off the counter, pulling the microwave door open, “If she’s fine with it, I’d love to go.” 

“Yeah?”

You pinch the corner of your bloated popcorn bag and pull it out, nudging the microwave door closed, then turn to face him, but don’t look up, “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

A small, distant voice says: You fucking coward. 

[blu-ish]

🌆▪️Silent Nights▪️

Summary: Someone is sending Shadow mysterious gifts?! [erroneous gift's at that..] leading up to Amy's annual New Year's extravaganza party. Will he be able to figure out who this mysterious pitiful present giver is, before Team Dark sets off on their year lasting G.U.N mission? H-Hey don't ask me, read for yourself! ;)

▪️▪️▪️

Sharp ruby eyes were fixed on the clock, the one that made it's soul purpose agonizing the black hedgehog with it's earsplitting ticking; one that seemed to echo in the otherwise empty G.U.N headquarters. It was already half past eleven, and Shadow wanted to go back to his apartment.

The hour's lethargic hex never reached the ebony agent, it rarely did. Compared to the sluggish movements and gaping yawns the occasional G.U.N solider gave as they retired for the night. Shadow was practically wide awake.

He would temporarily tear his eyes away from the clock to give a cordial nod to the periodic solider who passed him; who in return would either grumble a muffled "night..." though their mask, or salute hastily.

The clock would ring every hour, he wondered if he stared at it long enough it would burst into flames.

At approximately 12:01am, Rouge unceremoniously swung open the doors that led to Commander Towers' office.

"Good morning hun! Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long~" The bat's silklike voice was a welcoming change to Shadow's sensitive ears.

"What happened?" He stated flatly. Earning him a melodramatic sigh and a sorrowful look from the other. He was just stating the obvious.

"Well, apparently someone below screwed up on the one thing they're supposed to be doing. So Team Dark get's to be their clean up crew."

Shadow crossed his arms with a hum, closing his eyes in thought. Rouge continued as they gradually walked away from the lobby.

"Trust me deary, it's a complete mess..." She pressed her gloved finger to her temple, she was drained, he could tell.

He glanced down toward her arm, where she held some folders between them, she slipped them to Shadow and he scanned the pages as they approached Team Dark's office; well, more like Rouge's office, Shadow and Omega only shared the name plates plastered on the door.

"Shamar..?" Shadow recited, the bat hummed tunefully in agreement as she effortlessly slid her keycard through to open the door.

"It's on the whole other side of Mobius, I know." She chuckled, "I'll give you the spill once we get Omega and get the hell out of here."

He agreed, and carefully closed the folder. Rouge was never keen on repeating herself, no matter how trivial.

The lights automatically switched on as the sound of her heels clicked against the polished floor. Lavish wasn't even a close comparison to the grand zeal of the office, it was so... Rouge.

Gem's were lovingly placed on valuable furniture; oh, they weren't real though, those were devotedly hidden in her bedroom, away from prying eyes. Soft sofas, chique wooden tables and bookshelves gave the room a antique feeling, one that Shadow didn't necessarily dislike.

Well, until you looked at the corner near the back of the room, where a huge machine was plugged into the wall. Otherwise known as E-123 Omega.

Rouge sighed, patting the bots frame. "Wake up sleeping beauty, we're off~"

The thumping of metal plates echoed slightly as she moved away to shove some things in her purse from her desk. Omega's form shifted as he stood up, red optics focused on the two Mobians--well, Mobian and one half.

"I HAVE BEEN SITTING AT FULL POWER FOR APPROXIMENTLY 10 HOURS. ONE COULD ASK HOW LONG IT TAKES TO OBTAIN INFORMATION?" Omega's booming robotic voice seemingly questioned.

Shadow noted Rouges clasped hands gripping their respective fabric when she turned towards the bot, if she wasn't careful, he was sure they would rip.

"Well, for someone who slept all day, you sure are grouchy! I would gladly switch places next time if you believe you could do better, dear."

Omega's pause almost pulled a breath of a laugh from Shadow, who was leaning against the wall eyeing the duo. The robot shifted, knowing better than to provoke a sleep deprived bat woman.

"ROAST ACKNOWLEGED. I SHALL NOW, LAY OFF."

"Thank you. Now!" Rouge clapped. "Lets be off, if you boys behave the rest of the way home maybe I'll let you in on the mission details instead of letting you go in blind." Shadow, who had already grabbed her faux-- totally not stolen coat, eyed her.

"Of course, I only stayed here with you outside Towers' door until midnight to make sure you didn't fly home half asleep..."

Rouge gasped breathlessly, "My hero~". He wasn't amused.

After slipping on her coat, she patted the hedgehog on the cheek playfully. "In all seriousness dear, I want you to know I appreciate it, it's more than Robo Aurora offered here."

"I WOULD NEVER FALL VICTIM TO A SPINNING WHEEL."

-------

The reunited trio made they're way to G.U.N's private parking lot, where Shadow parked his prized motorcycle. He had drove Rouge to the meeting with Towers, her being the Team Leader always led to her getting the bulk of the mission information firsthand, not that Shadow minded, he would rather stare at that clock than Towers' disapproving stare.

His vehicle was outfitted with a detachable sidecar, one big enough for Omega that is, Shadow had previously thought of it as a bit silly and impractical in a serious situation. But it grew on him, and well, Omega tolerated it.

"Ugh, the sooner I take a shower the better." Rouge complained for what seemed like the millionth time on their walk outside. He could only hum in agreement, bending down to open a bag on the side of his bike, pulling out his leather jacket and slipping it on, careful of his inhibitors.

"LET US RUN ALL RED TRAFFIC LIGHTS." Omega stated, already seated in the side car, his arms awkwardly held at his side.

