#and I’m working with the bitch I don’t like

[sylphidine]

@i-am-a-fish

From one of my longfics [it's dinner, not lunch, but it's delicious and everyone is happy]:

The vibrant, art-filled walls of SpaHa Soul never failed to send a shiver of happiness down Swatch’s spine. The Friday night after they got their job offer letter, they followed Uncle Julius to a corner glass-topped table, while Indigo pulled out a chair for Aunt Desiree. Catechu chatted with the guitarist setting up for the evening’s set and waved at Artist T., just emerging from the kitchen with plates for the group of diners in the opposite corner.

Uncle Julius had found this place about eight years ago and it had become THE go-to place for Dyer-Paletta family celebrations.   

And tonight they were here to celebrate Indo and Catto’s getting summer internships at the Wythe in Williamsburg, as well as Swatch’s internship.

“Chef’s choice tonight, sir,” Uncle Julius said to Artist T., after getting a hearty backslap from the proprietor. “All three of these fine young people, going out into the world and making their mark!”

“It’s a better world for you all being in it,” agreed Artist T., making a note on his pad and heading back through the swinging doors.

“I like the new eyeglasses, honey,” Aunt Desiree commented to Swatch. “You look good in aviators, and brown is a nice color for you.”

Swatch nodded.”The tint’s helpful for cutting out blue light, and since I expect I’m going to be spending a lot more time in front of screens with the new job, I figured they were worth a splurge.”

On the other side of the table, Indo was listing off all the different areas in the boutique hotel where he and his twin would be working during their ten weeks. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep a straight face when I’m answering phones and directing calls to ‘Le Crocodile’. It’ll probably get easier after a while. At least ‘Bar Blondeau’ sounds more normal. Only thing I’m worried about is getting there on time every day.”

“Better than the commute would have been if we’d gotten the gig at The Ludlow. That commute would have been a real bitch.” Catto caught his mother’s glare and muttered, “Sorry, mom.  It would have been a real bear .”

Uncle Julius laughed and then turned to Swatch. “You’re going to be cutting it awfully fine, between graduation and starting this new job. You’d better start looking at apartments now if you don’t think your landlady will extend your lease past June.”

“I know. Even with a decent salary, I’m either going to have to spend all my time commuting or all my money on a shoebox to live in.” They realized that it sounded like they were complaining, and quickly added with a laugh in their voice, “Or I could ask my favorite aunt to use her real estate agent superpowers and her mad networking skills.”

“That’s the spirit,” Aunt Desiree answered. “We’re not going to leave you out in the cold, even if you have to stay with us for a month or so while you’re getting your feet under you. You’ve got family, don’t forget."

Swatch smiled back at her. “I will never forget that.”

“And don’t forget we’re proud of you. All three of you,” Uncle Julius interjected, waving his hand to include his sons. “Not a bad apple in the bunch.”

“Thanks, Pop,” Indo replied for himself and for his brother. “Especially thanks for being such a good sport about us not working at Ambit Automation.” “Oh, you boys might still end up there if the economy tanks. Luxury disappears, but people always need manufacturing. Look at the Brooklyn Navy Yards. That’s as big a comeback as the Jazz beating the Nuggets.”

“But the boys are using their degrees,” Aunt Desiree pointed out. “Degrees that you and I both approved of, husband mine.”

“Yes, dear.”

At that moment Artist T. and Amber swooped in with platters of fried chicken, stuffed pork chops, coconut rice, spicy yams, and collard greens, enough to feed an army.

Catechu raised his glass. “To family.”

Four glasses clinked against his.

how would one of your OCs react to a HUGE burger and delicious seasoned french fries?

[neontiger]

breakfast downtown

♡ MDNI 18+

♡ Jason Todd x fem!reader

♡ Bad week at work? Don't worry, princess. You can take your frustrations out on Jay. He's a big boy, he can handle it. Maybe. Smut served with a side of angst.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A scream bubbles in your gut as glass crashes to the floor into a million pieces. Maybe the stars were out of alignment, or mercury was in retrograde, or some other bullshit – something to explain the absolute mess of a week you’d had. Maybe you’d done something wrong, pissed somebody off, and they’d put a curse on you.

That guy on Tuesday, the one in your section at table three, the one who’d flirted with you relentlessly and then called you a bitch when you turned him down. Maybe he’d fucked up your week. It certainly had thrown you off-balance enough that by Friday night you were demanding Saturday off because you couldn’t take it anymore. Thankfully you had sick days saved up.

The elevator is still out of order, and you have to make the hike up three flights of stairs. A normal week that would be fine, but tonight each step sounds like echoes of bullshit. You wonder if Jason will be waiting or if he’s already gone for the night.

That pisses you off too. He’s always running away. You’ve never spent an entire night together – no, that would be asking too much of somebody who thinks of themself as some sort of savior of a city that could not give less of a shit about him. He’s like a goddamn cat, coming and going as he pleases, with a set of morals to match. What are you to him? Is your apartment some sort of fucking safe house?

What the fuck is he planning with you? Is he even planning anything, or is he just here to get his dick sucked?

You forget to remind yourself to rein it in before you shove open the door to your apartment. The first thing you see is Jason’s mask on your kitchen counter next to a sink full of dishes. Your bag drops to the floor with a loud thud.

Jason gets up from the couch. He’s half in his uniform; the leather jacket is thrown over the back of the couch along with the multitude of holsters. He walks up like nothing in the world is wrong and leans in to kiss you.

You turn your head. His lips land on the corner of your mouth. He grips your chin in gloved hands and turns you back to him to steal the kiss you don’t want to give.

“Stop.” You shove his hand down.

“What’s wrong?” Judging blue-green eyes look you up and down underneath a furrowed brow and a curl of white. You roll your eyes and push past him, not bothering to be pleasant when your shoulder meets his arm.

He doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t reach out. Just stands there, staring at you as you head to the wardrobe by your bed and rip out clothes to wear.

He takes a few steps and stops by the kitchen counter. There’s no space to hide in the studio apartment except the bathroom, so you gather your clothes to take them in there to change. He blocks your path. “What’s wrong?” He asks, again. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened.” You could cut skin with the sharpness in your tone. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Here, I think,” he says. “If you don’t want to talk –”

“I don’t,” you snap. “I’m tired and I want to go to bed, so can you get out of the way and go do your stupid – whatever it is you fucking do, Jason!”

That’s not how you meant for it to come out, but you don’t come to that realization until too late – by then his eyes are narrowed with hurt and his fists are clenched at his sides, his mouth closed tightly, his feet taking a step back for you to move past. You don’t, not right away, frozen with the fear in your gut that you just fucked up something.

Jason lifts his hand, gestures for you to walk. It hurts your entire body to take that step.

You watch from the bathroom door as he clips on his holsters. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He nods, pulls on his jacket. “Okay.”

Okay is a brick to the head. You watch him put on the mask, and the Jason you know disappears. The Red Hood looks at you for a moment before leaving through the fire escape. You fucked up.

─── ⋆⋅❤︎⋅⋆ ───

Sleep doesn’t come until the sun does. You spent the night waiting for Jason to return, but he never does, and you fall asleep with tear-stained cheeks and tired eyes just as the morning light is peeking through your window. Hours later, after nightmares that have nothing to do with him, you wake up to the smell of coffee wafting through your apartment, and the sounds of the street below – cars honking, people talking and laughing. Music plays from somewhere and knocks on your skull, furthering the birth of a headache.

“Good morning,” Jason says dully.

You sit up halfway and frown at him in the armchair by the window. He’s out of uniform, now in a black tank top and a pair of black sweats. You want to admire his arms and chest, the muscles and the scars that mark him, tell his story…but you can’t, not now. There’s a new injury, still red and raw, on the knuckles of his right hand.

There’s also a tray of food on your nightstand, where the coffee you smelled in your sleep sits next to a plate of french toast and a bowl of berries sprinkled with sugar. You glance at it.

Jason frowns. “Or, good afternoon. Sleep bad?”

You sit up more, pulling your knees in. “Yeah. I’m sorry,” you say, voice breaking. “I’m really – I didn’t mean it, Jay. I’m really sorry.”

He nods. “I think you meant it.”

You bite your tongue, but it does nothing to stop the tears that bubble at the corners of your eyes. You shake your head, and open your mouth to say no, you didn’t, that you were just angry at everything in that moment, but he speaks first.

“It’s okay.” Jason runs a finger absentmindedly over his injured knuckles as his gaze remains on you. “I figure it’s not easy. I didn’t think we’d get this far, honestly. I thought you’d be tired of me.”

“I’m not,” you rush out with a choke.

He nods again. You’re beginning to hate that, but you say nothing, instead squeezing the fabric of your blanket to hold back your fears. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you are. We can…” His voice trails off and his gaze drops away from you to the floor. “Stop here, if you want. It might be better for you.”

“No.” You sound like a toy with a broken squeaker. You swallow, clear your throat, fight the tremble in your body to repeat the words, firmer and more sure. “No. I don’t want to stop here.”

Jason’s eyes jump back up to meet yours. “Are you sure?”

“Very. I'm sorry,” you say, more confident now as his gaze softens. “I didn't mean it, Jay, really. I've just…it's been a shitty week. I didn't mean to take it out on you.”

“Oh.” Surprise flashed over his face. “Next time just tell me. I can help you…with your frustrations.”

The breakfast he brought sits at the back of your mind. You don't think that's what he meant, not with the way his mouth curls around his final words. “Where'd you get breakfast?” You ask.

“That place downtown. Remember the one on the water we went to last month?”

“You went all the way downtown to get me breakfast?” A soft laugh escapes your lips, something you didn't think possible moments ago. Then it hits you. “Did you think I was mad at you?”

Jason stands up suddenly and stops by the bed, towering over you and blotting out the sun with his broad frame. The weight of the morning seems to lift from your shoulders at the delicious sight of him, and you can finally take him in as he deserves, dragging your eyes down from the scar on his cheek to his body, muscle rippling under tanned skin. The autopsy scar cuts across his chest and dips under the dark fabric of his fitted tank. You stop short of the waistband of his sweats and wrench your eyes back up. The ache between your thighs demands otherwise, however.

“I guess I should make it up to you. Last night.” You run your fingers lightly down his arm, tracing over a vein that runs down his forearm, until you reach his hand. You take it in yours and press your lips just above his knuckles. ‘What would you like?”

Jason smirks. “I was thinking the opposite. Gonna take care of you, get your mind off whatever's pissing you off.”

You blink up at him. “What? No. I was…I was mean. I should –”

His large hand keeps you in place as it grips your cheeks and his mouth crashes on yours, silencing any protest you might have had left. Spit connects your lips as he breaks from you. “Lay down,” he orders, breath hot on your skin.

You throw yourself back onto the pillows. Jason grins, a dark look in his eyes, one you've come to know well. You've wondered before if it's the same look he gets when he's on the streets at night, but you hope not.

“Uh-uh, princess. On your stomach.”

You roll onto your belly without second thought, sticking your ass in the air for him. Your attire is far from sexy, an oversized shirt (Jason's) and a pair of pajama bottoms that hang off your hips, but he quickly remedies that problem by tugging off your shirt before pulling down your pants, leaving you in nothing but gray cotton panties. He snaps the band once before slipping them down your ass and legs.

If he was being honest, he'd admit this was his favorite view, you ass up, face down, pussy already slick with arousal. Yeah, he likes all versions of you, but this one hits him differently, twisting his stomach into anxious knots and rushing all blood to his cock. He strains against his sweats, has to fight the urge to stuff you full of him this very second.

Jason swallows. “Keep that ass up,” he instructs, lifting off his own shirt now. You bite your bottom lip, savoring the reveal of his upper body. He places a knee on the edge of the bed and moves out of view, positioning himself behind you.

“You want to tell me…” His breath brushes over your slit, hot and cold at the same time. “What happened? Why are you so upset?” He blows gently on your clit, sending a shock through your body. You push back in an attempt to connect with his mouth but he pulls away.

“It’s stupid…it’s not – ah…” Cheek pressed into the pillow, your gasp is still audible enough to motivate his tongue, causing it to dart out from his lips to flick your clit again. His hands keep you in place with a solid grasp on the back of your thighs, preventing you from trying once more to quicken his pace.

Another lick, this one longer, slicking up through your folds. Your eyelids flutter, mouth suspended in a moan against the flower-patterned pillowcase. In an effort to keep still, you squeeze the life out of the pillow as your core burns with impatience.

This time Jason’s tongue presses inside, deep enough you feel the tip of his nose against your slit. One hand lets go of your thigh so he can press the pad of his thumb to your clit, making small, teasing circles. His tongue retreats and you nearly cry. “If it’s stupid, then why take it out on me?”

The question ruins the work he’s doing. Your cheeks flush red, guilt bubbling in your stomach. “I shouldn’t have,” you say. “The week – rough mm –”

His tongue shoves back inside your heat as he works his thumb with more sincerity, clearly seeking to see you undone. Your body trembles in his grip and the fight to keep still and not shove your whole cunt in his face starts to feel impossible. His hand brushes up your thigh to cup your ass, lifting you higher for him. “Make you feel better,” he whispers, the words vibrating against your pussy. “You want that? Kiss away your problems.”

You mumble against the pillow. “Uh-huh…I want…”

Jason runs a finger through your folds, teasing the entrance with the thick digit, and lowers his lips to capture your swollen clit in them. “Mm. What do you want, princess?”

“Jay.” At the moment you want to kick him, make him stop teasing with his fingers threatening to sink inside your heat but never making the connection, his lips brushing your clit, every word a jolt that doesn’t complete. You whine, squirming in his grip. He tightens his hold on you in response and pulls his mouth away from your cunt completely…to bite you on the fat of your ass.

You cry out, jerk your head around to glare at him. “What the fuck, Jason?”

Jason smirks, kissing the same spot. Heat emanates from the mark left behind by his teeth, a pulsating type of warmth that echoes in your core. It felt…good, maybe. But you don't want him to know.

“What do you want?” He repeats the question with his lips pressing your ass again, teeth scraping the skin like a threat.

He always does this – wants you to say it. Exposed as you are, arousal dripping down your thighs in his face, you still find it difficult to get the words out. Clothes on, maybe you've got an attitude – last night proved that completely – but like this, under him? You whine into the pillow. All that does is get him to sink his teeth into your soft flesh again, this time the back of your thigh. Your walls clench desperately around nothing.

“Want you to fuck me,” you mumble, whiny and feeling hot.

The tip of his finger presses inside your slit. You inhale, forget to exhale, as he takes his time sinking into you. “Like this?” He drags his finger almost out. You tighten around the digit instinctively, refusing to let go even though it's not exactly what you're looking for. This ache cries for something bigger, deeper.

Jason adds a second finger and scissors them in your cunt, stretching you out. His other fingers pinch your clit lightly. “So wet,” he whispers, almost too low for you to hear. “For me. All this…huh…”

You try to glance back, realizing he is talking to himself. He mumbles against your cunt words you can't make out, and fuck if it doesn't stoke the fire in your belly, the way his lips wrap your clit with intent, fingers fucking into you slowly, coiling you tight. He moans as he sucks. You watch him through clouded eyes, his free hand palming the front of his sweats, his cock in desperate need of some friction.

“Jay, please,” you whisper. Why is your voice breaking? “Fuck me now. I’m sorry.”

He pulls his fingers free, leaving you empty, and runs both hands up your thighs to your lower back as he gets up on his knees. The touch continues up your spine and guides you to flatten on the bed with your thighs pressed together, your skin soaked. He leans to whisper in your ear. “I know. It’s okay.” He sighs, and presses his lips to your neck. “You scared me. I’ve never…” He laughs softly, shifting above you as he pushes down his sweatpants. The bed shifts but he keeps you in place, sits on the back of your thighs, and kisses your cheek. “Never been scared like that.”

You twist to look up at him but can barely turn halfway with his weight holding you down. “I won’t do it again. Promise,” you say.

Jason says nothing. There’s no smile on his lips, but a tender look in his eyes remains locked on your face. He swallows. “I…” His mouth hangs open, a thought just on the tip of his tongue that doesn’t complete. Lips move, but nothing comes out.

“What?” You run your fingers up his arm, his hands on either side of you the only piece you can comfortably reach.

He exhales shakily. “I…uh, you’re beautiful.” He wets his lips before leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Gorgeous. Can’t wait to make you a fucking mess.”

You roll your eyes. Jason straightens up and places a hand on your lower back as the other grips his cock. The tip nudges your entrance, and you arch and lift as best you can to urge him on. He fills you achingly slow, spreading you open and stealing your breath until he bottoms out. His hips sit flush against your ass as he gathers your hair in one fist, tugging it gently out of the way for him to press his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck.

His teeth sink in – this time there isn’t an ounce of protest in your cry and your walls clench around him as he leaves his mark. His hips pull back and snap forward roughly, slamming the head of his cock into your cervix. You grab onto his hand where it fists the mattress for stability as he repeats the move. He flattens his hand and laces his fingers through yours.