"What, no." Shadow breathed, grabbing his keys from his quills and inserting them, throwing his leg over to straddle the bike as it rumbled to life.

Rouge joined him, leaning over to pat Omega in the side car.

"Now, now Omega, we respect the traffic laws--for the most part *AHEM*, anyways how do you expect Shadow to speed with you in the sidecar?" She obviously teased, and Shadow obviously ignored.

"CHALLENGE ACCEPTED."

Shadow grumbled, and as he sped away from the gates of the parking lot, who would've noticed if he passed just one or two red lights to get a roar of laughter out of his friends.

-------

"And that's the gist of it, I suppose." Rouge waved her fork carefully, before using it to take another bite of lasagna.

The team had laid out the papers in a semi-organized order on the kitchen table, Shadow balanced his plate on his leg as he made mental notes of the info Infront of him.

"Should have guessed it was Robotnik related." He sighed, placing one of the papers down in-front of Omega to scan.

The bat adjusted her hair towel. "It does appear like old eggy is up to his usual antics again hm?"

"AS LONG AS E-123 OMEGA STANDS. HIS DAYS ARE NUMBERED." The E-series robot proclaimed, raising his arm swiftly in the air to make a strong fist.

"There's just one thing I don't understand..." Shadow gestured toward the papers in question. "A whole year of reconnaissance, why?"

"Remember the little friend below I mentioned earlier? You can thank them for that~" Rouge stabbed another piece of the pasta before delicately placing it between her teeth. Shadow almost felt sorry for it.

Apparently, Robotnik had plans to make another lab in Shamar, any previous information regarding it was accidently deleted by an unfortunate intern at headquarters. He could piece that much together at least.

The people there had a very high likely hood of being ambushed, and as capable of self-preservation as they had the likelihood of being, the reconnaissance info was supposed to be given to them. They were practically in the dark so to speak.

Which is where Team Dark comes in. To shine some light on the situation, it was a simple task, but a long one. A year long.

"Hm, I'm sure their receiving a party full of thanks." The agent gathered the file, neatly evening out the papers before placing them back in the folder. "But, what matters now is the mission. We need to prepare."

They would need to borrow a vehicle from G.U.N, something sturdy and could fit something motorcycle sized. Plenty of food, medical supplies, weapons and ammo. Rouge was an awful driver at night so Shadow was already planning driving shifts, they would either go by plane or boat from there and---

"Well, of course! But there's one, tiny problem~" Cutting off Shadows semi-mental thoughts. She set her plate down and made her famous "I could do no wrong" face. Great, Shadow thought.

"As in?"

"I kinda sorta already promised Rose we'd be there for her New Years Party." Rouge gleamed. "I wouldn't want to disappoint the little girl, would you?"

It had completely slipped his mind, Rose had her yearly party at her cottage for all her friends. The trio had just started attending recently, as in the past 3 years straight.

Of course, it's not as though it was uncommon for one or two of them to had missed an occasional party due to, oh he doesn't know... maybe, because of something IMPORTANT.

"Rouge, her party is the same day we are supposed to leave... how do you exactly plan we prepare to leave to another continent and drop by in that time?" Shadow's quills ruffled, Amy would understand why they wouldn't be able to make it. Did this bat have no care for his mental schedule?

"I know it sounds crazy, but we could make it work! We prepare in the morning, drive by to say goodbye--maybe fluster a certain red head~ and be off!" Rouge waves dismissably, he couldn't believe it.

They were gonna be late because of an Echidna.

"Rouge--"

"Nuh-huh! I'm pulling the Team Leader card on this one fellas! If I'm going to be deprived of my boyfriend for one whole year I'm at least saying goodbye!" Shadow groaned in response, her argument oddly made some sense he supposed.

"Alright, fine. We have a week anyways, I'm sure we'd be done by then..." He thinks anyways... but the last thing he'd want is a depressed Knuckle deprived Rouge on their roadtrip to Shamar. He can only take so many narrated description's of his "sexyness" to bear.

"Aww! I knew you would agree sweetie!" She smiled brightly, a yawn escaping her lips. "Now if you'd excuse me dears I REALLY need to sleep... my head is pounding." Shadow nodded, and offered to take her hair towel. As soon as her door shut he turned to Omega, who was quietly observing from the side.

"Your on my side right?"

"OMEGA CHOOSES THE SIDE OF DESTRUCTION AND CARNAGE."

....

....

"ONLY IF YOU PROMISE THIS NEW VEHICLE HAS GUNS."

"Of course Omega."

"YES."

-----

Shadow supposed, maybe, it would all work out. He slumped on the couch, relishing in not standing any longer than he had too.

He'd feel better as soon as he gets started tomorrow, he's sure. Besides, it would be nice to see everyone before they left. It's only appropriate, the well mannered thing to do. The year would fly by and they'd be just in time for another one of Amy's New Year parties, one they would be able to enjoy.

Glancing out the window from their apartment, he looked at the dancing lights of distant vehicles, and the blue hue the night gave above the towering buildings..

So why did leaving feel so bittersweet?

[ivory-lamps]

[Designs of Happiness] A01: ep.1 Well-being by myself

Characters: Nagi Location: Hama Summary: One night, an intriguing radio show can be heard at Flower Laundry. Proofreader: Shay

ㅤ

Translator’s Notes ☽.‎˖

レとい (retoi): This is an 18Trip slang based on the English word “retro”; their meanings are more or less the same.

dazzle: The in-game version of Twitter / X.

PeChat: The chatting app in the game.

In the end, I’m just someone worthless – someone who won’t be able to reach the “happiness” the majority is seeking, no matter what.

I was taking a break in preparation for tomorrow, drifting in that “happy” time, in the tenderness of the lonely night.

–That’s the sort of day it was.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ📍 Location: Flower Laundry – flashback

Arisa: “We’re hosting this radio show from Hama Studio No.3…”

“This is Arisa and~”

Teresa: “Teresa’s~”

Arisa & Teresa: “Intelli-radio: Aristotle.”

Nagi: Sonia, could you turn the radio up?

Sonia: Sure thing.

Teresa: “The rain’s not stopping anytime soon, huh~”

Arisa: “Yes. It’s very quiet – perfect for reading, studying or enjoying some time to yourself.”

“After the advertisement, we’ll discuss mechanisms that allow one to feel happy, but please forgive us if it’s a bit longer than usual. We’ll blame it on the lovely evening.”

Sonia: …….

Nagi-san, you’ve been tinkering with the bike for a while now, but you’ve had dinner, right?

Nagi: Hm? …Oh.

Now that you mention it, I think I might be super hungry.

Sonia: Geez~!

You’re on the clock right now – I’ll bring you a sandwich you can eat with one hand in the meantime.

Nagi: Thanks. If you weren’t here, Sonia, I think I would’ve turned into a mummy somewhere in the middle of the city.

“A mummy has been discovered in the middle of the city”...! Flower Laundry has turned into a new sacred place…?

Sonia: That’s bad luck.

Pet robots like me were created to lessen the number of unhappy people, you know.

Please wash your hands and wait for a moment.

Nagi: …Is it late already?

I’ll take the motorbike back into the garage…

Arisa: “Businesses and countries compete with each other for the development of the economy and as a result, the environment was destroyed – most of the resources were all dried up.”

“Do they need to compensate for that? Has humanity achieved the true meaning of prosperity? The answer is NO. Even if the country’s GDP increases four or five-fold, this nation’s level of happiness has been a straight line for the past 100 years.”

Teresa: “What~!? Wait, 100 years ago? That’s when washing machines didn’t have the function to dry clothes automatically, right? They also had to wash their dishes… No, wait. They cleaned the dust off the floors themselves? Right?”

Arisa: “They used brooms 100 years ago, didn’t they?”

Teresa: “That’s so [1]retoi~! No way. I wouldn’t survive in an era without smart appliances. It gives me the chills imagining a world without a food printer.”

Sonia: Here’s your food! It’s from the food printer, though.

Nagi: Thanks – Looks like it’ll be a timely meal.

Sonia: Timely?

Nagi: Just talking to myself. Time to dig in.

Arisa: “I understand your ways of being a smart appliances entertainer, but despite feeling a sense of fulfilment with all the appliances, does your heart feel fulfilled, Teresa? Are you sleeping well every day?”

Teresa: “Hmm~ Actually, now that you mention it, they’re convenient but I have a feeling I might just be driven by the time and cost-effectiveness. Despite that, I end up spending all my time on [2]dazzle…”

Arisa: “We want more convenience~ More annual income~ There’s no end to our desires, huh. Then, do you want to try and leave this eternal cloister? I’m sure from the very beginning, the younger generation already had a political faction or two in mind that they wouldn’t want for themselves or for society.”

Teresa: “Sorry. I really don’t like that. Our dreams and jobs are what make life worth living for – it’s fun competing with each other to grow, too. I also want to obtain the things I want and be rich – that’s the sort of happiness I want.”

Arisa: “You’re right about that. That’s precisely why I’ve come up with this survival strategy…”

“The era to learn about the psychology of happiness is upon us!”

Teresa: “The psychology of happiness?”

Nagi: …What’s that?

Sonia: Oh! A message for the shop’s [3]PeChat... Hmm.

Nagi-san, we’ve received a request. They say they’ll come pick it up 10 minutes later.

The client wishes to create a bouquet to cheer up his girlfriend who’s in low spirits after making a mistake at work!

Nagi: ⸻

Sonia: Nagi-saaaan.

Nagi: Oh… sorry. Can you ask him what colour his girlfriend likes?

Sonia: I already have. It’s blue, apparently.

Nagi: Blue, huh… blue.

I think the nemophila we bought this morning will be perfect, then. Add in a large calla and a sky blue baby’s breath…

I suppose I’ll add some delphinium and… bluestars to accentuate it.

Sonia: What sort of ribbon do you have in mind?

Arisa: “In other words, the psychology of happiness is research that investigates the engineering potential to recreate happiness for all ages and genders.”

Nagi: The potential to recreate… happiness…?

Sonia: Nagi-saaan. Are you listening?

Nagi: I am. Could you take out the thin light blue ribbon from the back?

Sonia: Okay. I’ll leave the card here, too.

Nagi: Than–

Teresa: “You’re saying the reason why some people find it easy to be happy is because it’s hereditary!?”

Nagi: What!?

Sonia: Huh!?

You gave me a fright there… Please don’t shout all of a sudden like that. What on earth happened?

Arisa: “That’s right. 48% of it is from our DNA.”

Nagi: ……

Sonia: Nagi-san?

Arisa: “Just like how some people find a certain dish spicy, there are people who can easily find happiness and it’s something that’s been fixed when it comes to our DNA – the moment we were born.”

Teresa: “You’re kidding? Then, you’re telling me that half of our happiness level is something that was already fixed when we were in our mother’s womb!?”

Nagi: ……

Sonia: Are you finished? The client will be here soon.

Nagi: ……! Oh, right. I should hurry.

Sonia: I’ll cut the flower stems under the water for you.

Nagi: Thanks. There’s also the blue gift wrapping pape–

Sonia: I’ve already spread it out!

*Doorbell jingles*

Customer: Um… I ordered a bouquet earlier.

Nagi: …Oh.