The bed creaks underneath you, the headboard smacking the wall almost as loud as the sound of skin meeting skin and the squelch of your needy cunt. Jason fucks a quick rhythm, hardly pulling out enough and never leaving you empty, like he can't stand the feeling of being apart from you right now. Neither can you, your walls clenching around his cock every slight draw backwards, slick coating his length. You squirm, make small circles with your hips that pull groans deep from his throat.

“Fuck yes,” Jason pants, pulling on your hair and lifting your head from the pillow. He watches where his cock is sucked into your greedy hole, mesmerized with how well you take him, how you can't keep still because you need him that bad. “That's good, baby…don't stop. That's a good girl…” He leans forward for another taste, biting into your shoulder as his pace shortens, thrusts becoming animalistic and hard.

Your lungs constrict, hardly able to suck down air from his weight on you, and moving becomes impossible. He jerks on your hair to expose your neck further to him and give his teeth purchase on your throat. Your hand almost breaks from his – would have, if he doesn't tighten his hand around yours the moment he feels you try to pull away. His cock grinds against your cervix with overwhelming pressure. You squeeze your eyes shut, crying out with pleasure. Another sink of his teeth in your neck has your legs trembling as the orgasm rocks your body, release dripping from your swollen cunt to soak your thighs and the sheets.

Jason grunts close to your ear. “Close, baby – fuck.” Lips press your cheek. His breath burns your already feverish skin. His words are strained, caught between heavy breaths. “Where…do you want – ahh – want me? Tell me, baby.”

“Inside,” you choke out. The single word is a spell that undoes him. His body shudders under climax, cock desperate to press as deep inside you as possible as he comes. Inside your core it's hot, close to burning, as you clench around his twitching length. You can feel it, his release coating your walls, overflowing to drip down and mix with your fluids on the bed.

Jason rests his head on the pillow next to yours. Your hands, palms sweaty, remain tangled together, but you make no effort to pull them apart now. Instead you let your eyes close as you relish in the full feeling of him still inside you. Gradually his cock softens but stays snug, and you could almost fall asleep like this…if it wasn't for the need to breathe.

Jason, on the other hand, seems to have gotten too comfortable. He snores softly next to your ear, and you almost feel guilty jostling him awake. “Jay. Jay, can't breathe.”

He groans as he lifts himself, cock slipping free at last with a soft plop that reddens your cheeks. You startle as you feel his fingers brush your sore slit. He mumbles to himself.

“Stop,” you say, shivering. Not that you don't want it, but…you feel too exposed like this, knowing he's devouring you with his eyes, taking in the mess he's made.

Jason leans to kiss your cheek. “Sorry. Let me get you cleaned up.”

“No.” It comes out so fast, surprising both of you. You turn onto your back, self-conscious of the dripping down your ass when you do. “It's fine. I'll take a shower later. Just lay down for now.”

The bed shifts as he collapses next to you, pulling you into his arms. You nuzzle his chest and find his heart beat, still fast, not yet come down completely. His fingers make lazy circles on your arm. You want to sleep, but any thought of it seems to have faded, and all you can think about now is staying in this moment.

“Do you work tonight?” Jason asks.

“No.” You match his circles with traces of your own, going over the scars on his chest with light fingertips. “I took a sick day. Go back in Tuesday.”

He inhales deep and sighs, rolling you with the motion. “I won't go out tonight,” he says. “There's nothing…important. I'll stay here, if that's okay with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that's alright.” You prop your chin on his chest to look up at his face. His smile is soft, dreamlike. “Where do you live anyway?”

Jason shrugs a shoulder. “I've got a couple places.”

“Oh, really? Is one of them, like, an abandoned warehouse? A cardboard box under a bridge?”

He laughs. “You think I'm homeless?”

You hadn't really thought about it before, but the signs are there. “You always shower here. Your clothes are here, your toothbrush, and I've never seen your place…you just appear out of nowhere. I mean, shoe fits.”

“I like it better here,” he says.

“Then why not stay?”

He shrugs again, but this time it's almost sheepish the way he glances away, like he can't look at you. “Stay,” you say, before he can object, find some excuse. “I mean it. Move in with me. You pretty much live here anyway.”

Jason reaches to the tray on the nightstand and picks up the cup. He takes a sip and frowns before replacing it on the tray. “Coffee's cold. Let me up so I can make a new pot.” He starts to sit up, pulling his arm away and letting you fall softly to the pillow.

You stare at his scarred back as he tugs on his sweats again. “Jason, we're talking.”

He shakes his head. “Later. I have to think about it.”

Maybe an hour ago he was upset because you hadn't talked to him, hadn't told him what was wrong. He'd been scared. And now you can only stare at him in the kitchen, scooping coffee grounds into a thrift store coffee maker. You don't reach out. You don't know what you're supposed to say.

You say nothing. A scream bubbles in your gut but goes nowhere.

[ilium-ilia]

Everything You Touch

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | previously known as "soft spot" | masterlist

Chapter One: glass half shattered

tw: verbal abuse, name calling, domestic violence

It’s seven in the morning and you’re already crying. 

Dirty plates and bowls teeter upon one another in your sink, balanced so flippantly you fear your breathing might knock them down. You’re not sure how it’s filled up so quickly. Full to the brim, nearly overflowing. Dried food crusts on every prong of each fork and the rim of each glass—neglected, and not even rinsed before being placed in the sink to rot and fester. An old Halloween themed mug catches tiny drops of water that fall from the rusty faucet, and you find the sight oddly comforting. How relieving it is to know that you are not the only leaky thing within the pallid walls of this apartment. 

“Really, babe? This is fucking ridiculous.” 

Your hazy vision clears slightly when you blink, forcing more tears to roll down your cheeks in a never-ending tidal wave. Choking back a pule, you look at the man in front of you with an irritatingly quivering bottom lip. His eyes are dull—bored. There was a time when he once looked at you with adoration. Those irises used to be so vibrant when he caught sight of you, glistening like the prismatic refractions of stained glass windows. Now, heavy set brows furrow as he gestures to the sink flippantly, as if he has better things to do than be here with you. 

“You can’t be crying over dirty dishes,” Eric says, his voice far from demulcent.

“I’m not crying over dirty dishes, I’m crying because they’re not done,” you correct. 

“So then fucking clean them!” he huffs, exacerbated. He gestures at you with both hands, palms facing up and fingers curling inwards like the rotting legs of dead beetles. “I don’t understand why this is so hard for you. Jesus Christ, you’re crying like a goddamn kid over this and it’s pissing me off.” 

Closing your eyes, you force a deep breath into your lungs. You don’t feel much better when you open them again. “I’m just frustrated because I asked you to clean them last night so I’d have clean dishes for breakfast before work this morning.” 

“Okay, so I forgot! You don’t have to crucify me for it,” Eric snaps. Groaning, he runs a hand through mussed hair which only further disrupts the strands. 

“You forget every time and that’s why it hurts,” you cry, tone all but begging for him to understand. Your hand rests against the countertop as you attempt to stabilize yourself, lest you fall through the floor. “It was the same thing last week! It’s the same thing every damn time! You forget, and I have to do it. I always have to do it!” 

“God forbid you have to pull your fucking weight around here, right?” 

Your quarreling pauses for a split moment and the only sound that dares to sing is the faucet spewing its tears into the sink. Cordolium morphs into bitter shock as your lips part, your heart suddenly struck with an aching sorrow. The shock itself is almost enough to kill you, but the contempt in Eric’s eyes is the final blow. 

“You did not just say that to me,” you mumble, dumbfounded.  

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Eric challenges. “Look at you. Just woke up and you’ve already found something to bitch about. I have to do everything around here, don’t I? I work, I pay your bills. Hell, you wouldn’t be able to survive without me.”

Incisors chewing on the slick flesh inside your cheek, you tilt your head as you smear your tears off of your cheek. “Eric, you can’t even do the fucking dishes. Don’t pull that shit on me. The apartment is in my name. You moved in with me. All I’m asking for is a little fucking respect and-” 

Your monologue is interrupted by sharp nails and the edge of the counter in your low back. Eric’s face is suddenly inches away from yours and you have no choice but to look at the virulent rage in his eyes as he holds your head still, unforgiving fingers digging into your jaw and hips pinning you to the counter. He snarls like a rabid dog and you can nearly taste the stale cigarette smoke on his breath. He pulls a squeak from your vocal chords as his forehead rests against yours. It’s difficult to tell if he’s going to kiss you or rip you to shreds, but he licks his lips all the same. 

“You get respect when you give it, and all I’m hearing is an awful lot of bitching,” he seethes. “You’re really starting to piss me off, love. If you want to act like a child I’m gonna start treating you like one, you understand?” 

It’s difficult to nod when he’s gripping your face like this, but you manage the movement. Humiliation burns the back of your neck as you let out a shuddering breath. Desperate fingers slowly wrap around his wrist, and you find your thumb rubbing over his wrist as if to soothe him. 

“Let go of me,” you say, words balancing on the edge of an order and a plea. 

Eric contemplates your words as if he doesn’t want to listen. There is an insurmountable amount of power that he holds in the palm of his hand—the soft flesh of your cheek and the brittle bone of your jaw. He could move his hand down to the soft flesh of your throat. All it would take is a little squeeze. Instead, he relents. Bony fingers slip away from your face as he steps back. He stares at you for so long you think he might change his mind; eventually he turns away and scoffs. 

“You think you’re so fucking tough,” he grumbles before leaving you alone in the kitchen. “Can’t even do the fucking dishes.” 

Eric rages through the house, heavy feet stomping on the floor until he reaches the bedroom where he slams the door shut. Trembling fingers rub at your face in an attempt to quell the ache but you can feel the blood begin to pool in your cheeks already. Your downstairs neighbors have turned the TV on again. It’s loud enough to drown out the sound of the argument you were forced into, but the damage is already done. 

You don’t eat breakfast. 

It’s difficult not to lament your lost meal, but as you trudge into work with a forced smile on your face, you remind yourself that it’s for the best. After all, Eric’s right; you really do need him. He might not help around with cleaning as much as you’d like him to, and he spends his weekends god knows where doing who knows what, but he shares the bills. Nothing more than a glorified roommate, he’s always petulant these days—snapping at you for any mere sight of conceived retraction from you. 

A growl gnaws at your stomach, but the pain doesn’t hit. You lost your appetite the moment your boyfriend laid hands on you. 

Computers and cash machines whirl to life as you ready your teller’s station for the morning rush. Within no time everything begins to hum with electricity. You turn on the large television screen on your right where it displays exchange rates and helpful information, and before you settle behind your desk you ensure to straighten out the sign informing patrons of common financial scams and how to avoid them. Everything is up and running. As you log in, you remind yourself to be the blithe, helpful bank teller you always are. 

“Rough morning?” 

The quiet voice of your coworker—Cheryl—scares you out of your skin. Lips parted and heart thumping, you jump and look on your left to find her polite smile and neatly pressed blazer. Cheryl tosses her faux leather purse on the back counter before looking at you expectantly with a raised brow. In the worst of ways, she reminds you of your mother. 

“I’m sorry?” you reply. 

“You’re here extra early. Earlier than I am,” she explains with flapping hands before walking to her desk. “Usually you’re having a bad morning when you’re here before me. Eric isn’t giving you trouble again, is he?” 

Sighing, you give her a gauche chuckle before turning your eyes back to your monitor. Clicking on your mouse, you pretend to do work while the cogs in your mind begin to turn. Your jaw still aches, but you don’t feel like spilling your guts on the floor before work begins. “Oh, not really. Just… had issues with the dishes this morning.” 

Work drones on the way it always does—with a push and pull. It’s a dance that you know well. One that you could do with your eyes closed. A gentle trickle of customers waxes and wanes like the waves of the ocean as your queue begins to fill. It starts out soft before it becomes a flood that forces you to wade through waist-high water. Still, you are amicable. You show an equanimity that most people only dream of achieving as you handle deposits, withdrawals, and everything in between. 

It’s an easy job. Mindless—for you, anyway. Each word you speak flows off your tongue like thick honey as you politely smile at grumbling customers and send them on their way. You’re treated like a brick wall. Nothing more than an object to be barked at until you magically dispense the service they desire. You don’t mind. It’s easier to act this way—like a performer. Completing tasks like a metallic android until—

—until he arrives. 

His name is Simon Riley, and he stands in front of you like a cyclopean statue—unmoving and unbreakable. Surrounding customers eye him with wariness as they soak up his masked face and the drawn hood of his jumper. His bulk is so wide that he blocks out the line behind him like the moon eclipses the sun. It’s fitting, you realize. He is mysterious like the moon; dressed in black with eyes as stygian as the streets at night. A medical style fabric mask obscures his face, but you can still see the way his jaw dances beneath it as he slides his ID face down across the counter. 

“Hey there,” you greet him with a smile. It feels like the first authentic simper you’ve given anyone all day today. 

“Morning,” he hums. 

“The usual?” 

“Yeah.” 

Simon is your inconsistent consistency. At least, you like to think of him as much. He arrives every Thursday around mid-morning to withdraw the same amount of cash—enough for what you assume he uses in the week. He refuses to use any sort of ATM, and he always chooses your lane. At least, he does while he’s here. Internal records logged on his account show he’s a military man; a soldier. He is volatile in where he is in the world, but so long as he’s in London, you can always count on him to end up in front of your desk somehow. 

He watches you with quiet eyes as you ignore his ID and go straight to retrieving his cash. You’ve only seen that picture of him once when he first started banking, and ever since then you’ve refused to look at it again—as if you’re doing him a favor for not witnessing what he tries so hard to obscure. Each movement of your fingers is scrutinized as he slips a thumb into the pocket of his jeans. Simon always feels like such a stain in places like this—around people like you. The people with bright smiles; who wear clean clothes and attend the perfect nine to five. Each wall in the room glistens with power and wealth, something that he’s never really felt like he can come close to without it tarnishing. 

If it wasn’t for you, he would have switched banks a long time ago. 

“Here you go!” you say, your voice chipper as you hold out the envelope for him. 

Large hands threaten to engulf yours as he reaches for the money, but his fingers never do so much as graze your skin. Simon doesn’t bother counting the cash before folding the envelope and shoving it into the pocket of his jumper. He’s been banking with you for quite some time, and you’ve never miscounted before; he trusts you with that much, at least. 

“Thanks.” It’s short, gruff—to the point. He gathers his ID off of the counter and stows that away next to his envelope before turning to leave. Several wary looks burn into the back of his skull, but he ignores them. 

“Have a good one!” you call after him. 

Have a good one. It’s the same farewell you always give him. Of course, there’s a factitious answer that burns the tip of his tongue every time you say it. Have a good what? But he knows better than to be a smart ass. Though really, the question is a valid one in his mind. Have a good what? Day? Afternoon? Life? 

Would you still say that to him if you knew how far gone he is? 

After that short interaction, Simon doesn’t see you again for a few weeks. He’s off doing what he does best—being a soldier. At times, it feels like it’s all he knows how to do. Run. Shoot. Kill. Stab. He’s long since made peace with his contriteness. The bodies stack up behind him like a pyre waiting to be lit and the stench of it doesn’t even bother him anymore. All he does is wash the blood from his uniform and repeat it all the next day if he even lives long enough to see it. 

But he always does, even when he knows he shouldn’t. Which means he always returns back home to his small studio apartment. It’s not much, but it’s not on the ground floor, and it’s quaint enough for a man who’s never home to enjoy it anyway. The walls are tawny and forever ooze stale nicotine from every pore due to some asshole who couldn’t be arsed to open a window when they smoked. The wood floor is scratched to the point Simon’s certain someone was murdered here, which would explain the odd stain outside of the bathroom door. The only item worse for wear than he is, is the ugly nightstand sitting next to his bed that he bought off of some old man at a car boot sale for a fiver. 

Some nights it feels too cramped. Like there’s not enough elbow room and the ceiling scrapes too close to his head for comfort. Sometimes it’s as if the walls are closing in around him like the tight confines of a coffin, and his mouth goes dry as if he’s choking on dirt. Everything—every detail, every crack in that damn apartment suffocates him as he lays in bed and stares at the water damaged ceiling above him. 

His only solace is his training. Countless years spent wading through gore and limbless bodies has chipped at him just as much as it’s built him back up. Thick fingers curl into the sheets as he grounds himself—he tells himself he’s far away from his grave; far away from Mexico and those reprobates. By the time his heart stills, the alarm clock on his nightstand glares at him in unforgiving crimson light. 

05:23

He has to go to the bank soon. 

Simon manages to get two hours of sleep before the morning sun peeks through his window and rouses him. He wakes himself up with a frigid shower before washing the dishes and making breakfast for himself as he watches the morning news with dull eyes. There’s a segment on rising tensions between Russia and Urzikstan that makes him chuckle, and he finds himself savoring his tea, glad to not be in the field fighting off terrorists. 

After breakfast, he sets off across London for a walk to the bank. He splits crowds like a razor before he broods for a bit on public transport. He sits at the back of his bus with his eyes scanning every person trudging their way to work. There’s not a single face on that vehicle that he has not committed to his temporary memory, or an exit that’s out of view. He likes it this way—being able to watch. Never leaving his back exposed. 

He breathes easier when he gets off at his stop and his bank is within view. The structure glistens with freshly washed windows, and customers keep the doors swinging as they come and go like schools of fish.

When Simon enters the building, he’s able to immediately sense that something is off. 

Shaking off his discomfort, he stands in line with his ID ready for viewing, but as he waits with his head tilted down he realizes what’s missing. There’s no sign of your usual winsome voice—the same one that’s so saccharine that it makes him feel queasy at the mere sound. Your voice is hoarse; raw and dry as if you’re spewing sand from your mouth with each word you speak. 

Keeping his eyes trained at the exits, Simon passes it off as you having a cold until he’s the next person in line. Standing before you, he’s able to witness your appearance and he feels apoplectic bile begin to rise in his throat. It sears his tongue into submission, forcing him to keep quiet as he looks at your face. 

Bright as always, you greet him with your standard the usual? but your words sound clogged in his ears. He doesn’t answer you. All Simon can look at is your smile, and how lopsided it is because of the deep cut that slices the corner of your mouth and the swelling that consumes your left cheek.

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[urmum-lovesme]

The way you write toxic rafe is👨🏻‍🍳💋!!!!!!im obsessed need moreee🫶🏼

He's actually psychotic. (I'm in love...)

The kitchen lights shone above them, casting shadows that seemed to mirror the growing tension between the two. The house was eerily quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator, the air thick with unspoken words. Rafe had been on edge ever since the phone call with Ward- he had tried to brush it off, but his anger was festering like a wound that wouldn't heal. And Y/N had been the one closest to him, trying to ease his mind. But tonight, her efforts had only seemed to make him angrier.

“Can you stop fucking bitching in my ear?”

Rafe spat, his voice sharp, laced with annoyance. Y/N stepped forward, her face flushed, her arm folded trying to remain calm. She spoke back, her voice steady, though she could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

“I’m not bitching in your ear, Rafe.”

Rafe shot her a look, eyes narrowing, and he took a step toward her. “You don’t get it, Y/N. You think you can just fix everything with a few fucking words? It doesn’t work like that!”

Rafe’s jaw was clenched tight as he stood by the kitchen island, pulling a small baggie from his pocket. With practiced ease, he tapped a line of white powder onto the cool marble countertop, his movements sharp and unbothered. He sniffed once, wiping his nose with the back of his hand before leaning down, inhaling a sharp drag of the powder, his shoulders tensing as the rush hit him.

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the sight. She hated this- hated watching him do this to himself. Without thinking, she stepped closer, reaching for his arm. “Rafe, stop,” she pleaded, trying to pull him away from the counter.

“You don’t need this.”

“-don’t start Y/N,”

He muttered, sniffling as he rubbed at his nose, his fingers gripping the counter like it was the only thing holding him up. He barely acknowledged her, shrugging her off with a roll of his shoulder.

“Rafe, I mean it,” she pressed, her voice firmer now. She grabbed at his wrist again, trying to pull him back.

“This shit isn’t helping you—it’s making everything worse.”

“You think you know what I need HUH!?”

His voice was cold, sharp like a knife as he slammed his hand down onto the counter with a loud BANG, the sound reverberating in the silent kitchen. He let out a harsh laugh, finally turning his head to glance at her, his pupils already blown wide.

“You think you have any fucking clue what it’s like?”

Her breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes- wild, unpredictable. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled away from his skin cautiously. She said softly.

“Please- let's just talk about it . . .”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Because in the next second, his face twisted, his expression darkening as his body tensed even more. He took a step toward her and his hands curled into fists at his sides, for a moment, she thought he might punch straight through the marble of the counter.

“Talk to you?” he scoffed. “What the fuck do you think you can do for me, huh?”

“Rafe—”

“What?”

“You need to stop caring about what your dad thinks,” she said, her voice cautious but firm.

“It’s eating you up, Rafe. He treats you like shit... he’s an asshole.”

Rafe’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing with anger. His expression shifted completely as he turned to face her, his muscles tensing. He bit out, his voice low but filled with malice,

“Don’t fucking talk about my dad like that,”

Y/N stood still, folding her arms, her eyes never leaving his. Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard she thought it might break. “You think you know everything-” he snarled, taking a step toward her. His anger was palpable, almost suffocating.

“You think you can just tell me how to deal with my family?”

She flinched slightly at the tone of his voice. Rafe’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his body moving towards her, now merely a few feet away. He growled, his breath coming heavier now.

“Don’t you dare tell me how to handle my shit.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened as she urged, her voice shaking with a mix of frustration and concern, "I just think that-"

“Don’t fucking lecture me, Y/N,”

Rafe spat, his voice rising as he took another step forward. His body was radiating heat, fury in his eyes. Y/N’s chest tightened, her words slipping from her mouth before she could stop them.

“I’m not trying to lecture you, I just—”

Before she could finish, Rafe’s hand shot out, grabbing her by the wrist with a force that made her gasp. Without another word, he shoved her harshly against the counter, her lower back hitting the counter hard enough to make her gasp. The impact sent a jolt of pain up her spine, but the look in his eyes scared her more than anything. She stumbled back slightly, eyes wide in shock as he hissed out.

“You think I need you to save me from my own fucking life?”

Y/N’s heart pounded, her breath quickening as she stared at him, realising just how far his rage mixed with the addicting substance now sprinkled over the counter had taken him.

“No… I just want to be here for you—please listen to me-”

Rafe didn’t move at first. He just stared at her, his chest rising and falling with sharp, ragged breaths. Then, his eyes flickered to the counter beside him. The sound of metal scraping against the marble sent a chill down her spine. Her stomach twisted as she glanced down, her blood running cold when she saw what he had in his hand.

A knife.

Her breath hitched. The blade caught the dim light as he lifted it slightly, his grip tight around the handle. He took a slow step forward, angling the knife slightly, not lunging, not threatening outright—but letting her see it. Letting her understand.

“You think you know how to fix my family, hmm?”

He murmured, his voice eerily calm now. Her feet stayed rooted to the ground, every muscle locked in place as he took another step closer. He tilted his head as he ran his thumb absently along the handle. Her throat was dry, words failing her as she forced herself to meet his gaze. He wasn’t looking at her like he wanted to hurt her. No, it was worse than that. He was looking at her like he wanted to prove something. Like he needed to see the fear in her eyes to remind himself of something. She whispered, trying to keep her voice steady,

“I never said that. . .”

“But you fucking think it.” His grip on the knife tightened, his knuckles going white.

“You think I’m weak?”

She shook her head frantically, her hands trembling at her sides as she spoke out desperately,

"No, Rafe. I don’t— I swear—”

“Don’t lie to me”

He cut her off sharply, his voice dark and unforgiving. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body tense, watching his every move. He tilted the knife slightly, just enough to catch her attention again.

"You know what’s funny, Y/N?"

He let out a breath of amusement, though there was no humour in his voice. He took a slow step forward, the weight of his presence suffocating. Y/N barely dared to breathe as the tip of the knife grazed her bare arm, trailing lightly over her skin. A shiver ran through her, her pulse hammering beneath the delicate scrape of cold metal traveling up her arm slow and deliberate. He paused before the blade traced the curve of her jaw, featherlight yet impossible to ignore. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, her body frozen, trapped in place by his touch.

The tip pressed against the centre of her neck.

A single, calculated tap.

Her breath hitched. She didn’t move, didn’t dare flinch, she couldn't as she was routed to the spot in pure terror. Rafe’s lips curled into something almost resembling amusement, though his eyes were anything but playful.

“I could do anything right now. I could do anything I fucking wanted, and no one would stop me.”

She couldn't breathe.

Because he was right, no one would stop him. No one would hear her scream. No one would come running, no one would burst through the doors to pull her away. If he wanted to, he could. The terrifying truth was she wasn’t scared because she thought he would do it, she was scared because she knew that if he did… there would be no one to stop him. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly blinked it away, trying to steady her voice.

"Rafe… please, just put it down.”

His lips twitched, like the very idea of listening to her pleas was laughable.

Then, without warning, he let out a sharp exhale and dropped the knife onto the counter with a loud clank. He muttered out, his voice quieter now, a calm settling in as he wiped his hand across his face.

“Don’t ever talk about my fucking family again”

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Sorry - Chapter 9

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

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Series Masterlist

“So, you’re just gonna sit in this room all day and wallow?” Dominique let out a groan and threw the covers over her head. “Sis, come on. You know I love you and  J.R and Tayvon love having you here but I think you should call Jon back” Desiree trailed off and Dominique pulled the covers off her head and glared at her older sister. 

“I’m not calling him,” Dominique said in a tone that she hoped came off as final. Why would she call Jon? He had betrayed her in the worst way possible. She was already feeling a type of way about the bitch at the club but she was willing to let that go and be with him. Then she found out he was with Trinity and if she was being completely honest, that stung a whole lot. THEN to find him at Trinity’s house and to learn that they kissed was the final nail in the coffin. Jon had hurt her beyond repair. 

“Dom, he’s been calling me for hours, He just wants to talk to you.” 

“I don’t wanna talk to him!” Dominique snapped. Tears of frustration and pain now falling down her face, she angrily wiped at them as she sat up in the bed and looked at her sister. “He made me look so fucking stupid Muffin. He deadass left our home to go be with her.., He never wanted me he’s always wanted her and now I’m not in the way anymore he’s free to go do what he wants.” Dominique cried, pulled her knees to her chest, and crying into them Desiree felt her heart break as she looked at her younger sister, She pushed herself off the wall and walked over to her, she climbed into bed with Dominique and pulled her into a hug, letting her cry into her shoulder. 

Talisua Fatu stared at her eldest son with disappointment etched on her face. “You kissed Trinity?” 

“She kissed me.” 

Talisua sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Why did you go over there in the first place? You and Dom argued and you just what?  Happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to go visit Trinity?” 

Jon stayed silent and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t know why he went to Trinity’s house… he just, wanted to vent, he didn’t expect Trinity to kiss him, he thought they had moved on from each other. 

“Ma’ I messed up. Bad. I know this, I just… I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“You probably can’t,” Talisua said as bluntly as possible. Jon lifted his gaze from the table to glare at her and she shrugged. “I’m sorry son, but you broke that woman’s heart. From what she told me, you made her feel unwanted and made her feel like Trinity would always be your top choice and I agree with her. You didn’t just kiss Trinity, you chose her.” 

“Ma..” Jon trailed off with a deep sigh. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt Dom” 

“Maybe you did.” Jon opened his mouth to argue but his mother's glare stopped him. “She hurt you by basically rejecting the idea of marriage and you hurt her by showing her she’s not the only option for you.” 

“But she is!” Jon snapped standing up from his chair, not caring about how it fell over. “What I feel for Dominique is way stronger than what I felt for Trinity. 

“Then you show her that! You drive your ass down to Ensley and go show her how much she means to you!” 

Before Jon took the twelve-minute drive to Ensley he decided to visit Trinity. He needed her to know and understand that it was over between the two of them. He only wanted Dominique. 

Trinity opened her front door, looking surprised. “Jon? What—” she started, but he cut her off. 

“Coming here the other day was a mistake. And to be completely honest me being here now is probably gonna come back and bite me in the ass but, I need you to understand that there will never be anything between us... ever.” 

Trinity narrowed her eyes at him before scoffing and shutting the door in his face. Jon sighed then shrugged before turning on his heels was jogging back to his car. 

Jon pulled up in front of Dominique's sister’s house. His heart was beating profusely in his chest as he walked up to the front door and knocked. He was just about to walk away when the front door opened and Desiree stood there with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“I just wanna see her,”  Jon said before Desiree could say anything. “I know I fucked up. I know I did. But I need to apologize. I need her to know I want to be with her.” 

Desiree stood there for a long moment, staring at Jon, her arms still crossed. “Jon, she’s hurt. You made her look stupid, feel stupid. She’s humiliated, Jonathan. She had people in her comments all week calling her Trinity’s replacement, people in her DMs telling her they knew you were going to go back to Trinity. She’s humiliated.” 

Jon felt like shit. Absolute garbage. “Please,” Jon said, his voice now steady with quiet desperation, “I need to see her. I need to talk to her. I know it might not make a difference, but I need her to know how much I care. How much I love her. That I want only her. I can’t lose her, Desiree.”

Desiree’s eyes softened, She had watched Jon and Dom’s whole relationship and he had never shown that he wasn’t fully invested in Dominique. She knew how much Dominique meant to him, but she also knew how deeply her sister had been hurt. She sighed, glancing over her shoulder as if trying to gauge how her sister might react.

“Fine, but if she tells you to leave, you leave.”  Jon nodded understandably and followed Desiree into the house, shutting the door behind him. Jon was a bundle of nerves as he followed Desiree up the stairs. He didn’t even know what else he was going to say to Dominique besides sorry. 

Dominique looked up when the bedroom door opened. When Jon stepped inside, she immediately started to shake her head.

“Dom please -” 

“No. leave.” 

“No.” Jon stood his ground, staring at her. He wasn’t about to let her walk out of his life without fighting for her. “I fucked up.” He said, moving closer to her when she turned her back to him. “I love you Dominique, not the chick from the club and not Trinity.” 

Dominique scoffed and kept her back to him, looking out into her sister’s backyard. “I know I hurt you.” He continued. “You helped me turn my life around after WWE threatened to fire me after my DUI’s. You helped me build a better relationship with my kids.” 

“Yeah, I helped you,” she muttered, her voice quiet but laced with bitterness. “But I did that because I believed in you. I trusted you.”Jon took another step forward, his heart breaking at the distant coldness in her tone.

"I know, baby. I know you trusted me. And I destroyed that trust." His voice was thick with regret. “But I need you to know that when I say I love you… I’m not just saying it to make things right. I do love you. I always have.”

“Then why did you go to her, Jon?” Dominque asked, turning to face him. Jon’s heart broke at the tears he caused streaming down her face. “Why did you have to kiss her?” Her sentence broke off with a choked sob and all Jon wanted to do was rush over to her and pull her into his arms. 

“Because I’m stupid.” 

Dominique’s body trembled as she tried to hold back more tears, her heart feeling like it was being shredded with each word Jon spoke. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, but the hurt was still too raw, too fresh for her to just let go of it.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly. “You’re not stupid, Jon. You’re selfish. I understand that I could have been truthful about my stance on marriage but never have I once thought about running back to Dave or evening going to see him. But you - you chose her.” 

“I didn’t choose her Dominique. I just- I don’t know what I thought was going to happen but I would never choose her over you. I would never choose anybody over you.” 

”I loved you. And you threw that away without even thinking about what it would do to me.”

“Don’t say that.” Jonathan shook his head walking into Dominique’s personal space and grabbing her hands. She tried to fight him off but he wasn’t about to let her go. “You love me and I love you, and we’re going to get through this. I can’t change what I did,” Jon said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “But I can tell you how much I regret it. I can tell you that I’ll spend every single day trying to make this right. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Dominique. And if you let me, I’ll show you that you’re the one I choose. Not her. Not anyone else. Just you.”

And now what? You expect me to just forgive you because you’re sorry? Because you say you love me?” she asked bitterly. “You left me for her. You kissed her. You chose her, Jon. Not once, but twice.”

“I didn’t choose her, Dom,” Jon said, his voice desperate. “I messed up, but it was never about choosing her. I was stupid, confused—selfish, but I never wanted to lose you. I just wanted to fix things, and I thought I could go back to her and get some clarity, but I was wrong. You’re the one I love. You’re the one I want. It’s always been you. Just let me make it up to you. Let me prove it to you.” 

“Let go of me.” She said and Jon immediately let go of her hands. Dominique took a deep breath and took a step back from Jon, creating space between him. “Get out.” 

“Wha- Baby. Please.” 

“Clarity? You went to her for clarity? The same women who drove you to drink in the first place? The same women who didn’t care if you had a good relationship with your kids or your family?” 

“I’m sorry.” Jon’s own tears were now flowing down his face. “I wish I could take it back.” 

“The fucked up thing is, all this started over me being apprehensive about getting married.”  Dominique scoffed and shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t know if I can trust you anymore, Jon. 

Gutted Jon nodded. He tucked his bottom lip into his teeth and started to back away from Dominique. He needed to get out of there fast, the walls felt like they were closing in on him. “Okay,” He whispered.  He didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing he could say to undo this. Nothing he could do to take back the damage. His mistake had been too big, and Dominique’s trust in him had been shattered beyond repair.

Authors Note: Oh Damn... How do y'all think Jon is going to make it up to her??

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[addictao3]

SHORT THING!!

(Cause I love yall. I’m still super busy but I’m slowly writing muhahahah)

“Fuck- ple’se baby.” The man moaned out. Who would’ve thought the tallest of your soldiers would whine like a bitch in heat. You sit on Konigs large pierced cock, moving your hips in slow circles. “Uh uh uh.” He whimpers. His hands clenching the sheets, wanting to grab you and fuck you roughly.

But you told him to stay still. And he wants to cum tonight.

You kiss him softly. “Baby? Be a good boy and you’ll get a good treat~.” You tease, slowly rising off of his body. You drop down and he moans loudly. You roll your eyes and sigh.