Sorry, could you wait a little longer? I’m just about finished with it.

Teresa: “What about the other 52%, then? You’re not going to say it’s due to the environment we were raised in or something like that, are you?” 

Arisa: “No, the influence from our surroundings is just 10%. As for the other 42%...”

Teresa: “...Is it based on our actions?”

Arisa: “That’s right. This means you can control the other 42% of your overall happiness level.”

Nagi: Wow. I never thought of it that way.

Customer: What?

Nagi: …Wait, is that really true if you think about it?

Arisa: “It’s the same as knowing the correct dieting method – Anyone can have the knowledge and skills needed to be happy as long as they know the right method. It means it’s all up to you how you blossom.”

Nagi: Even if half of it is left to fate, the other half is uncertain… If it’s that simple… then maybe I could…? No, it’ll probably be impossible. It’s a waste of time to even think about it. Getting my hopes up will just leave me depressed.

Customer: Um… are you alright? You’ve been mumbling to yourself for a while now…

Nagi: Oh… Sorry, it’s nothing.

Customer: Right…

Nagi: Thank you for waiting – here is the completed bouquet. What do you think?

Customer: Wow…! It’s beautiful. It’s exactly as I imagined it to be – I’m sure my girlfriend will love it.

Nagi: I’m glad to hear that.

Oh, right. I almost forgot… Sorry, could you give it back to me? There’s something else I forgot to add.

Mmm…

Customer: Mm?

Nagi: Mmmm…

Customer: Um… what are you doing…?

Nagi: Adding in a thought. In other words…

I added a little spell that will make the receiver happy. Now, your girlfriend will be so delighted she’ll start skipping.

Customer: Skipping…

Nagi: Oh, but I think there will be people who will be more than happy to receive flowers when they’re feeling down, even without my little spell, though.

Anyway, I hope you and your girlfriend can skip happily together.

Customer: O–Okay…? Thank you.

Nagi: Thank you for your patronage.

Sonia: Thank you!

Teresa: “Oh, it’s time already? What a shame, I wanted to chat more.”

Sonia: Phew… We managed to make it in time.

Nagi: Yeah, it’s all thanks to your help, Sonia.

Sonia: It’s a piece of cake!

Arisa: “You’ve been listening to your entertaining psychology guides: Arisa and Teresa.”

Nagi: Well, in any case, good job… Let’s do our usual thing..

Arisa: “Alright, let’s meet again when the fountain of knowledge gushes out.”

Sonia: A high-five, right? 3, 2, 1!

Arisa & Teresa: “See you again.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ▶︎ ♫ •၊၊||၊|။|||||||• ♫ L4mps OP Song: Ivory

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Index ≡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤNext →

[jiminrings]

nesting period drabble where 478jk just has the urge to buy every. single. floor couch. and it’s oc who has to hold him back 😭😭😭😭

478: drabble

alternatively, jungkook’s a little skittish :O

[ 478 masterlist ]

Jungkook’s a sight to behold when you’re on your third trimester.

Your husband’s a force to be reckoned with when he signs up the two of you to parenting classes that are more in number than the workshops you’ve ever attended in your life. You get so much emails to the point they’re automatically redirected to your spam folder, only being aware of said classes when you wake up to Jungkook hovering above you with his watch on your face.

He’s something else when his couvade syndrome’s resumed and it’s much, much more raging than the first time around. You’re not imagining it when you look at him walking the same way that you do, highlighted by the little grunts every now and then.

Jungkook has taken up every useful hobby and planned every tiny detail for him to be as involved as he could, your usual delivery guy also being the judge of it by the way he’s just delivered a top-of-the-line sewing machine just because Jungkook wanted to know how to sew onesies for your baby girl — last week, half of his truck was occupied just by your husband’s parcels alone.

He’s predictable for the most part and although you encounter instances every now and then where Jungkook exceeds your expectations, he’s off the roof this time with the way he just won’t stop fussing.

“Ah, ah! Sit down, baby,” he tuts for the hundredth time, nudging you back to bed as he fluffs up the pillows surrounding you, again. He’s fulfilled the doctor’s reminders and more, even going so far as to give you some of his own. 

Jungkook won’t stop magnifying every single thing you do that requires for you to lift even your pinky finger because at the very first sight of it, he scrambles to do it for you. He’s already at your beck and call even if you don’t do the latter, his eagerness to aid you someway and somehow reigning.

“Jungkook, for the last time, we don’t have to meal prep as early as now,” you groan, seeing his nose buried on his phone with yet another twinkle in his eyes that you can’t misplace. It’s the same twinkle he has when he sees a free crochet pattern online; the same luster when he sees a discount code to your favorite takeout place.

“Not meal prepping yet. I’m just-…” he mumbles distractedly beside you, the tip of his nose almost touching his phone screen as he zooms in. He’s not even wearing his glasses yet with the way his brightness is set up to the maximum and how he’s so close, you could see the reflection on his eyes.

The furniture tab is open again.

“Baby,” you sigh, a breathless laugh leaving you quite literally because just the thought of it makes you short of inhales. “We don’t need another floor couch.”

“But it’s baby pink,” Jungkook frowns, looking up at you briefly. He’s unconsciously pouting and it’s the same look he gave you when he started fixing up and rearranging the furniture in the house and you were (initially) against it, the whine that’s bubbling up in his throat already starting to pour. 

“We already have a huge baby blue one in the living room and we have the lavender one for our bedroom coming in, remember?” you remind, trying to coax out the phone from his hands little by little but he doesn’t relent.

“But the lavender’s tiny compared to the one in the living room!” he groans, unwilling to give you his phone as he keeps it out of reach. “And our house is huge. We don’t just have one living room.”