“I’m tired.” You say amused. Konig nods and whimpers when you use that phrase. ‘I’m tired’ usually means I don’t want to do any work. Fuck me’.

Konigs pushes his hips up. Fucking into you roughly. His eyes attached to your neck until you tilt your head. His teeth quickly find their home in his neck, biting enough to make it hurt. Make an indent.

(This comes to yall from my horny brain. Sigh I miss my man. Ik he’ll see this. Come home I wanna kiss and cuddle you. Clothes ON!!)

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Barnes Bakes Chapter 2

A request that turned into a short story. *mudak: moron or blowhard in Russian

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From then on, every Sunday night Bucky could expect a knock on his door at about 7:00 p.m.  It was always Y/N, bringing him a new plate of treats to try.  Her bubbly vivaciousness was palpable as she would talk to him and explain what it was she made, then wouldn’t leave until he took a bite in front of her.  First it was classic chocolate chip cookies, then sugar cookies, oatmeal raisin, white chocolate and macadamia nut, and almost every type of cookie imaginable until she moved on to brownies, cake, and now ice cream.

Bucky at first tried to turn it down, but she was persistent, and he would eventually cave and just take the damn treat to make her leave him alone.  He wouldn’t let her see how much he liked her coming by, but would indulge showing her his one bite of trying it in front of her before she left.  After she had come by with mint chocolate chip ice cream, which he really wasn’t that fond of but knew Sam would love so he took it, he closed the door and turned around to find his girlfriend glaring at him.

“Who the fuck was that?” Mandy asked, her arms crossed on her chest.

“My neighbor,” Bucky said, bringing the ice cream into the kitchen and placing it in the freezer.

“No shit, Sherlock.  What’s her name?” she asked.

“Y/N,” Bucky said simply before facing her and crossing his arms.  He hadn’t really told Mandy about Y/N.  It didn’t seem like he needed to.  “She’s a baker and likes to bring treats by.”

“So you know her name and that she’s a baker,” Mandy said, her eye twitching in annoyance.  “What else do you know?  Huh?  Has she been here before?  Are you flirting with her?”

“What?  No, Mandy, god,” Bucky groaned, rubbing his eyes with his flesh hand.  “I helped her move some boxes when she moved in and she insisted on paying me with treats, because that’s what she does.  Nothing inappropriate has happened.  Why can’t you trust me to just, I don’t know, know people outside of you?”

“How well do you know her?” Mandy asked, her voice raising.

“Not well,” he shrugged.

“Where does she work?” she asked, her teeth nearly grinding.

“I think she said that bakery on 5th, but I could be wrong,” he said simply, shrugging again.  “I don’t know her.  She’s just a neighbor who likes to bring me treats.”

“Then why did she call you sweet pea?” Mandy growled.

“She just does, that’s her thing,” Bucky sighed.  “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Are you really that stupid, Bucky?  Some bitch is bringing you food and calling you nicknames and you’re just ‘neighbors’ and nothing more?” Mandy yelled.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Bucky yelled back.  “I told you this jealousy thing has to stop.  Not every woman I walk by or associate with in my life is trying to steal me away from you.  And you calling her names just because she’s being nice isn’t going to make me feel any better about this,” he gestured between them.  “I’m telling you, Mandy, I’ve had it.  I’m done doing this with you–”

“I’m sorry!” Mandy said, suddenly looking sad and pouty.  “I’m sorry.  I was just insecure, alright?  She’s…nice,” she said it like it hurt her to admit.  “Please don’t break up with me over something like this.”

Bucky sighed heavily.  “Okay, okay.  Just please, no more of this weird jealousy thing.”  He walked over and hugged her.  “She’s just a nice person who lives across the hall from me.  That’s all.”

“Okay,” Mandy said, still not sounding sure but accepting it.

***

The little bell rang over the door and Y/N came out from the back to greet the new customer.  “Hello!” she said cheerfully, watching the woman scowl at the bakery.  “What can I help you with today?” she continued, trying not to let the woman’s dislike dampen her mood.

“What the hell kind of name is ‘She’s Tasty’?” the woman asked, giving Y/N a dirty glance.

Y/N’s eyebrows raised.  “It’s based on the fact that all my bakes are named after a typically female name,” she explained, pointing at the menu above her head that had lists of names, categories and what the dessert was made of under each one.  “It’s just a play on words.  Like, ‘Ooh she’s tasty!’  You know?”

The woman grimaced.  “Right.  Well, I’m not here for a dessert.  I’m just here to talk to you.”

“Uh, okay,” Y/N said, leaning against the counter and frowning.

“Stay away from my boyfriend,” she snarled.

Y/N smirked.  “Okay.  Who’s your boyfriend?”

She looked even angrier.  “Bucky!” she cried indignantly.

“Bucky?  My neighbor Bucky?” Y/N asked incredulously.  “I didn’t know he was even social enough to have a girlfriend.”

“Well, he is, and I’m the girlfriend telling you to back off,” she spat.

“Back off from what, exactly?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head in question.  “I haven’t flirted with him.”

“Yes you are!  You keep bringing him treats!” she said, slapping the counter.

“Okay, hun, just chill out,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes.  “I won’t bring treats anymore, k?  I’m sure I’ve paid him back for helping me move in plenty at this point.”  The girlfriend kept glaring at her.  “I was just being friendly and neighborly,” Y/N continued.  “No need to be jealous of some little treats.”

“Just stay away from him,” the girlfriend snapped, then turned on her heel and stomped out of the bakery.

Y/N rolled her eyes again and walked back to the kitchen.  She hadn’t said or done anything to warrant this type of response, but whatever.  She wouldn’t make Bucky’s treats anymore.  The less drama she had to deal with the better.

[heylittleriotact]

𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐔

Emmrich works, Rook shops, dinner is imminent

Link to ao3 or read below the cut.

“Three times?”

“Yup.”

“And then this morning too?”

“Mhmm.”

“Damn. He must have been thirsting after you for ages.”

Rook tried not to look too pleased with herself as she regarded the shelf of dried pastas in front of her, purportedly deciding what shape she wanted, but in reality her mind was wandering down the enthralling path of recently forged memories from the night before.

The feeling of his lips on hers.

His scent.

The way he moaned while he was fucking her: not forced or put on. Instead, it was like he had never enjoyed anything in life quite so much as being entangled with her…

I’m in the grocery store with my best friend, picking up supplies for dinner - now is not the time.

Too late though: thoughts of Emmrich had already taken root, and sinful need slithered through her organs, twining around her guts and settling deep in her belly, impossible to ignore.

Later. Soon…

“Does he have Instagram? Facebook? I wanna see this silver-fox-fuck-machine for myself.”

“He doesn’t,” Rook said quietly, her lips curling at the absurdity of Emmrich having any kind of social media accounts. Most funeral professionals had nearly invisible online footprints - in an age where everyone you ever met was likely to look you up online, remaining largely unsearchable was the only sure way to guarantee your privacy.

“LinkedIn?”

Rook wrinkled her nose and pulled a box of linguine off the shelf, tossing it in the basket Leon held. “What? Cuz he’s old?”

“I mean… yeah?” Leon shrugged, his soft, dark brown eyes widening innocently.

“Shut up, Leon,” Rook squeezed past him, bumping her shoulder against his pointedly despite the abundance of space in the empty aisle.

“What?” He giggled, falling into step behind her, shaking his luxurious mane of thick black hair. “Nothing to be ashamed of - you were the one that couldn’t shut up about him at the Mussels Absinthe show a few weeks ago. You bagged yourself a sugar daddy - good for you! Wish I had that pull.”

Her cheeks heated as they wandered towards the produce section, “Can you maybe try not using your fucking radio voice while we’re discussing my sex life in the grocery store on a Thursday afternoon?”

“Just sex then?” Leon forged on, not bothering to lower his warm, booming voice at all. “Or have the seeds of romance been planted and fertilized?”

“Leon.” Rook ground out, looking around to make sure no one else was being subjected to this.

“Oh yeah,” he remarked observantly, “You fucking like him, don’t you?”

“What’s not to like?” Rook retorted, manhandling a practical, sound-minded bit of dignity into the conversation as she selected a basket of mushrooms. “He’s stable, supports himself, has a functioning vehicle that’s not filled to the windows with garbage, doesn’t bitch when I tell him to wear a condom, and knows how to get a girl off.” She dropped a mesh bag of garlic bulbs into the basket with unwarranted spite. “Bet he won’t ask me to buy weed for him and his band buddies, or go running to Mummy for rent money each month either.”

“I love it.” Leon said, rubber voice adopting a whimsical tone, as he switched the basket to his other hand and squeezed a grapefruit because Rook knew he’d eyed it and felt like he needed to. “The complete about-face rebound from pie-in-the-sky wannabe rockstar burnout to sophisticated man-about-town is truly inspiring. Tommy is gonna shit himself.”

“It’s not a rebound, and Tommy’s not gonna know a damn thing about it,” Rook snapped, sounding just as harsh as she intended to. “That fucking dickhead doesn’t deserve a window into whatever happens to be going on in my life. He lost that privilege when he fucked that stupid waitress at The Hanged Man… and that was after the shithead already fucked around once and got caught.” She shoved a few shallots into a bag, pretending she was shoving them down Tommy’s throat. “I know he asks around about me - I’m not stupid - and you’d better not be fucking telling him anything about me: I don’t want him knowing where I work, what I’m up to, who I’m fucking, or even what I’m doing with my fucking hair these days. He’s a piece of shit and I hope he chokes on his fucking tongue.”

“Point taken,” Leon raised his eyebrows. “And just so you know: I haven’t said a word to him - and I never would. I haven’t even seen him around at shows or anything for the past month at least.”

“Good,” Rook quipped, calm entering her voice. “Maybe he’s finally made himself useful and gotten a fucking job. Or better yet: done us all a favour and dropped dead.”

It was always one thing to make arrangements with a family that clearly didn’t know much about their loved one in life, but it was quite another thing altogether to sit in an arrangement office with the overwhelmed family trying to guide them towards decisions while simultaneously steering them away from ones that their loved one was blatantly disagreeing with in real time.

“Next! I really don’t care for gerber daisies and I haven’t a clue as to why they think I have some sort of attachment to them.”

Emmrich subtly glanced up from the pages of the binder of floral arrangements into the ghostly visage of the recently deceased octogenarian hovering around it with the rest of her family.

Over the years he had mastered the art of subtly urging the living towards the decisions of the dead, but it wasn’t always easy: it was a balancing act on both fronts that to his knowledge, no other funeral professionals but himself had to manage: the rest only had to worry about satisfying the living. Emmrich had to make sure everyone was pleased.

Try explaining that to the dead, though: the average person rarely considered it in life, but the reality was that funerals were - and always had been - just as much for the living as they were for the dead. Of course celebrating the life and legacy of the departed was of utmost importance, but the communal event itself: the ritual of a funeral, be it Andrastian, Qunari, non denominational, or anything in between was arguably more for the people left behind than the ones who did the leaving: an opportunity for the bereaved to come together and support each other through the heaviest days of their grief. To weep, and laugh, and share stories and regrets. But the world was changing, and fewer and fewer people saw the value in said rituals. Thought them trite and old-fashioned and impractical.

It was a shame, really. But as it stood, society seemed to prefer to grieve privately… or not at all, preferring to bury their sorrows in busy things like work, and commitments; happy to deny that they felt anything at all in favour of letting that vacuous wound inside of them fester and scar rather than accepting the laborious journey of grief and the healing that came with it. No one liked saying goodbye. No one enjoyed losing a loved one. But… that was life, wasn’t it?

And of course, what came after death was a mystery to everyone. Even Emmrich, who had been able to commune with the metaphysical imprints of the recently deceased since childhood was unable to say for certain what followed that final breath: not everyone became a ghost, it seemed, and those that did tended not to linger overlong - less out of choice, he knew: the echo of a soul could seemingly only sustain itself in this realm for a finite time, becoming progressively less substantial before eventually fading away forever. Where it went after that, he couldn’t say.

That was what kept him awake at night. Not the awful music someone might choose, or the fear that his funeral would be poorly attended. No - it was the creeping, uncaring entropy of death itself. The utterly dispassionate way it claimed everybody and everything. The way it would eventually claim him too.

“While we were working on your Mother’s obituary, I recall that you indicated she kept a garden at your childhood home in Cumberland. Are you able to remember if there were any flowers that she particularly enjoyed growing there?”

Of course he was asking her surviving son and daughter, but he was most certainly asking the ghost of Maude Laviolette as well. Something to go off of from any of them would be helpful at this point - they had been in arrangements for nearly two hours by then, and it was clear that everyone was growing tired.

“Delphiniums. Stock. Snapdragons.” Mrs. Laviolette ticked off garden flowers on her ghostly fingers, her voice an echoing melody composed of emotion and memory.

As the Laviolette siblings looked at each other over the table, trying to work out exactly what flowers their mother might have grown all those years ago, Emmrich flipped a few laminated pages of the binder, allowing himself to idly wonder what sort of flowers Rook liked - or if she even cared for them at all. It was so difficult to tell with her - assumptions almost always turned out to be wrong in her case, but she clearly had an affection for things that grew, so surely she appreciated the beauty of flowers?

“Perhaps an arrangement similar to this one here? The ‘Garden Stroll’ casket spray?” He tapped a ringed finger over the picture of a stunning arrangement of delphiniums, spray roses, mums, and iris that ranged from a delicate, powdery blue, to deep violet, to white.

“Oooooh you clever man!” The echo of the elderly woman clasped her hands under her chin and joy crept into her voice. “This is lovely! Could we swap out the mums for stocks and add in some snapdragons?”

“Oh yeah! Some of these look a lot like what Mum grew. The blue ones especially!” Eve Laviolette looked at her brother and pointed at the delphiniums in the photo. “Remember these ones, Aiden?”

Aiden Laviolette scratched at his dark brown beard and squinted at the binder.“I do. I do remember those. But there were others too that were kind of similar…”

“Snapdragons?” Emmrich prompted, for all intents and purposes, a senior mortician who was very well acquainted with flowers after so many years of doing this.

“That’s it!” Aiden exclaimed, “Snapdragons!”

“May I suggest if you’re adding the snapdragons, for the overall shape and spirit of the arrangement, you might consider switching out the chrysanthemums for some nice, gentle stocks? I’ve seen a similar arrangement where it was done to great effect.”

It wasn’t lying. Not really. Just… massaging the truth such that everyone - whether they had a pulse or not - was happy… or as happy as they could be given the circumstances…

He flipped to another page to show them an arrangement that featured some stocks.

“Eve, don’t you think that maybe Mum grew these too?”

Eve leaned over the page to take a closer look and gasped. “She did! What are the odds?” She looked up at Emmrich, her thin lips curving into a generous smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think she was giving you instructions from beyond the grave!”

Emmrich returned the smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling warmly as his face took on the oft-used expression that imparted comfort and peace to those living through dark days.

“A happy coincidence only, I’m afraid, but one that Mrs. Laviolette would be pleased with, I hope.”

His eyes strayed ever so slightly over Eve’s shoulder to see the phantom of Maude Laviolette, looking chuffed as anything as she looked over her daughter at the picture of the chosen floral arrangement.

“Thank you, young man,” she said, rubbing her daughter’s upper arm with the tender familiarity that only a mother could impart. Eve’s expression changed to one of surprise as she looked up at the touch, looking over her shoulder and seeing nothing. “You really are a credit to your profession. Thank you for taking such good care of my kids - Maker knows they need it right now.”

Emmrich entered the customizations for the casket spray into the file, went over the remaining details that needed to be decided that day, and printed the contracts to the administration office.

Taking the navy blue garment bag containing the clothing that Mrs. Laviolette’s family had brought for her to wear, he excused himself, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him. He would see to the contracts and give Eve and Adrien a few minutes to chat openly amongst themselves and have some space without the pressure of a near-stranger sharing the room with them.

Rebecca (‘Becks’ as she was known to most) handed him the itemized clothing intake form he’d gone over with the family and printed out, and he folded it in half and placed it inside the garment bag before writing Mrs. Laviollete’s name on a manila tag and attaching it to the clothing hanger with a rubber band.

“Thank you, Rebecca,” he handed the permanent marker he’d used to sign the tag back to Becks and took the contracts from her next. “Oh, could I trouble you for a jewelry envelope? They also brought her glasses, her wedding rings, and a pair of earrings if memory serves.”

The relief admin reached into a drawer under the desk and surfaced with a self-sealing, manila envelope, adding it to Emmrich’s growing pile of paperwork.

It was always strange seeing someone else sitting at Rook’s desk. He’d gotten so used to seeing her there over the past months. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Rebecca - quite the contrary: she was very good at her job, and a lovely person, but she wasn’t Rook.

“Did you get permission to post the obit on the website?”

“Ah! I thought I may have forgotten something… my apologies, Rebecca - I’ll be sure to ask before they leave.” He treated her to an apologetic smile and scrawled a few x’s on the contract to better indicate where the family needed to sign.

“Forgetting things, Emmrich?” Remarked Joan, the other permanent chapel administrator from her own desk. She was in her forties and had tightly curled hair the exact colour of nutmeg. She twirled her pen in her hand and smirked at Emmrich - this sort of harmless teasing was not unusual from Joan. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fight you clearly lost with an octopus last night, would it?”

Oh dear - his collar must have slipped down, revealing the deep mauve love bites Rook had left on his neck.

“That’s hardly any of your business, dear Joan,” he retorted curtly, adjusting his collar with dignity as he continued to review the funeral contracts.

“You gonna bring them to the Wintersend dinner?” She demanded, and Emmrich threw a cautionary glance at Becks as she failed to subtly lean over her desk to try and catch a glimpse at his neck.

“Perhaps,” he flipped the page, circled the price of the casket upgrade that they had discussed. His phone vibrated in his breast pocket, heralding the arrival of a text message - he already knew who it was from, and his stomach fluttered pleasantly. “We shall see.”

“You haven’t brought a date in years,” Joan said. “Was just talking about it with Wayne-“ ah yes, Wayne: Joan’s husband who worked at the nearby cemetery - somewhat rough around the edges, but a lovely fellow all the same. “- last one was that uh… what was she an art appraiser or something?”

“An art dealer,” Emmrich sighed, focusing intently on the contract hoping that Joan would take the hint: he saw little reason to stand around discussing a former flame with colleagues. Not with a family next door.

“That’s right!” Joan pointed her pen at him. “Any idea what she’s up to these days?”

Emmrich bit back his annoyance and forced his expression to remain stoic. “I haven’t any reason to, so no.”

He preferred not to think about Philomena. Preferred not to think about how the avant-gardé and eclectic Orlesian patron of the arts was initially swept off her feet by his charm and eccentricity; his passionate need to understand death and all of its facets, and his almost poetic talent for finding splendour and hope amongst decay and putrefaction.

He felt terrible about himself whenever he thought too hard about her, and he was reminded by his subconscious that she’d gone back to Orlais about a year into their relationship and stopped calling him, texting him, and emailing him without a word of warning.

He never really understood why - never got a tidy explanation - but he had a few guesses: likely a culmination of many things - one too many cocktail or dinner parties amongst the elite creatives of Nevarra where he misread the room. One too many anecdotes about death or decomposition delivered with the casual ease of someone describing the process of preparing an omelette: “It’s a commonly held misconception that rigor mortis is a permanent affliction, however, the stiffening of joints and muscles after you pass on only lasts for a few short hours. Admittedly it can make it challenging for one to manipulate the extremities during that time, but simply massaging the affected areas causes rigor to subside in short order, restoring flaccidity and range of movement so the limbs can be moved freely once more.”

“… Ohhh!” Someone would say with feigned enthusiasm after too many moments had passed without anyone saying anything. “How… interesting!”

The slightly agape mouths and raised eyebrows told a different story.

Add to that one too many declarations of love and romantic intent: words trotted out in flowery verse; expensive gifts lavished with the unspoken hope that they could make him enough in her eyes: I can provide, see? You will never want for anything. I am safe. I am kind. I love you, I love you, I love you - will you love me?

He knew he got too attached too quickly and too easily. He always had, and when he was inevitably left to clean up the aftermath of another lover’s hasty departure from his life, his old friend and colleague, Johanna was always quick to point out that of course he had managed to frighten yet another one away with his saccharine yearning - as if he needed reminding.

Not that he cared what Johanna thought, but he could practically hear her calling him a cradle-robbing pervert upon learning about Rook.

And would she be wrong?

Sighing again, he marked up one more place on the contract before heading back to the arrangement office.

As he vanished around the corner, he heard Joan say to Becks too loudly for it to be accidental, “Seems pretty miserable for a dude that just got laid.”

I really should have taken her out for dinner first. How thoughtless of me…

The guilt hadn’t subsided by the time he arrived home to shower, change, feed Manfred, and return to Rook’s apartment.

She’d messaged him twice throughout the day. Once in the morning to say she’d had a nice night, and once in the afternoon to say she was looking forward to seeing him again shortly - that one had been accompanied by a picture of her wearing nothing but a towel, the curves of her perfect breasts just barely concealed by the grey terry; drenched hair dripping tantalizingly over her skin.

He was grateful he’d waited to look at that one until after the Laviolette family left, because within minutes of opening it, the utterly gorgeous still frame of her had him rock hard, and he found himself shamefully jerking off in a stall in the staff bathroom, desperate to finish so he could refocus himself and concentrate on his final arrangement meeting of the day like he wasn’t some sort of lurid sex obsessed deviant who had successfully reduced a woman like Rook down to a vapid sex object.

He was grateful for a change that the family he was assisting wanted a direct cremation with no service, no viewing, and no obituary. The sole executor brought the will, and was the only person attending the meeting. Everything had been prepaid in advance by the deceased, so there were no changes nor any new decisions to be made: simple, quick, and to the point.

Despite this, Emmrich still managed to spell the word ‘preparation’ incorrectly three times in a row, and almost gave the son making the arrangements Rook’s business card instead of his own.

There was nothing for it: he was a mess.

A besotted, smitten, horny mess, and at this rate it wouldn’t be long before he frightened her away too. What was he thinking? That this young, beautiful creature with a lifetime of promise and possibilities before her would be in a hurry to tie herself down to a man old enough to be her father?

That she would happily embrace the strange looks they would almost certainly get in public as people drew conclusions they had no business drawing?

That she would quickly come to know the worst of him that dwelled beneath the thin veneer that was the ‘best’? The insecurity and loneliness and self-loathing; the irrational fears and anxieties that kept him awake at night and overwhelmed his mind at times, leaving him little more than a quivering, hyperventilating wreck, curled up under the blankets and praying for the Ativan to kick in soon.

She would figure out that he was too much. Too different. Too weird - even by the very broad definition applied by morticians.

He would have to tell her that he could see and speak with the dead.

He would have to tell her that more than anything in life, he was afraid of dying - a wildly contradictory fear for one in this profession.

She was going to know before long that the carefully crafted facade of Emmrich Volkarin was a lie - brazenly thrust into the world, and effective only because of the sheer amount of time he’d been insisting upon it.

She doesn’t deserve this.

She deserves a future full of joy and potential and dreams that are entirely attainable, should she only dare to wish for them.

I didn’t even ask her to dinner before I slept with her…

It seemed stupid to get hung up on that, but he was: mutual feelings or not, it fell to him to take the lead, and rather than controlling himself and treating Rook with the respect she was due, he took her to bed and didn’t even have the decency to spend the entire night.

She deserves respect, and here I’m treating her like a fantasy…

Tuning out Manfred as he twined around and through his ankles, coating the hem of his pant legs with white fur, Emmrich sighed and pulled out his phone, preparing to call Rook and tell her he couldn’t do it - he wasn’t coming over.

But before he could place the call, a banner appeared at the top of his screen.

Another message from Rook.

‘Are you on your way yet?’

A reasonable and fair question - that wasn’t the part of the message that made his eyes prickle unexpectedly. It was the words that followed.

‘I miss you.’

‘I just made it home - I’ll be over soon - close to 7:00. I miss you too, Rook. I missed you all day.’

Just as he said he would, Emmrich arrived right at 7:00. Rook had spent the last twenty minutes stationed at the window again, staring down the length of her street, her stomach leaping whenever she saw headlights turn off the main road.

When she finally saw the recognizable shape of Emmrich’s lights, her stomach flip-flopped even harder, and she pushed away from the window, taking a moment to check herself over one last time in the mirrored closet doors to make sure she had dressed herself properly: her hair was nicely pinned up in a bun with stray wisps pulled loose to frame her face, and she turned her back to the mirror, looking over her shoulder to check for the twentieth time that she hadn’t accidentally tucked the hem of her stretchy burgundy velvet mini dress into her thong. Her stockings were free of runs, and she hadn’t managed to soak sweat stains under her arms yet - though she suspected that was about to change. Her makeup still looked pristine, and the softly tinted gloss she’d chosen over her traditional matte red lipstick still looked good.

Satisfied, she slipped out of her apartment and down the stairs where she waited at the front door for Emmrich to appear, emerging from the dark to stride up the walkway, as elegant and refined as ever.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight she’d been waiting all day to see: him - with his perfectly styled silver hair and his angular, distinguished face. He wore the same black pea coat from the night before, and had switched out the brown chinos for charcoal grey tweed trousers that bore the same impeccable tailoring. With his expensive looking Antivan wingtips and his cream coloured scarf he looked like a bougie fashion journalist or something.

He looked fucking hot.

“Fuck me…” she murmured under her breath before flinging the door open and grinning at him. “Hey.”

“Hello, Rook,” he beamed, stepping inside and taking the weight of the door from Rook, letting it close shut gently behind him.

He was holding a white paper shopping bag, and his glasses fogged up again the same way they had before, and for a moment she was at a loss for what to do with herself as they occupied the small vestibule.

Making a decision for both of them, he swept her against him with his unburdened arm and brushed his lips over her left cheek, then her right, before releasing her.

“I’m sorry it took me so long - traffic and Manfred, you see.”

Hoping he couldn’t see her sway in place as the elation of being touched by him again negated her ability to balance properly, she unlocked the main door and he followed her inside and up the stairs.

“Oh no… no problem at all. I know it’s a long drive. How was Manfred?”

“Oh he managed to break into the pantry today and ate an entire loaf of bread. I think he’s rather upset that I was absent last night for far longer than I usually am.”

Guilt wrung Rook’s gut then. “Sorry,” she glanced over her shoulder at him, offering a sympathetic grimace as they continued their ascent. “I’d say you could bring him with you next time, but there’s a ‘no pets’ policy and my landlord is a real prick about it - last year the old man in 204 got a hermit crab to keep him company after his wife died and the prick made him get rid of the little guy.”

“How sad,” Emmrich frowned, looking genuinely sorrowful at this.

“I brought him a house plant - a cutting of Perry, actually - and I try to visit him once a week for coffee. He’s grateful, but I think he’d be happier with his hermit crab… or his wife for that matter.”

Emmrich’s mouth curved in a soft smile, though the melancholy didn’t leave his eyes. “That’s very sweet of you, Rook.”

“It’s not,” she argued placidly. “It’s just the right thing to do: people should look out for each other, but for some reason they just… don’t and it annoys the fuck out of me.”

“That makes two of us,” Emmrich agreed, wincing slightly as they made it to the landing of Rook’s floor.

“Shit, sorry - are you okay?”

“Oh yes, just the ever-present protestations of knees that I should have cared for better in my youth.”

Rook didn’t know what to say to that. She certainly couldn’t render solidarity in the form of a believable ‘Ugh! Me too! Fucking achy joints amirite?’

She didn’t have achy joints: she was 25.

So instead she just nodded and opened the door to her apartment, ushering Emmrich inside with the same elevated politeness that she ushered families into visitation rooms with.

“What have you got there?” She asked, pointing at the bag that he had set down in the entryway so he could undo his scarf and slip out of his coat.

“Give me a moment to sort myself out and I’ll show you,” he retorted with the tempered ease she’d come to know. He hung his coat and the scarf on a hanger and put them in the closet before removing his shoes. “You look lovely, by the way.”

Damn right I do - I don’t dress up in my own house for just anybody.

“Thank you.”

Emmrich straightened and pushed his shoes to the side of the mat with his foot. He was wearing dark green dress socks with a beige diamond pattern on them, and a black turtleneck that made for a decidedly Warhol-esque look.

They regarded each other silently for moments that lasted far longer than they had any right to, clearly both at a loss as to how best to proceed.

“I uh… haven’t started dinner yet, but if you want some wine, I—“

Something seemed to snap into place in Emmrich’s brain and his eyes widened at her words. “Wine. Right!” He scooped the white paper bag up from the floor and reached inside, withdrawing a visibly dusty bottle and handing it to Rook. “You must forgive me - I didn’t think to ask what was on the menu tonight, so it might be a poor pairing - foolish of me - but the… the wine I brought you last night is… well it’s…“ he sighed wearily, “This will be far more palatable, trust me.”

Rook looked at the bottle in her hands, swaths of dust cleared away to reveal dark, shining glass where her fingers and his had touched it.

She was far from a connoisseur of wines, generally opting to drink anything that had a price tag of $10 or less - or came in a box - and would surely get her drunk faster than beer.

“This is… this is… really nice wine, isn’t it?”

Emmrich made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, “Hardly the nicest, but a definitive improvement on anything with a screw-top.”

Rook swallowed, feeling out of her depth: poor… stupid… uncultured.

Seeming to pick up on her discomfort, he plucked the bottle from her hands and wiped the remaining dust from the label. “It’s from my personal collection: one of a few that I have left from a good year. I think I purchased a case of these for eighteen dollars per bottle, so it’s less that I broke the bank, and more that I stumbled upon something good and decided I wanted to hold onto it.”

“I don’t even know if I have a corkscrew,” she admitted, still feeling sheepish.

“Well we’ll sort that out if we need to,” he treated her to that easy, nonjudgmental smile again and picked up the bag again, handing it to her. “For you.”

Rook’s eyebrow raised when she accepted the bag. She peered into it, then back to Emmrich, then she abandoned the entryway, placing the bag on the kitchen counter and reaching inside.

Her fingers closed around a hard ceramic pot, swaddled in cardboard and plastic. Carefully lifting it, she set the pot on the counter and pried the plastic away, revealing a plant with deep green leaves and a woody stem. Its delicate limbs curled prettily upwards, and small white buds were nestled in the fragrant greenery.

She gently rubbed a leaf between her thumb and forefinger, saying hello to her new friend.

“You brought me a plant?” She asked, staring at the fledgling creature, her heart filling. “What florist is even open at this hour?”

“Odella’s, of course,” Emmrich answered, naming the florist that McDermott & Rafferty had contracted out for funeral flowers for years.

She felt his presence drawing close to her, heard him place the wine bottle on the counter gently, then felt his hand on the narrow curve of her waist - almost tentatively at first until it became obvious that she was not going to flinch away… only then did it settle. With his other hand he brushed a sprig of leaves and stooped slightly behind her, placing his face alongside hers.

“I thought to bring you flowers at first, but this seemed a more fitting offering than an impermanent and fleeting bouquet, given your passion for growing things.”

She didn’t understand why at the time, but the fact that he remembered - or even cared - about her affinity for houseplants made something tighten in her chest.

Tommy hated them. He thought they were a waste of time. Told her if she was gonna bother putting so much energy into growing something, it might as well be smokable.

“Do you… like it?”

Rook realized that she hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t said anything. Not so much as a ‘thank you’.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, though she hadn’t any clue what it was. “It’s… it’s a…?”

“A jasmine plant,” Emmrich assisted. “It will bloom for you in time, so the flowers are forthcoming.”

Rook pulled her gaze from the small potted plant and turned against the edge of the counter so she was facing Emmrich.

“Something to look forward to, then,” she smiled, looking up at his kind face. She curled her fingers into the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. “Thank you. For the plant, and the wine… you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to,” he entreated, his sweet, spearmint scented breath washing over her cheeks as she fixated on the enticing shape of his lips.

She still needed to start dinner. She hadn’t even put music on. She promised him a meal, and here she was, wasting time…

“You been tested recently?”

The amorous look in Emmrich’s eyes vanished, replaced with confusion. “Tested? I—?”

“STI panel.”

“Oh!” The faintest blush crept over the bridge of his nose and he looked at the cupboards over her shoulder. “Every year, or after a new partner, whichever comes first, but… I haven’t had a new partner in some time and-“

“You’re clean?”

The flush deepened, diffusing over his cheeks. “W-well yes, of course, but-"

Satisfied, Rook pushed away from the counter enough to drop to a crouch, one knee brushing the floor as she undid Emmrich’s belt buckle and slipped the button of his trousers loose.

Catching on, he managed to babble, “Rook, darling, y-you don’t have to-“ before she dropped his zipper and pulled his dick out of his underwear, casting one cheeky look up at the stammering man in front of her before taking him in her hand and dragging her tongue up the underside of his cock.

“Ah!” He moaned unbidden at the sudden wet warmth when she took him into her mouth, buckling slightly against the counter behind her. “R-Rook!”

Her other hand found the back of his thigh and she locked him in place, filling her mouth with his semi-hard length, hollowing her cheeks and sucking him in, her pussy immediately responding to the high pitchy breaths - little half groans and whimpers - that poured from his lips.

He was surprised by this sudden turn of events, yes, but he didn’t pull away; didn’t tell her to stop. Instead, his gasps gave way to deep elated sighs as she worked him with her mouth and her hand, taking her time and worshipping his long, thin cock, tracing every handsome vein; revelling in the salty tang of his skin and the slickness of his precum on her tongue as she knelt in front of him.

“S-so good…” he whispered, carding the fingers of one hand through her hair, his head tipping back, “Oh… that feels so, so good…”

I know it does, handsome…

Rook hummed approvingly around him, feeling him throb against the roof of her mouth. She let go of his cock, wrapping her wet fingers around the back of his other thigh before slackening her jaw, opening her throat, then taking him deep, deep, and deeper still until she felt him butt against the space just beyond her tonsils. He squirmed in her hands, biceps femoris fluttering coyly under her fingertips. His hand tightened in her hair, but not enough to hurt.