“We already have existing couches!”

“They’re not the floor ones! They have these stupid, angular legs on them. They’re so practical and easy to clean. I don’t want that,” Jungkook goes on a tangent, tossing his phone to the end of the bed in frustration before curling up to shove his face to the crook of your neck.

“Shh. You’re just nesting, Jungkook. It’s gonna pass,” you run your hand through his hair, tearing out another frustrated whine from him.

“But it’s not going to! Y/N, baby, it’s baby pink. It’s been sold-out forever and what are the chances that it’s back in stock right when we’re nesting?” he convinces you with wide eyes, his enthusiasm rubbing off on you until he brings up a point you’ve been dying to make since you saw his sent folder.

“You sent some very insistent and desperate emails to the company and you kept mentioning that I was your very famous, very pregnant wife.”

He deadpans, his eyes narrowed at the way you just can’t contain yourself from giggling to his face. He accepts the entertainment on your part because quite frankly, he’s not ashamed about what he did at all.

Jungkook settles to the crook of your neck deeper until he’s fully enveloped by your scent, muttering the key to which the two of you go soft at immediately.

“Imagine it in her room, come on. When you’re feeding her, you can sit on it. When we’re paranoid and the baby monitor won’t do, we can nap on it. When she can support her head, she’ll be all up on the couch,” he convinces you, pouting with a pitch you find yourself fawning over. “Please? For Hwayoung?” 

You don’t need to be begged twice, surrendering with a sigh.

“Get me my wallet.”

[stevebattle]

Mint (model 4200) by Evolution Robotics, Pasadena, CA (2010). The Mint, as seen in the top photograph, is a cleaning robot that dusts and wet-mops hard surface floors. Functional and design prototypes of the Mint are shown in the second and third photographs. The robot uses an indoor navigation system called NorthStar, with a cube that projects four infrared dots onto the ceiling, used by the robot for positioning and orientation.

"Evolution Robotics was founded to develop the first consumer grade robot operating system. The company overcame substantial technical challenges and licensed their tech to consumer electronics companies. When the 2008 financial crisis hit virtually all products in development were cancelled by the company’s partners resulting in an 80% decline in revenues. With the capital it had left they made a “bet the company” wager and decided to take the leap and design and produce their own floor cleaning robot." – Evolution Robotics Epic Success.

"Mint automatically dusts and wet mops hard surface floors using popular cleaning cloths, such as Swiffer brand Dry and Wet Cloths and other similar products. Mint's innovations are grounded in the simple goal of making an appliance-grade product that reliably cleans consumers' floors and makes their lives easier. 'Similar to how the once manual chores of washing dishes or doing laundry evolved with the invention of the dishwasher and washing machine, floor cleaning has officially been replaced by an automated appliance that achieves the same result, if not better, than previous manual methods'" – Dr. Paolo Pirjanian (CEO of Evolution Robotics), Evolution Robotics Introduces Mint: The Evolution of Floor Cleaning.

[orangevtae]

A Dream is a Wish [Joel Miller x Reader]

Summary: While being in and out of counsciousness, Joel ends up dreaming of a scenery where everything is normal again, where Ellie is part of your lifes and where Sarah is alive with the three of you, truly the family dream that he always wanted.

Warnings: Fluff but hurt too. Alluring of episodes 6 and 7 of the show so SPOILERS. Blood and injuries. Stabilished relationship.

A/N: i'm gonna post as many Pedro and TLOU content as i can, i will 🥴🥴 enjoy! &lt;3

Joel trembled a little as he heard someone knock on his bedroom door, scaring him out of his deep slumber.

He didn't know what time was it but he could tell that it was early since the sunlight that came from his window shone right down on his face, making him squeeze his eyes and look to the clock on his bedside table. 07:00 AM shone deeply in red on the display of it and that made Joel frown cause there was no way he could have an automatic clock like this one cause there was no more use for it in the scenery where he lived now.

A little atonished by it, he took a look around the room, noticing that he wasn't on his trashy apartment on the Boston QZ with it's crampling walls and barely there furniture, instead, he was back on his old room on his old house in Texas and if he was founding it strange before, he was plenty sure that he had gone nuts now. Everything was the same with the only difference is that his clothes weren't around the room in a mess pile and on the other side of where he was lying, was an empty space that was neatly untouched. He got up and dressed some of his clothes that were gathered around the floor and got out of the room.

He heard some laugh coming from downstairs and he distinguished three different voices, the frown still deep on his forehead as he slowly got downstairs and stopped dead on his track at the scene he found when he looked to the kitchen.

You were making coffe for the both you on his coffee machine, the smell of it almost all around the house. Ellie was on the table, reading one of her comic books while probably waiting breakfeast be ready. And when he looked to the stove, Sarah was there, making her infamous scranble eggs.

Joel felt like crying, his eyes started to burn with unshed tears as he looked to Sarah's back, how her hair would move back and forth while mixing the eggs and ge even rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing right, that this wasn't just a trick his mind was putting on him.

"You could help your sister to make breakfeast you know?" you mumbled as pouring the coffe on two mugs.

"Why? i would probably burn whatever i try to touch, at least Sarah can make scranble eggs" Ellie shrug it off and you just shook your head at her.

"I think it's better like that, Ell's the worst at the kitchen and probably would put the house on fire trying to fry bacon" Sarah chuckled and Ellie sent her an mouthed "fuck off" that only made Sarah laugh louder and get back to the eggs.

"I saw that" you mumbled at her and a smirk was present on her face.

Joel quickly cleaned his face for any remanents of tears that could have fallen down without him noticing and got inside the kitchen, making the three of you turn towards him, soft smiles on the faces of three persons he loved most in the world. All together.