She inhaled deeply through her nose, filling her lungs and belly, lost in the cathartic victory of the bliss she was subjecting him to; the smell of him; the dainty sweetness of the viscous, anticipatory fluid that continued to seep from his sensitive slit...

He moaned her name quietly again when she eased him further down her throat, exhaling slowly… so slowly through her nose as she went, bobbing her head slightly and going further with each stroke until he was fully seated and her nose brushed skin beneath the coarse thatch of hair on his lower belly.

He positively vibrated in her hands - ass clenching, thighs spasming, hips jerking, the nails of his free hand scrabbling over the smooth surface of the counter as Rook swallowed around him and fucked him with her throat, each lewd wet thrust punctuated by the unseemly sound her vocal cords made as they were repetitively prodded by his intrusive length.

“Darling…” he whined, a man toeing the chasm of abandon. “D-darling please… I can’t… oh - I’m going to— ohhh!”

His words were cut short and he went rigid as a corpse before uttering a strangled yelp and collapsing against the counter with a thud, propped on an elbow as his hips jerked gracelessly against Rook’s face and she felt his hot, thick cum spill down her throat - one satisfying, relieving pulse after another.

She moaned as she swallowed him, cunt aching as she drank him deep, his warmth spreading through her, her name falling raggedly from his mouth over and over and over, each repetition more reverent than the last.

When he was done, she twitched her jaw, let him slip wetly from her, traced her lips with her tongue, and smiled up at his fucked-out face.

“I was looking forward to an appetizer, and it was delicious…” she rose, tucking his cock back into his pants and doing them up. “So… how about that glass of wine, handsome?”

It was actually pretty funny, the way that Emmrich was gaping at her with his unusually clumsy fingers absently trying to configure his belt buckle, his face flushed and shiny with post-orgasmic bliss.

“Wine,” he swallowed, throat bobbing, hazel eyes blown out behind the lenses of his glasses. “Yes, yes… allow me.”

He seemed to grasp onto some scant flotsam of rational thought amongst the pitching sea of post-nut clarity and finished with his belt, sliding his sleeves up his forearms and clearing his throat before saying (roughly), “If you did happen to have a corkscrew, where might it be?”

[vandme12]

Ronin w a reader that's secretly a killer and kills people by stitching their skin from inside to outside and they just let them die there because they know they will die by hypothermia?? Also needs the server's reaction!!

“A devil’s love deserves a devil’s gift, doesn’t it?”

That’s the thought dancing through your mind as you pull the needle through your latest canvas—skin slick with blood, trembling under your hands. The poor bastard beneath you is still alive, gagged and whimpering as you thread the coarse black twine through their flesh. Inside to outside. Over and over. Skin twisted backwards like a grotesque piece of origami, their body losing heat with every second.

You don’t rush. No, you take your time. This isn’t about the kill—it’s about the art. About watching how long they squirm as their body fails them. Cold creeping in. Blood congealing. Skin stretched taut, exposed in all the wrong places.

It’s a slow death. And you like it slow.

By the time they stop twitching, you’re already thinking of him—your boyfriend, if that’s what you’d call a devil who grins while breaking bones. Ronin’s been feeding you bits of his chaos for months, but he has no idea what you’ve been up to. Not yet. You’ve played the part of his sweet little writer—curious, twisted, but not too twisted.

He underestimates you. And you’re going to change that.

It starts with a photo.

You, kneeling beside your masterpiece. Their arms are stitched across their back like a human corset. Skin flayed in layers, a rose of flesh blooming from their ribcage. The alley is freezing tonight—you made sure of it. Left them out long enough for their body to betray them while you stitched. By the time they died, it was hypothermia that did the final work. Such a gentle death, really.

You angle the photo perfectly—just enough blood, just enough horror. And, of course, the final touch: a hand-stitched heart carved delicately into their chest. For him.

You hit send.

goreboy: holy fucking shit goreboy: that’s not a stock photo, is it, baby? you: Wouldn’t you like to know? ���️

His typing bubble flickers for a full minute. He’s thinking. Processing. You wonder if he’s hard. He probably is.

goreboy: i swear if this is real, ‘m gonna propose right fuckin’ now you: Keep talking like that and I might make you a matching one.

It takes less than ten minutes for Ronin to summon you to Purgatory—his favorite little slice of hell. And when you get there, he’s waiting.

Blood already stains his hands. There’s a body at his feet—limp, broken—but his attention isn’t on the corpse. It’s on you. His black-hole eyes devour every inch of you as you saunter toward him.

“You didn’t tell me you had a hobby,” he drawls, voice syrup-sweet.

“You never asked.”

Ronin’s fingers curl under your chin, tilting your head back. “You’re full’a secrets, huh? And here I was, thinkin’ I’d broken ya open already.”

“I don’t break easy.” You smirk. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

His laugh is low, wicked. “Guess I gotta work harder.” His mouth brushes against your ear. “But first—tell me, darlin’… how long did that poor bastard last?”

“Long enough to make it fun.”

A groan escapes him—pure fucking delight. “God, I knew there was something rotten inside you. But this?” He leans back, drinking you in. “This is my kinda love letter.”

And just like that, you know you’ve got him. Hooked. Obsessed. You’ve always belonged to him—but now, he belongs to you too.

Naturally, #killer_shit erupts the second you drop the photo.

goreboy: hey, losers goreboy: y’all better bow the fuck down, my girl’s got hands you: Hypothermia’s a bitch. Who knew?

angel: wait. wait. WAIT. angel: BABY GIRL, THIS IS YOUR WORK?? you: 😘

misaki: hold the fuck up—since when do YOU kill??

goreboy: since always, apparently. goreboy: and none of y’all bitches noticed. tragic.

angel: no bc I’m actually obsessed. The stitching?? Inside-out?? That’s some haute couture murder.

vince: jesus. You’re really one of us, huh?

you: What can I say? Peer pressure’s a bitch.

v: Efficient. No wasted resources. I approve.

Of course V would appreciate the method. Practical bastard.

luca: ok but like. HOW cold does it gotta be for someone to freeze like that??

you: Zero degrees Celsius. Give or take. The trick is keeping them exposed—skin loses heat faster. 😉

goreboy: fuck, baby. look at you. Educating the masses.

felicite: (respectfully) I’m terrified of you.

you: Good. You should be.

The messages keep rolling in—praise, shock, twisted fascination. But Ronin? Oh, he’s on a whole other level. You feel his hands before you hear his voice—curling around your waist, pulling you flush against his blood-smeared chest.

“Y’know what this means, don’tcha?” he murmurs.

“What?”

His teeth scrape against your throat, dangerously close to a bite. “Means we gotta do somethin’ bigger. Better. Together.”

You shiver—part fear, part desire. “Planning a couples’ murder spree, Ronin?”

“Damn right I am,” he growls. “Ain’t no one else I’d wanna paint the town red with. ‘Specially not after this.” His fingers trace a slow circle against your pulse. “I gotta know, though… was it fun?”

A smile curls on your lips. “More fun than I expected.”

Ronin’s laughter is downright sinful. “I knew it. Knew you were one of us deep down. My dirty little secret.”

“You’re not the only one with secrets,” you remind him.

“And thank fuck for that.” His hand tightens at your waist. “But baby… next time? You let me watch.”

“Only if you’re good,” you tease.

He groans, dragging you against him like he can’t stand the thought of letting go. “I’m always good, sugar. Ain’t that what you love about me?”

It is.

And as you kiss him—blood and lust tangling on your tongues—you realize you’ve crossed a line you can never come back from.

But why would you want to?

Later that night, another body hits the chat.

goreboy: date night went well you: teamwork makes the dream work ♥️

The chat goes wild. Angel threatens to propose. Misaki demands a full play-by-play. Luca jokes about how you two should start a murder-themed podcast. Even V—stoic, detached V—admits the precision is impressive.

But none of their reactions matter. Not really.

Because in the end, there’s only him.

And now, he knows the truth.

You’re not his sweet little writer anymore.

You’re something much, much worse.

And he loves you for it.

[multiheadcanons]

THE MERCS WATCHING ME DO MY JOB BECAUSE IM SICK OF WATCHING THEM DO THEIRS

scout: what if i throat chopped him instead. he will want to talk and i can’t work and talk at the same time… at all. he’d be asking veterinary questions and i’d have to be like bro… i’m not that guy. you may think i’m that guy but i’m not that guy. i’m not that guy at all bro. his puny brain cannot comprehend how i take a dirty nasty dog and turn it into a beautiful, clean, fresh smelling dog. like the process baffles him after the scrubbing part of the bath. but he enjoys watching it.

soldier: he will try to help and i will have to politely tell him to sit his ass down and watch. might have him lift the big dogs on my table. also marginally baffled at how i manage to do my job. finds it funny when i have to climb into the tub. he asks questions i should feasibly know, but i just can’t talk and work at the same time. if he has questions he should wait until after i’m off. he’d be fun to bitch to off the clock.

pyro: they will watch politely, and occasionally ask to pet a dog, and then i’d have to tell them i’m not insured for anyone else except me touching the dog. i might let them pet the ones i know are very nice and friendly. but not for long, since i do still have to do my job. but they’d be a very nice spectator, and i’d let them pick bandanas and bows if they so wished to. every animal that steps off my table looks nice to them, and sometimes i will have to cringe and accept the uneducated compliment.

demo: asleep in the kennel. joking! kinda. but in all seriousness he’s genuinely interested in my work! he recognizes the necessity of it, and applauds my efforts to do my best. finds it somewhat humorous this is my occupation; though the more he thinks about it, he finds that he couldn’t imagine me doing anything else, really. happy i made something of myself.

heavy: a quiet watcher. will not give an opinion unless i ask for it, which is incredibly welcomed. very much a rubber duck type. he won’t talk while i’m working, and if anything will tell me to quit talking and work, that i do better work when i’m quiet, and he is very right about that, so i will oblige. but as we both look at the dog, he might point out something i don’t see, especially if it’s a larger dog and he knows i’m losing steam from staring at the dog for so long. best for last minute catches and fixes.

engineer: appalled and frightened by the state of my clippers. work will stop so he can fix them. and the entire time i am getting an earful about the importance of maintaining my tools. while i get it, if the guy only comes on fridays, and i gotta call… i just ain’t got the brain for it sometimes engie, im sorry. he does still realize the quality of my work, he just knows it’ll be easier with a new blade drive. and he’s certainly not wrong.

medic: the doc doesn’t want to see me do a good job on a nice dog where it’s sunshine and rainbows and happiness and love and joy and i can make the dog look great. call him when i’m suffering. he’ll be there when i’m sitting with the dog on my table and my head in my hands. he wants to see the work come to a complete stop. he wants to see the ones that wreck my time management for the day. he wants to see the crisis cases. he wants watch me cry so he can laugh about it. tell me this is the job. shape up and finish it.

sniper: every dog looks great. once i pull out the thinners he’s impressed. but it is only occasionally when he is interested in details. will normally watch in silence. polite enough to wait for me to be off work to ask his questions. and if i can answer them, i will! he finds it to be an odd, niche job. but he doesn’t think it in a negative way, he himself has an odd, niche job. just interesting to see how odd and niche it can get on both ends.

spy: finally, a man with some strong opinions. spy will be critical and i will welcome it, no question. he’s so picky that when i parse through his comments on my technique i find that he’s actually saying things i can use. or at least things i should consider. he’s a good stand in for a client, staring over my shoulder, parsing through my notes, especially if i got to interact with the client beforehand. i get good results with him.

[altkys]

=͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝙉𝙤𝙬 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜... 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙮 𝙃𝙤𝙯𝙞𝙚𝙧 [ 𝘼𝙪𝙙𝙞𝙤𝙨, 𝙎𝙤𝙡𝙤, 𝘾𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙣 ]

@aroundsometimes

AHHH I’m so, so sorry this took so long, school started again and it hit me like a bitch 😭😭

Hope you enjoy this Diluc piece, I definitely didn’t. I also hope I captured the vibe of the song correctly (once again, definitely didn’t) but that’s ok. Sorry if you didn’t want this to be a romance, I tried to keep it a generic as possible in case you didn’t, and finally, thank you for being my first ever request!!

Anyways, enough of my yapping. On with the show.

❝ That I'd be Anywhere that you are That you are ❞

Diluc is busy. Between duties as the infamously dubbed ‘Darknight Hero’, or everyday ones as Master Diluc or Angel Share’s bartender, his schedule is always packed. Regardless of the circumstances, it’s always taken his utmost effort to keep his day running smoothly without fail.

Of course, the universe has other ideas for the pyro user, because the one day all he’s doing is tending to the vineyard, you crash his plans. Quite literally.

You fall out of the sky, landing on one of the empty wooden carts — and thankfully not getting impaled on a fence. It takes a single glance to see the ice encrusted on your feathers, stiffening them up and weighing them down. Work of the Fatui, Diluc’s mind supplies immediately. Scum.

He moves to help — why wouldn’t he lend a hand to those targeted by the same filth he has been? Especially when the issue can be fixed so quickly with his vision and resources?

Unfortunately for him, it’s you that’s the problem.

“Don’t touch me.” You practically snarl and crawl away, wings arching as you tremble from the effort of keeping them extended in what he assumed was an attempt at keeping him at arms — or wings — length.

The action exposes your very human torso and legs, barely covered by a few stray feathers and scraps of surprisingly clean cloth, like a much more respectable hillichurl. But Diluc keeps his eyes on your face, excluding a simple glance for weapons and other injuries.

How strange. His face feels hot— hotter than usual as he meets your piercing gaze.

“I’m not going to—“

“Quiet.”

He’s cut off by your voice, it’s sharp and clipped, but just soothing enough to lull him into silence. If it were nicer words you were saying, perhaps he’d be… hypnotised. In a way.

He takes the brief moment to take you in, eyes flickering to your wings — broken and covered in small holes that can only be from the shards from an icy explosion, and to your eyes — cold and guarded as you stare him down, as if he’s the one who tried to hurt you.

The silence stretches in between the two of you, both locked in a staring contest and neither making a move to break it. It’s almost like you’re both trying to gouge each other’s soul simply by looking.

With more effort than he thought necessary, Diluc gets his mouth to move. “I hardly believe you can order me, when it’s my property you’ve crashed into, while injured.”

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say.

You practically hiss at him, your wings flaring to full size as you stumble backwards and try to bring yourself back up — to your feet, rather than on your knees.

“I don’t care.” Your voice is almost too hoarse to be heard over the pounding of blood in Diluc’s ears. 

You’re in pain, obviously, and the strain of speaking must’ve hurt more than it would’ve done any good. He has to resist the urge to rush over and help. You wouldn’t appreciate it, judging by your reaction to his approach before. Though he admits it was rather… insensitive.

“You are a fool, not to fear me.” You’re swaying when you take a step forward, one of your legs nearly giving out as you drag your legs. “I’ve crushed men under my fingers like they were nothing but ants, hunted them for sport. Torn them apart.”

Diluc doesn’t back down, staying silent in his position as he reaches back, summons his claymore—

And promptly throws it to the side. Out of arm's reach. It’s clear you aren’t going to last much longer, and he’d rather not have his eyes scratched out when you awake.

Your gaze, although slightly hazed over from what Dilic can assume is a concussion, flicker to his blade, then back to him. That same piercing gaze that had him frozen in place moments before, except now it’s more… confused. More wary, as you shift to stand still, no longer trying to make a break for it.

“What are you doing?” There’s a waiver to your voice, and your wings shake slightly, like you’re struggling to hold them up — which you are.

It’s not like there’s immediate trust. You’re still cautious, ready to fight until passing out, but you’re also smart enough to know you won’t last long enough to do real enough damage to escape.

So you’re still as Diluc takes a few steps forward.

“I can help you. Just let me.”

For someone who has fought for their life dozens more times than a normal human could ever wish for, the words come out easily. They’re true in a way, a promise he’s willing to keep. Though the words are much more sincere than usual, a gentle tone he usually never uses, except for—

Your wings fold around yourself, shaking slightly and trembling from the effort. “No.”

But your wings droop and the sound is loud in Diluc’s ears as you stagger forwards again, eyes half lidded. It’s only a few more moments before you collapse, body almost hitting the dirt instead of his arms as a shaky breath rattles your lungs.

He doesn’t hesitate to catch you in his arms, scooping you up bridal style and making sure not to hurt you any more than you already are. He’s careful, almost too cautious, like he’s holding a bomb instead of an injured person.

Despite you being far from human, you’re light. Almost too light, which doesn’t bode well — has it been a while since you’ve been able to eat? Was it just your wings that are heavy and make you seem bulkier?

He knows birds have light bodies to fly, and though you look healthy and human, it could apply to you.

“I don’t trust humans.” You grit out, trying to squirm out of his hold, and Diluc is somehow compelled to agree, even through surprise. Why not monsters? Though, with your wings it’s clear you are one yourself, Diluc has always subconsciously thought of you as more… refined. Perhaps you’re more humanistic than they are.

He ignores how his first thought was more ‘beautiful’.

“Well,” Diluc lets a crude, bitter smirk twist his lips as he looks down at you. “It’s a good thing I’m called an inhuman bastard then.”

“Hurt me and you die.”

Despite the sleep threatening to pull you under, you remain awake as he treats you, intent on making good on your word. But…

He's gentle. Not enthusiastic, nor openly interested in becoming friends, but there’s a subtle tenderness in his hands as he works to gently thaw the ice, so as to not shock your wings.

Some maids come in, trays of steaming, hearty food piled onto the plates. Mond’s finest, you’re sure. They look happy as well, to be of service. As if being at someone’s beck and call was worth celebrating. You don’t understand it.

Diluc assures you that you don’t need to.

“What are you?” He asks absentmindedly as his hand holds a steady flame near the edge of your wing, never extinguishing despite the vapour behind produce from the ice. 

It’s clear Diluc doesn’t mind being in the dark as to your species, but it’s equally obvious to him that you’re fighting to stay awake. So, talking helps. And he’d rather a passé you now, than an aggressive one later.

… and he couldn’t deny the curiousity, not to your origin, but you in general. “I’ve never seen someone half bird before.”

Your shoulders stiffen, teeth clenched together at his question. It takes several seconds for you to decide whether to answer, gaze dropping to your lap as you try to ignore how your cheeks are starting to heat up.

It’s not fair, that he can rile you up in a way you’ve never felt before. You’ve always been… distant from other beings. You’re not used to this.

Maybe it’s the fever talking. The sickness has you less than eager to argue.

“A harpy.” You rasp, voice hoarse from the effort of getting the words out. “One who mimics the eagle.”

“I thought so.” He nods, eyes flicking to you before studiously turning back to your icy  feathers. 

“Really?” You scoff, tearing off a piece of chicken with a claw and shoving it in your mouth to keep yourself awake just that little bit longer. “Didn’t think harpies were common in the city of freedom.” Or Teyvat.

“Not harpies.” Diluc corrects softly. He picks up a fork and arranges a bite, holding it up to your mouth when you swallow your previous. “Eagles.”

“You like them?”

“I have one as a…” Diluc struggles to find the right word, his brain suddenly all too focused on the way your lips wrap around the utensil. “A pet, of sorts.”

Your eyes glimmer with something positive for once, whether it’s the carefully prepared food or the mention of another eagle, he doesn’t know. But… well, he’d like for that look to stay for just a little while longer.

“Would you like to meet him?” He chances to ask.

“Yes.” You nod. The speed almost makes you dizzy.

You try to keep the eagerness out of your answer, but that one word comes out in a flurry, more like a plea than an agreement. It’s almost embarrassing, how much you want to see him. The eagle, that is.

You ignore the way Diluc’s lips quirk up, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile. 

You’re soft with the bird, paying Diluc no mind as he continues to heal your wings. It’s barely ten minutes when he’s done— and sure, the meal you were supposed to eat had been fed to (name), and you’ve already succumbed to sleep, but Diluc can’t find it in himself to care.

When you wake, it’s awkward. Humans had always been untrustworthy, and suddenly one shows up and puts that entire worldview on its head.

It’s not as if you suddenly trust all of humanity, you convince yourself, just that this one happens to be an outlier. One who saved you and fixed the one thing that made you able to live as your species.

The next time Diluc visits you, this time holding a tray himself, he’s met with a stammered, awkward apology from a very much healthier harpy. It’s… almost cute.

From then on, your relationship is much better. The status of acquaintances is quickly upgraded to friendship when you sample the food he’s brought you, finally able to appreciate the quality now that you weren’t half dead.

Of course, you’re not made to be kept inside. You go your separate ways not long after, but you pop in occasionally, though without warning, as it’s much more fun to see his surprise when you appear.

From strolls through the vineyard to Diluc neglecting his customers so he can engage in rare conversation with you in Angel Share, it’s rare for the townsfolk to see Diluc so happy and not think ‘where’s the harpy?’ 

Your conversations are sweet, with the common banter and occasional awkward side hugs and chivalrous gestures. So, when Diluc sees you fight, manipulating anemo to your will without the use of a vision, he’s shocked, unable to focus on anything but your agile form expertly manoeuvring through the enemies and striking them down.

When he hears you fight, he doesn’t. Bor does he hear the end of the continuous apologies from you— it’s not your fault you didn’t realise how fragile human ears were. 

“Sorry, sorry.” You say sheepishly, head bowed as you bob up and down on the cart Diluc pushes you on. The exact same one you crushed when you first met. It’s fixed now, and just slightly nicer looking than the rest.

“It’s fine.”

Diluc waves a hand, eyes glancing between you and the road as his voice stays level. Though, on the inside, his head is pounding, blood rushing through his veins until he can hardly focus on anything but the sound of his own heart. 

It rings in his ears like a bell, loud and obnoxious. He’s thankful that no one has seen him yet — who knows what the townspeople would think if they saw their reclusive ‘Darknight Hero’ in such a state.

Then again, his maid (Adelinde) walking in on him getting splashed with grape juice to carefully make a certain bottle of liquor — one you may or may not be currently indulging him — which is also just as humiliating.

He doesn’t exactly do camaraderie.

“If you say so.” You hum, raising a wing to block the sun. A stray feather floats down into his hair, and Diluc silently thinks it would make a good keepsake. “… Thank you, Diluc.”

He blinks, eyes wide and confused. It’s kind of adorable. “Why the sudden gratitude?”

You shrug, averting your gaze to the sky. If you were to maintain eye contact any longer, shyness would be inevitable. “Just felt like it.” 

“… You don’t need to thank me.”

And he means it. Despite how you had practically barged into his work, injured and distrustful and ready to rip his throat open, he looks forward to your strange, unannounced appearances.

Sometimes he’ll find himself zoning out, wondering if you’re doing well, how your wings are healing up or just staring at the ceiling in his office, contemplating the way your eyes shone as you met his gaze.

You’ve managed to worm your way into his head… and perhaps his heart. One he had thought died with Crepus. 

“From the very bottom of my heart, I thank you too.”

[uceyliyahh]

IMPERFECT FOR YOU

summary: Miyori and Jey were in a relationship for three years until she saw him laid up with another girl that wasn’t her and it broke her heart so she decided block him on everything and focus on her career until she gets a text message from him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 5987

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Miyori

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

again mdni you have been warned.

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @li-da-savage @ctinadiva @clubsoft

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @lilucey @usoinked @christinabae

@celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @prettyfilmz

𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖔

uceyjucey replied to your story: Mamas where you heading? jonathanfatu replied to your story: see you when you get here sis! trinity_fatu replied to your story: imma come pick you up from the airport text me when you land! aaron_pierre1 replied to your story: tf you finna go see him huh? jaidaparker_wwe: ohhhh it's on sight bitch jazzyV replied to your story: TEXT ME WHEN YOU LAND SO I CAN MAKE SURE YOU DONT GET KIDNAPPED theshaderoom replied to your story: 👀👀 usofan200 replied to your story: finna go see Jey huh?

MIYORI I’ve just arrived in Indianapolis for Friday Night Smackdown! As I stepped off the plane, I had my backpack slung over my shoulder and my suitcase rolling beside me through the airport. I checked my phone and noticed a message from Trinity, along with a bunch of replies to my story, including one from Jaida.

I couldn't help but laugh at her response, realizing that she seemed ready to take action against me all because of Jey, when really, she should have been focused on her work to prevent this situation. I decided to share my location with Jasmine so she could keep an eye on me and ensure I was safe, and I also sent a message to Trinity.

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: Heyyy Girly I'm made it to Indy Trin💚: I'm glad I'm otw to come get you Mimi💓: I'll be waiting outside for you then Trin💚: does Joshua know? Mimi💓: no he doesn't know I wanted to surprise him at work Trin💚: oh lawd he's going to be all over you by the time you hit that door Mimi💓: no literally also if something happens between me and that bitch Jaida you'll have my back right? Trin💚: wym? Did something happen? Mimi💓: she tryna fight me I'm down for anything tho she's just mad I got one up on her and I feel like that'll ruin the surprise Trin💚: I'll tell Jon to stall Josh for a while so y'all two can fight I bet money on you fr Mimi💓: Period I'm just that girl honestly Trin💚: aight I'll see you when I come get you Mimi💓: kk

While I was waiting for Trinity, I chose to stay in the lobby instead of waiting outside for her. I was aware that Jey had no idea I was in Indianapolis. Having visited the city a few times, I felt comfortable navigating my surroundings. As I waited for Trin, a fan approached me, wearing Jey's merchandise and beaming with excitement.

I gazed up at her, returning her smile as I listened to her words. "Are you Miss Miyori?" she inquired, and I responded with a nod.

"Would it be okay if we took a picture together?" The girl was incredibly sweet and innocent, making it impossible for me to refuse her. I nodded in agreement, rising from my chair and kneeling down to her level to capture a photo.

Her mother captured a few photos of us together, and afterward, I let out a sigh as I noticed the sign she had made for tonight's show.

"Thank you sooo much Miyori!" She said as she gave me a hug.

As I settled back into my seat and began scrolling through my social media, I waved goodbye to her. I was surprised to find that I was recognized by his fans; they appeared to be genuinely kind. However, I couldn't help but notice that some of them had a rather unusual presence online.

I heard a car horn and looked up to see Trin waving at me with a big smile as I was rolling my luggage outside. She quickly parked her car and rushed over, wrapping her arms around me in a warm hug.

Jimmy stepped out of the car and wrapped his arms around me, helping me with my luggage and backpack as we made our way to the backseat.

"Girrrrl it's been so long since I've seen you Mimi!" Trinity exclaimed as she smiled at me.

"I knowww we have to catch up on everything, where's Joshua?" I asked her.

"He's currently at the Marriott Hotel, and he has no idea you're here, right?" I nodded, confirming that he was completely unaware of my presence. "That guy has been making a fool of himself over you during this tour. Did he mention that he and Jaida had a fight because of you?" I was surprised to hear that; he hadn't mentioned any argument with her related to me. It made sense now why she had been acting out a few days ago, saying some wild things.

"He didn't tell me that but it's all good because if she wanna be tough I'll let her be tough." I said while folding my arms around my chest.

Jimmy then entered the car, making his way to the passenger seat and joining in on our conversation.

"Let's pray that he doesn't get you pregnant tonight Mimi." As we drove away from the airport toward the downtown hotel, Jimmy made a joke that had Trinity playfully hitting him on the shoulder, which made me chuckle.

☞ As I settled into my hotel room, I snuggled into the bed, pulling the blanket around me for warmth. I switched on the TV, looking for something to keep me entertained. Just then, my phone chimed beside me, and I glanced at the screen to see a message from Jey. A wave of anxiety washed over me, hoping he wasn't aware that I was here watching him in action.

Joshua🖤 sent a message

Joshua🖤: hey mamas wyd?

I began texting him back.

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: Hey Papa I'm not doing anything I'm just trying to find something to watch hbu? Joshua🖤: missin you right now Mimi💓: I miss you too don't worry you'll get to see me Joshua🖤: shi hopefully Mimi💓: but you gotta worry about your match for tonight Joshua🖤: hell yeah I know mamas also why Trin and Jon acting all weird today do you know sum that I don't? Mimi💓: nah I don't really know anything about that 🤷🏽‍♀️ Joshua🖤: you sure? Bc I'm hearing a certain someone is here  and they were very happy to see the person Mimi💓: Baby I don't know anything I swear Joshua🖤: aight if I find out that yo' ass lying Mimi💓: whatchu gonna do huh? Joshua🖤: fuck around and find out pretty thang Mimi💓: you so nasty Josh Joshua🖤: nasty for you though and yk you love it Mimi💓: mhm sure do Joshua🖤: I saw what you posted on your story wya? Mimi💓: I'm in Cali rn in a hotel room with Jasmine we finna go shopping in a little bit Joshua🖤: without me? Mimi💓: Omfg you're so cornyyy I told you you'll get to see me soon Joshua🖤: aight aight I'll let you go then I love you Mimi💓: I love you too

He had no idea that I was planning to go shopping with Trinity today before we headed to the stadium for Friday Night Smackdown. I sent Trinity a quick text to let her know I’d be ready soon so that Jey wouldn’t suspect anything about my being here.

I rose from my bed and made my way to my suitcase, searching for some clothes to wear today. I'm excited to finally catch up with my friend Trin; it feels like ages since we last saw each other—about four years, in fact, since I decided to block Jey on everything.

As I selected my clothes, I made my way to the bathroom to fill the bathtub with water. I gathered all my favorite scents and body wash, bringing them along with my towel to create a relaxing atmosphere.

uceyjucey replied to your story: without me mamas? trinity_fatu replied to your story: girl hurry up and come open the door before Joshua figure out where I'm at jonathanfatu replied to your story: don't get caught up Mimi jazzyV replied to your story: ouuuu girl you already enjoying yourself theshaderoom replied to your story: Miyori in Indy? 👀👀

I opened the door to find Trinity waiting for me, just as I was putting the finishing touches on my look. I applied some lip gloss, rubbing my lips together to create that satisfying "pop" sound.

"How's he holding up?" I begin to say while grabbing my purse and phone.

"Girl, he keeps on looking at your photos on his phone, he's fine he don't know a thing unless Jon say something to him." Trinity replied while rolling her eyes.

"If he does, we both get to jump him together, deal?" Me and her chuckled at my comment while heading outside the door together.

As Trin and I finished our shopping, we headed over to the food court to grab a bite to eat. Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I turned around, I saw Jaida standing there, her arms crossed and a stern look on her face.

I gently tapped Trin on the shoulder and gestured towards Jaida, sharing a knowing smirk with her. I had a feeling this was bound to happen.

"Well, well, well if it ain't the slut that took my man." Jaida said as I snickered at her.

"Girl, are you really going to fight me over a nigga that was mine in the first place?" I retorted while folding my arms over my chest.

I noticed her gathering her hair into a ponytail and removing her hoop earrings, signaling that she was serious about what was to come. If she was ready to take that step, I figured I should follow suit. I set my bags down on the ground, tied my hair back, and stretched my neck from side to side, preparing myself for whatever she had in store. I was ready to see what would happen next.

"He was never yours in the first place bitch, I don't know how you can just magically appear in his life again and try to take him away." She attempted to swing at me, but I was quick enough to evade her, pushing her back firmly and nearly making her lose her balance and fall to the ground.

"You sound fucking stupid right now." In that moment, she charged at me, reaching for my hair, but in the heat of the struggle, I instinctively seized hers and brought her down to the floor. Gasps filled the air as I found myself on top of her, forcefully pressing her head against the ground.

In the midst of the struggle, I found myself defending against her attempts to fight back. I could sense that I had the advantage, and as we grappled, we ended up with her on top of me. I instinctively shielded my body and face, trying to protect myself from her blows.

I shoved her away from me as I stood up to adjust my hair, grabbing her hair in the process. I swung my fist at her, landing hit after hit to assert my dominance. Just then, someone intervened and pulled us apart. Jaida was shouting and hurling insults at me, but I simply responded by giving her the finger.

I was able to tidy up my hair while gathering my belongings, including my food. I told Trin that we should leave before things took a turn for the worse and spoiled the surprise. Thankfully, no one recorded what happened between us; it would have completely derailed my plans to see him.

I spent some time in Trin and Jimmy's hotel room, waiting for the moment to head to the stadium for Friday Night Smackdown. I felt a wave of nerves wash over me, particularly because I was uncertain about how Jey would feel about my presence, especially as I made my way backstage to the locker room he shares with Jimmy.

"So basically you whooped her ass at the mall?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah, sure did, I mean she deserved it talking all of that shit on the gram." I said while touching up my makeup.

"I hope nobody recorded it, because then Josh will just know that you're here and have been lying to him about your whereabouts." He said.

I agreed with a nod, fully aware that if anyone found out, it would ruin the entire surprise. Still, I wasn't too worried; I knew he would find a way to reach me, no matter what.

I couldn't help but wonder what he planned to do about Jaida. I know he's been putting in a lot of effort for me lately, but she's still in the picture. I really need him to make it clear that I'm the one he wants to be with, not her. It just doesn't feel right to me to get back together with someone who's involved with someone else, so I hope he can find a way to end that situation.

If this was going to work out again she had to be gone.

I glanced at the clock and realized it was nearly time for us to leave. Just then, we all heard a familiar knock at the door—Jey's knock. I exchanged looks with Trin and Jim, who both urged me to hide in the bathroom. Without hesitation, I followed their cue.

I shut the door behind me while placing my ear on the door listening to their conversation.

"Is y'all fools ready or what?" Jey asked.

"Yeah, we ready nigga over her rushing us." Trinity replied while grabbing her luggage with all of her attires in it.

That's when he started to smell the room a bit noticing that it smelt like my perfume.

"Why it smell like Mimi been in here? Is y'all hiding something from me that I need to know about?"

"Nigga you trippin out again c'mon before we are late boy."