"Look who woke up!" you smiled at him.

"I was thinking that you had died in your sleep from heart attack or some other disease old people have" Ellie smirked up at him.

"Ellie!" you hissed at her "Jesus..."

"Morning dad!" Sarah beamed happily, turning the stove off and running to her father's arm, delivering a quick peck on his cheek.

"Good morning ladies, you slept well?" he let out after Sarah got back to the eggs

"We did, honey. Breakfeast ready so have a sit" you beamed at him.

"Mornin' grumpy" Ellie said to him as she got up, giving him a hug as she passed trough him to go to the kitchen.

"Mornin' kid" he hugged her back and walked to where you where at.

"Here" You said, handing him his mug of coffee while he got closer to the balcon on the kitchen.

"Thank you, darlin'" he said, giving a little kiss in your cheek.

"Erm...no pancakes?" Ellie asked as she looked on the cabinet that the pancake mix usually was.

"Ask your dad, he was supposed to buy it" you answered her, taking a sip of your coffee.

"Really dad?" Sarah frowned.

"I'm sorry, i promise i will buy a cake" he smiled at three of you.

It was in that moment that Joel noticed that this day was familiar to him, because that day happened before. That day was the day everything happened, the beggining of the pandemic, the day he had lost Sarah. He ate breakfeast with a frown on his face.

That day started similar to the one he's having now, but at the same time it was different. You and Ellie where on scene now, you reprimanding her and Sarah and Ellie laughing together at some pun she delivered were new things. Even Tommy was there, with the old man jokes. Everything was the same at the same time it wasn't.

The same dialogues where being told and heard with the additions of your and Ellie's comments, the table at the dinning room was full and there was laugh, bickering and...and looked out of picture even though this was right, Joel felt a happy buzz forming on the pity of his stomach.

"Honey?" he heard you mumble "Honey?"

"What?" he got out of his daze, he looked the hand that was on his now with a golden ring above one that had tiny diamonds in it, you got engaged and had an engagement ring? When he had given to you?

"You okay hon'? You seem out today, did you really slept well?" you asked concerned.

"I...i'm okay darling, just zoned out a bit. Nothing to worry for" he smiled at you.

"You sure?" you asked again, just to make sure.

"I am" he grabbed your hand and brought to his lips, delivering a kiss on your knuckles "Have i ever lied to you?"

"You did yes" you let out a chuckle, joking about it "But if you saying so"

"I am" he kissed your knuckles again "I know that lying to my wife means instant death"

"Okay, gross!" Ellie said outloud, she had a funny expression looking at you both.

"Yeah, we just want to have breakfeast without you two smooching each others faces" Sarah laughed, throwing a piece of her egg at you both.

"Hey, don't throw eggs at us cause you guys can't have smoochies" you said, mimicking kisses at both girls and you all laughed about it.

Joel didn't know what was happening but he wouldn't trade it for nothing. He got to see Sarah again, smiling, laughing, well. He got to see you and Ellie making her laugh, telling jokes and be silly. He got to see Ellie being comfortable at the table, like she was belonged to the picture, like she was always meant to be laughing and joking with Sarah.

He took a look around the house and got to see pictures of your wedding with him. How happy the both of you looked on them, how amazing and beautiful you looked on them, just like he imagined that it was going to be.

He decided to not go work, he would stay home with you, while waiting the girls to get back for school while he asked Tommy to say that he fell ill to cover him up. He got out to buy the cake he promised Sarah that day after he left her and Ellie at the school.

He got his new-old pulse clock that was now fixed when Sarah and Ellie got back from school, them saying that they had the money from him but still doing it for him, for his birthday.

When night came, the four of you (plus uncle Tommy of course) got to sing him Happy Birthday with ridiculous party hats on your heads and big smiles on your faces while he blow the candles.

"You wished something dad?" Sarah asked.

"If i tell, it won't come true" he frowned at her.

"C'mon dude, don't be a dick!" Ellie huffed and you all laughed.

"For all the days to be just like this one, with my family, the people i love most in the world" he smiled at all of you.

The night came and with it, Joel's worry. Worry that everything was gonna happen all over again and that he would fail Sarah again, that he would fail Ellie and that he would fail you.

But none of it happened, there wasn't anything going on the whole day, there wasn't police cars or helicopters going back and forward, Tommy wasn't arrested and Joel got to spend the whole night with his family with the four of you all together, just like he wanted, just like he always dreamed. Just like that day was supposed to go as: with his girls slept on his arms, your head resting on one of his thighs as his favorite movie was passing by on tv.

While Joel was dreaming, in and out of counciousness, you and Ellie were worried about him. He had a fever some hours ago and now he had a bit of sweat on his face as he mumbled on his sleep, he was smiling slightly.

Ellie managed to stitch his wound with thread and a needle she found while you runned around to find him medicine and things that could help to not infectionate his wound, it stopped bleeding when Ellie stitched up but maybe there could be an infection and Joel has lost too many blood, his skin has lost it's color and you were worried, the little bit of relief you could have was knowing that whatever he was dreaming about, was good cause Joel never smiled when he went to sleep and usually he had nightmares about the day Sarah died.

Even though you were worried with him and his well-being, you felt relief knowing that his pain didn't achieve him on his sleep this time, you had heard yours, Ellie's and Sarah's name come out of his mouth and you knew that at least for a while, he could be happy with the scenery that was going trough his head, while you and Ellie were trying your best to keep him alive.

[hidefdoritos]

So, for Christmas break, I've been staying with a very considerate older couple. When I got here, I found out that they're also...comfortably wealthy. I wish I could have been live-blogging my stay here, but this summary post will have to suffice.

MOSS'S MUSINGS: HOUSEGUEST EDITION.

-Ask which dishes you are allowed to use. I didn't know this would even be a question--I grew up with one set of dishes--but it matters. The dishes we've been using are red with snowmen on them. Tonight I put my soup in a red bowl with Christmas trees around the edge. That was wrong and bad. I have been told that they "prefer I not use that" because it is "for special occasions," and was told to "set it aside so I can hand-wash it." Side note, rich people also own things that can't go in the dishwasher. Thankfully they told me about this ahead of time.

-In general, they make requests when they mean to give you instructions. "I'm having some ladies over tonight, so if you'd like to clean the bathroom, that would be fine." = I, Moss, need to clean the bathroom before I leave for work this morning. They're secret instructions--instructions in a suggestion-shaped suit. I like to think of it as a secret code that I'm very smart for solving. It helps me to not tear my hair out.

-House thing that shook me to the core: They have heat vents on the floors under the sinks! So you can wash your hands or wash dishes and your feets don't get cold!

-Speaking of heat: heated mattress pads exist! It's like a heating pad for your whole body. High settings are nice for muscle aches; low settings are so cozy to sleep on.

-Speaking of mattresses: The guest room has a Sleep Number mattress. I think it's a scam. It's a balloon under your mattress to adjust the firmness/softness. I am 240 lbs. If it isn't over half inflated, my butt's on the bedframe.

-They are weird about trash. All food waste is handled separately and taken straight to the bin in the garage so it doesn't smell. The kitchen trash can lid has a motion sensor. It's automatic. Scared the daylights out of me when I first walked past it to get water at night.

-Speaking of water, ask what water you should use. Tap is not acceptable to some! My hosts have a fridge dispenser. Unfortunately it dispenses cold water. I have worked around this by getting water in advance of my needs and letting it change toward room temp. Also, you can't put drinks on the furniture! Wood is different from the plastic-coated OSB furniture that I grew up with. I must remember now to use coasters because any spills or drips can leave white marks.

-When they start discussing money, try not to let your mouth drop open at the amount of zeroes. One host bought a new car and was bragging to me about how he only paid $28,000, and that was actually $5,000 off for having a certain type of credit card. I just worked the mental math for the discount percentage to keep my brain from exploding. $5k is more than I paid for my entire car. My family motto is "Buy used and drive it 'til the wheels fall off." I did not say so.

-Most importantly, they've been extremely kind and generous to me. They dropped my rent for the month down to almost nothing. They bought any groceries I expressed interest in. I'm going back to campus with some of the best homemade soup of my life, and a coupon for an oil change, and a new appreciation for dark chocolate almonds. When I got here, my hostess had set up a desk for my sewing machine in her sewing room (!! a whole room for sewing!!) and taught me to use a rotary cutter and an iron that's entirely too complex.

tl;dr rich-ish people are super weird about some things you wouldn't expect, and your head will explode a few times, but they're still people and my overall experience has been great.



[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Damn it. You tried to sleep but couldn't. You felt lazy. You didn't do shit all day yet felt tired.

You wondered if this was normal. And your feet ached like hell. 

You were happy that you will get babies. Judging by your beautiful face and the handsome qualities of Quaritch, you know your babies will be exceptionally beautiful. 

But you just hated the bad side effects of being pregnant. You liked how your sexual libido increased. Your hair thickened and skin was glowing as hell. 

But the rest of the symptoms were bad.

Lyle was again assigned to look after you. While you were wallowing in self pity, he couldn't take it anymore. 

"Do you need a foot massage, buttercup?"

You looked over your shoulder. You were laying down on your back on your bed. You politely refused. 

"I can help. You look as if you're in pain."

You didn't see the desperation in his eyes. So you gave in. 

Lyle sat on the edge of your bed and began to stroke your swollen hobbit feet.

You let out a breath. It felt nice. Lyle felt his cock awakening as he touched you. Fuck. Screw this shit. He grabbed your face and kissed you hard. 

You tried to push him away but he held your face firm.

"Lyle wh-"

"I love you."

"Lyle…" you whispered. He bowed his head in shame.

"I know I shouldn't love the boss's fiance but I can't help it." 

Then an idea hatched up. 

"I want to run away to earth. I want to escape the base."

Lyle looked at you.

You told him to hack into the cameras in the room and give him a helicopter and in return you will sleep with him

Lyle immediately agreed. He turned off the cameras and deleted the part of where he kissed you. 

And so it happened. You awkwardly laid still as Lyle fucked you. He was more energetic than Quaritch. Well he was younger maybe that is why. He then would squeeze your big breasts and he then anally had sex with you. What a weirdo. How long was he waiting for you?

After he was out of breath, he gave you a small helicopter key. He will put an address and it will automatically land there. He then left and put the cameras back on. 

After cleaning yourself and the room. Quaritch came and of course he was horny. You decided to be sweet. 

You offered him wine and he drank it. But before he could fuck you, he collapsed on the floor. 

You then left 

True to his word, the helicopter landed to Grace's school and you decided to stay there. Grace was there to your surprise. Quaritch shot her in the arm and she was saved by the tribe.

Now she is healing and doing well. 

She saw your pregnancy and you told her your plans on going back to earth 

She agreed to help since she was the one who begged you to sleep with Quaritch to get on his good side. 

The months were long…. You wanted to quickly give birth so the small shuttle will take you back to your parents house. 

Luckily, your water broke. And Grace with the help of Jake and Norm transferred you to the abandoned container with medical machines. 

Jake and Norm had to leave and Grace stayed. She held your hand as you pushed out your three babies. 

They were so cute.

They all had bloody red lips, blue eyes and blonde hair. Well, your daughter's hair almost looked white. 

Nonetheless, they were exotically beautiful.

But suddenly you two heard a chopper land.

Soldiers slammed the door open and Quaritch stormed in. He looked so fuckin pissed. Scared you more than possible 

Grace threw a lamp at him but he ducked. She was detained and dragged away. The commotion caused your babies to cry. You held all three close in fear. Now what? You saw Lyle behind Quaritch but couldn't meet your eyes.

The Colonel ordered to be left alone and now you  what will happen. 

He was breathing heavy. He stared at your lovely face and then turned his attention to the wailing babies. You tried to hush them. 

The Colonel walked to you and grabbed your chin and made you look up at him.

"You successfully escaped me. If it wasn't for the radio signal of the computer Grace used. I wouldn't have found this container and you would have left for Earth."

"You tried to take my kids away from me." He squeezed your cheeks making your already fat plump lips more pouty.

"My babies from their father." He hissed with hate.

Your babies luckily stopped crying and were staring at Quaritch with blue eyes.

You gulped in nervousness. 

Quaritch sighed in exhaustion. "Hold on them tight."

The Colonel picked you up bridal style and you held on your babies as he walked to the chopper. 

You once again broke his heart.

When he came back from his shift to his shared room with you the night you ran away, he was for once happy. 

You smiled at him. He thought you finally loved him back. You offered him that homemade wine and he drank it. He suddenly felt sleepy and sluggish. He felt how he fell on his back. You didn't bother to care for his safety, the hard floor gave him a bruise on the head. You left him on the floor and didn't bother helping him to lay on the bed. Did you ever care for him a little? 

You ran away. You almost did once and this time you made it. 

He wasn't there to hold your hand as you pushed out his kids. He wasn't there when you were in your last semester of pregnancy. While you were gone, he searched the whole base. Then he found out how one old ass helicopter was missing and then he realized you were with the savages 

A traitor

And he saw the ticket you made online. You wanted to leave for Earth after giving birth.

You hated him that much? You hurt his feelings. Now he will have to hurt you. At least he will name his kids to the names he wants. 

[neonblessing]

10.

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

Club RED was a labor of love. A cyclopean eye of neon tubes stared down at the street from the facade of a beautiful temple to excess, bathing the darkening street in bloodred light which played through the mist kicked up by a nearby waterfall. The building was dark glass and darker stone, three stories tall and culminating in a domed roof. It wasn’t even 5 pm, but the line was pouring out the door and onto the sidewalk, foreign raincoats and umbrellas standing side by side with wet-haired Diluvian partygoers.

Shiv had never entered a nightclub through the front before. There’d been one club, the Magpie, that she’d frequented with her friends, but the owner was one of Ornarch’s devout and always let them skip the lines. Huh. She hadn’t been to the Magpie in years. She wasn’t even sure if it was still in business.

The line moved quickly, and before long, she was at the door. “Let’s see some ID.” There were two bouncers, identically dour and militaristic-looking men who loomed over her like a pair of sunglasses-clad statues, their suits custom-made to fit over the bulky structure of a mil-spec exocloak. Thin seams in the skin of their faces suggested the presence of subdermal armor plating to protect what the mechanized armor didn’t. One of them handled a scanner with the practiced care of a guy whose grip could crush a human skull.

Shiv showed them the card. “Kooler sent me.” The one with the scanner stared her down while the other barked a few quick words into a headset. If shit went south, the only viable exit was ducking the rope to the left, but Headset would make a grab for her and if those huge hands got a grip it was over. She’d need to distract him first, maybe blind him. Throw her coat in his face? She started to shrug it off her shoulder, just in case. Scanner continued to glower at her in a prolific display of disdain. He should be too far away to do anything, but just in case-

Headset spoke, snapping her out of her planning.

“Hm?” She’d missed what he’d actually said.

“Go on in. The boss is on the second floor.” Shiv pulled her coat back over her shoulder and brushed past the bouncers and into the club. She pushed her way past a heavy curtain of soundproof fabric and replaced the endless roar of the streets with the endless roar of Club RED’s speakers.

Water poured down gilded fountain walls and colored lights arced and scattered through thick smoke, produced by a mix of sweet-scented cigarettes and industrial fog machines. Waiters and waitresses wearing practically nothing served a very peculiar clientele: half of the patrons were exactly what she’d expected, the sort of wealthy-looking folks willing to spend fifteen credits on a can of beer; and the other half were all grizzled paramilitary types. The burning coal glow of their cybernetic eyes stared out at her through the fog, automatically seeking out her vital organs before flicking back to their drinks.

Shiv scaled the stairs to the second floor, taking a moment to look out on the dance floor from the balcony. The band’s frontwoman was more work of art than human, her limbs all formed from sweeping lines of carbon fiber and steel. Her guitar plugged into a port on the back of her neck, her quicksilver fingers dancing over the strings with surreal grace. She had a voice like an angel with a smoking habit.

“She’s quite something, ain’t she?” A woman’s voice came from behind Shiv. She turned to see Kurtz, for who else could it be? The owner of Club RED was maybe forty years old, a little shorter than Shiv, and built like a brick. Her head was clean-shaven, revealing dozens of tally mark tattoos, in sets of five, spreading from near her temple and across half of her head. Unlike everyone else, she was dressed simply and practically, in sturdy black pants and a tank top, and unlike everyone else, she had a gun at her hip, an antique revolver. Both of her eyes were red: one eye was flesh, with an iris that had either been dyed or transplanted. The other eye was metal, the iris glowing the exact same shade as the vast eye on the front of the building. She carried herself with an easy confidence, bordering on arrogance. “Are you the one Kooler mentioned?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Joan Kurtz, owner of Club RED and REDEYE PMSC. What brings you to my door?”

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