I cracked the bathroom door just enough to see Jimmy motioning for me to join him. I quickly grabbed my phone and purse, hurrying to catch up with him. It’s amazing how he can always tell what perfume I wear when I’m around him; I honestly thought I was in trouble.

We arranged for Jey and Jimmy to sit together in the car while Trin and I drove separately, ensuring that Jey wouldn’t suspect anything. I settled into the passenger seat, patiently waiting for Trin to load her belongings into the trunk so we could head to the stadium.

I was browsing through my social media, catching up on what everyone was discussing. I noticed Jaida making some comments about getting into a fight at the mall. She didn’t name anyone, but it was clear to me she was referring to me. I couldn’t help but find it a bit funny that she was so eager to confront me over a guy who has been mine from the start.

I heard Trinity coming inside of the car as I looked at her with a smile before chuckling.

"Girl, yo' ass almost got caught." She said.

"Aye at least I ran towards the bathroom before yall could let him in, I can't believe that he could smell my perfume in the room did I put too much on?" I say.

"Maybe..." I pushed her gently as we began driving away towards the placed.

As we made our way to the stadium, I gazed out the window, admiring the stars and the moon illuminating the night sky. It was a beautiful sight that brought back memories of a date with Jey, where we playfully teased each other, each trying to see who would give in first. That night was filled with so much laughter and excitement.

Being in his embrace once more brought me a sense of safety and calm that I never experienced with Aaron. Jey had a way of making me feel cherished and secure, something I truly missed. Despite his mistakes, I could feel that he loved me deeply, and that understanding stayed with me.

My thoughts were being interrupted by Trinity asking me something which caught me off guard showing my attention. "What's up?"

"I said that "miss you" sex finna hit different tonight between the two of you." I rolled my eyes at her knowing that she was right about that, he was going to spilt me in half once he gets his hands on me it's over with.

"That's what happens when you let a man like him crash out over a person like me he needs to understand that I'm the prize that he wants to get." I said.

"Period as you should let him know, that you're the prize, I like this new Mimi she's so exciting and daring." This new aspect of myself feels both thrilling and risky, and I genuinely enjoy it. However, I realize that whenever I'm near that man, all of that confidence tends to fade away.

As we arrived at the location, I stayed in the car, wanting to ensure everything was set before making my move. Once Trinity signaled me, I stepped out, clutching my purse and phone tightly. I made my way into the building, heading straight toward the area where the wrestlers were gathered.

I strolled through the backstage area, observing various wrestlers preparing for the show, each one donning their unique outfits. As I wandered around, I unexpectedly bumped into Roman Jey's cousin.

"Yo! Mimi what's good girl!" Roman said as me and him hugged each other. "What'chu doing here girl?"

"I'm here to watch Jey's match tonight, technically I'm surprising him he doesn't know that I am here right now."  I said as he shook his head chuckling at me.

"Man y'all two are something else is yall getting back together? I had seen something between you two on a date?" I nodded my head answering his question telling him how I was making his cousin work for it since he did what he did to me four years ago. "Damn, sounds like ya'll two finna have a good time together then but I gotta finish getting ready so I'll see you around?"

I smiled and embraced him before we went our separate ways. After that, I found my way to Jey and Jimmy's locker room, and I was struck by how beautifully it was decorated, with red and blue LED lights illuminating the space in a way that was truly unique.

I set my purse on the sofa beside me and settled into the leather seat, making myself comfortable. As I glanced up at the TV, I noticed that the show was just about to begin.

☞ Jey's victory over Drew was exhilarating and seeing him all sweaty and catching his breath only intensified my feelings for him. I quickly messaged Jimmy, asking him to hold off on entering the locker room for a moment, so Jey and I could share a special moment together.

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: Papa Joshua🖤: what's up mamas? Mimi💓: C'mere and come see me Joshua🖤: baby girl how am I supposed to come see you when you all the way in Cali mamas? Mimi💓: I'm not in Cali baby Joshua🖤: 🤨 then wya? Mimi💓: come to the locker room and find out 🙂‍↕️ Joshua🖤: Mimi don't fucking play with me aight Mimi💓: why would I be playing baby? C'mere Joshua🖤:  I'm otw and you better not move a damn inch either Mimi💓: I gotchu baby

I stood by the locker room, eagerly anticipating his arrival, knowing he was sprinting over to see his baby girl. As I waited, a text from Jimmy popped up on my phone, and it had me laughing uncontrollably.

Big Jim 🫡 sent a message

Big Jim🫡: don't get pregnant tonight sis he's been a rapid dog all damn week on this tour

As I responded to him, I heard the door creak open and looked up to find him gazing down at me. A smile spread across my face as I set my phone down on the couch and moved closer to him. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms and legs around his waist, and he gently pressed me against the wall, our lips meeting in a tender kiss.

The kiss was intense and full of longing, his tongue exploring my mouth while his body pressed against mine, radiating warmth. When I attempted to pull away, just as I had before, he drew me back in, craving the connection he felt he had been missing.

"You been playing huh?" He murmured between the kiss.

"I don't know what you talking about baby." I murmured back.

A playful smile crept onto his lips as he broke the kiss, his gaze locked onto mine. I found myself lost in his deep, chocolate-brown eyes, which seemed to peer right into my soul, filled with an undeniable desire.

I looked up at him with a playful smile, my eyes reflecting innocence, as he gently pressed another tender kiss to my lips. After that, he set me back on my feet, his hands resting on my waist, his thumbs softly gliding over my curves.

"Yo' ass been playing hide and seek with my ass, had me thinking you was actually in Cali."

"I wanted to surprise you Papa, I came all the way out here to see you." I said rubbing my hands over his chest.

"Mhmm I can see that mamas, does that mean I get my prize then?" Jey glanced at me with a playful smirk, his hands sliding down to my hips, giving them a firm squeeze as he drew me nearer to him.

The closeness of our noses intensified the electric tension in the air, each moment amplifying the desire between us. It was clear how much he longed to pull me closer and whisk us away to the hotel room.

"Have you been a good boy? For mama?" As I cradled his chin, my voice took on a gentler quality, contrasting with my usual tone. I brushed my thumb lightly against his cheek and let my fingers glide through his hair, giving it a slight tug that elicited a soft groan from him.

"Hell yeah, got me out here crashing out over you little girl acting a damn fool, you gon gimme what's mines." His voice was low and rough, sending a wave of anxiety through me every time he spoke to me in that way.

It caused me to tilt my head at him a little bit while smirking at him, "give you what yours? Do you really deserve it Papa?" His hand gently encircled my throat, drawing me nearer to him.

"I fucking do deserve all of this, who do you take me for little girl?" He lifted me onto his shoulders before I had a chance to say anything, snatching my phone and purse in the process. With one hand, he opened the car door, all while carrying me toward the vehicle.

The people around us were staring at him as if he were crazy, but he paid no attention to their judgment. All that mattered to him was me. Once we reached the car, he opened the back door and climbed in, slamming it shut behind him. Thankfully, the tinted windows provided us with a little privacy, shielding us from prying eyes.

"Take this shit off now." He demanded as I looked at him like he was crazy.

"Are you fucking crazy? We are literally in the garage Joshua anyone could hear us." I said as he tilted his head at me while licking his lips.

"I don't give a damn take these fucking clothes off now, don't make me repeat myself again." I decided to challenge his patience as I reclined with my arms crossed, gazing intently at him. He chuckled softly, fully aware of his own sexual frustration, while I reveled in the playful mind games I was orchestrating.

He gave a single nod, and in that moment, I realized he was about to unleash his fury on me.

(SMUT WARNING)  -  CAR SEX MIYORI AND JEY Jey had Miyori locked in by his thighs as he was French kissing her pussy swirling his tongue around her clit causing her to squirm devouring her like his life depended on it knowing how badly his missed this he couldn't wait.

She was squirming all over the place trying to keep quiet so that no one could hear her soft moans coming out from her lips but Jey didn't like it not one bit he wanted to hear her moan his name.

"Let me hear you baby girl, don't hide those moans from me." He groaned out in the open gazing up at her.

He was pulling onto her folds slowly before going back inside lapping his tongue into her empty hole that was aching for his tongue to be on.

His tongue was perfectly darting and twirling around over her moist cunt hearing her soft moans that he loved to her from her pretty lips.

He was giving her slow, steady laps around her clit sucking her swollen clit off the bone causing her to pull back from him only for him to pull her right back in where he wanted her to be.

Miyori found herself clenching in and out every single time his tongue would touch her clit it was having on edge right now, she had her eyes rolling in the back of her head letting her body relax at his touch.

Jey slowly sticked two fingers inside her wet cunt curling them up just perfectly hitting her g-spot in every way he could causing her to clench around his fingers.

"Mhmm, keep doing that shit mamas."

"Josh...ouuu shit." Miyori moaned while gazing down at him seeing him go crazy on her clit.

His fingers were pumping in and out of her as she felt a deep pit go down her stomach but knowing how he was he wasn't going to let her cum not just yet.

That's when he pulled his fingers out of her causing her whine out of annoyance giving him a glare he knows how much she hates edging on. "Joshuaaa what the fuck." Jey had pulled her onto his lap stroking his dick up and down seeing pre-cum coming out from the tip.

"C'mon and ride this dick for me Ma." Jey said.

Miyori grabbed his thick length with her tiny hands as she stretched behind her, slowly placing him into her wet cunt, she gradually lowered herself onto him. Suddenly within in seconds he drove his cock within her  warmth, causing a soft moan to escape her lips.

"Mhmm, C'mon you got it mamas." Jey had wrapped his arms around her waist watching her slowly bounce on his dick up and down feeling his whole entire length stretch her out.

She wrapped her arms around his neck slamming her hips down on him moaning his name like no other.

"Joshuaa, fuckk." She moaned softly.

He placed his lips onto hers as they both began tongue kissing each other the kiss was nasty, and slow while her pussy was swallowing him whole letting their tongues fight it out for dominance.

Jey hands slither down onto her thick ass cheeks gripping on both of them guiding her movements while whacking one of her ass cheeks.

The car began to shake making squeaks here and there as she continued to throw her ass in circles on his thick cock it had her seeing stars at this point the way his dick was messing up her insides.

"Ouuu, dadddy, you've been working so hard for mama." She murmured between the kiss earning another slap on the ass.

Her hands tangled up into his curls yanking on them causing a groan to escape his lips knowing how badly he liked that shit from her.

"Hell yeah I'm doing this for you mamas, fuck this pussy is so good fo' me." He grips onto her ass cheeks so tightly feeling his nails digging into her ass continuing to guide her movements.

With every single push his dick was kissing her cervix so good to point where her milky substances started coating up his dick making it so easy for him just to slide in and out her like a water slide.

Miyori's thighs began burning at the sensation riding him harder as she pulled away from the kiss throwing her head back in pleasure letting him have access to her neck that was available trailing kisses down her jawline towards her neck sucking on it marking what belong to him in the first place.

"Daddy, ouuu, daddy."

"What's up ma? Daddy is right here baby girl, You love me huh?" He growled as she nodded her head knowing that she loved him deeply nobody else but him.

Jey had wrapped his strong arms around her keeping her in place so that she wouldn't go nowhere began thrusting his hips from the bottom.

Their bodies collided with each other hearing nothing but skins slapping against each other along with the windows fogging up she could write her name on it despite it being tinted. He felt her pussy clenching around him while she held onto him tightly sucking on his neck leaving traces of hickies on his neck.

Jey had her where she needed to be like always.

"Oh my Goddd, Joshuaaa you're fucking me so good." Miyori mewled out.

"Tell me that you love me ma, tell daddy that you belong to him and only him."

She couldn't even get the words out of her mouth by the way he was fucking her senselessly feeling the tip of his dick hit her soul so badly causing him to smirk at the sight of her. "Got nothing to say huh? This dick got you looking stupid huh mamas?" He was talking his shit while being deep and deep inside of her.

His hips continuously hit her g-spot sharper and deeper as she let out a cry while her orgasm had washed over her feeling herself juices flowing out of her like a water fall along with her body shaking underneath him.

He was whispering nasty and vulgar words Into her ear praising her in every way he could to let it be known that she was his and he was hers nobody couldn't stop them from being together.

Miyori had tears falling down her eyes due the sensitivity that she was feeling at the moment after her intense orgasm that she just had while he was pounding deeply into her sensitive cunt continuously.

"T-too M-muchh, too F-fucking m-muchh." She whimpered as Jey kissed her on the cheek.

"Take this fucking dick like a big girl Ma, gimme yo' body mamas relax." He cooed at her.

"I-I C-can't.." Jey was losing himself being inside of her warmth with his strokes getting more sloppier and forceful by the second felt his dick twitching inside of her. "Fuck I'm finna nut, you gon' let me nut in you mamas?"

She managed to smirk gazing into his eyes, "do you think you deserve to nut in this pussy daddy?" She was testing his patience at this point he was done playing this game with her he knew where he stand with her.

He wrapped his hand around her throat fucking her insides relentlessly seeing her eyes roll in the back of her skull and the other hand gripping onto her ass.

"This my pussy right? Imma fucking nut in it whenever or wherever I fucking want Mimi you're mine." He growled.

He fucked her like no other person matters in the world not even Jaida he didn't care who heard them or who didn't it was just her and him together.

That's when he dipped his hips filling her to the brim with his warms seeds as he drained thick ropes after ropes inside of his nut buried deep inside of her, it almost felt like he was drowning in her. They both swallowed each other's moans.

He pulled out from her while holding her close to his body never letting her go as they stay like that for a moment catching each other's breaths.

SMUT OVER.

As I stepped back from him, our eyes locked, and I could sense the sincerity in his gaze about wanting to begin anew, free from any distractions. My fingers found their way into his hair, giving it a gentle tug as I leaned in, allowing our kiss to unfold softly and slowly.

As his hands glided over my curves, we became enveloped in a kiss that felt unlike any we had shared before. This moment was infused with deeper significance, as if he were searching for a piece of himself that he found in me.

"I missed you so much Ma, fuck." Jey murmured between the kiss.

"I missed you too baby." I murmured back.

He pressed against my back, drawing me nearer to him, holding on tightly. The cool breeze brushed against our skin, and in that moment, we felt an even deeper bond between us.

We gently separated, savoring the moment as I smiled at him, and he returned the gesture, proudly displaying his grills.

"You done playing this game or what? Because I fucking earned it." He says.

I gently held his chin, my thumb softly gliding over his cheek.  "what about Jaida? I need to know where she stands in all of this, if not then imma just have to keep playing this earning game with you." He rolled his eyes at me while smacking his lips.

"We are done me and her are over with after the day she slapped me I just knew where that relationship was heading I want you Mimi I fucking earned it." He leaned in forward placing a soft kiss on my lips.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "you sure? Because I don't need someone texting me saying "hey girly" like I'll be pissed."

"Yes I'm positive I didn't do all of this hard work and playing games with yo' ass just to do allat I want us to work it out together Mimi."

I enjoyed playing with him, knowing it would challenge his patience, even though he truly loves it and would go to great lengths for me. "I'll think about it." I teased hearing him sighing deeply as I chuckled at him. "I'm playing baby, I'm playing you know you got me wrapped around your fingers."

"Damn right I do, can I take you out tonight?" I immediately nodded my head to the idea.

IMPERFECT FOR YOU

uceyjucey, miyorisworld, jazzyV, jaidaparker_wwe, and others liked the post.

TheShadeRoom: Looks like Jey Uso and #MiyoriJordan are back together after posting each other on their stories what's next for them? Stay Tuned In. jaidaparker_wwe: stupid ass bitch imma get you next time hoe miyorisworld: @ jaidaparker_wwe: it won't be a next time hon im praying for you tho 🫶🏽 jazzyV: yessss they're finally back together usofan203: WE ARE SO UPPPP jeyusofannnz: good I'm glad I started to get bored of him and Jaida anyways romanreigns: finally knocked some sense into his head jonathanfatu: FINALLY DID HE GET U PREGNANT? uceyjucey: @ jonathanfatu don't pmo... trinity_fatu: let's keep it that way aaron_pierre1: what the actual fuck

Read all comments.

uceyjucey, jazzyV, jonathanfatu, and others liked your post.

miyorisworld: I got one up on you hoes 😘 uceyjucey: so fucking gorgeous mamas 😩😩 miyorisworld: @ uceyjucey all yours Papa 💋 trinity_fatu: so beautiful girl jonathanfatu: did he get you knocked up? miyorisworld: @ trinity_fatu come get yo damn husband like neow aaron_pierre1: you can't be serious right? he'll just cheat on you again uceyjucey: @ aaron_pierre1 why you worrying bout it? She ain't with you she's with me now jaidaparker_wwe: she doesn't have shit on me miyorisworld: @ jaidaparker_wwe: apparently i do hon jazzyV: PERIOD rikishi: my daughter in law ❤️ miyorisworld: @ rikishi heyyy pops 🫶🏽

A/n: the drama between the exes are getting more interesting yall think something is going to happen between Jey and Aaron?

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below ⬇️

STAY UCEY.

[touristbree]

🔎Legends ZA Trailer 1 Analysis🔎

We finally have a trailer for Pokemon Legends: ZA, and I am absolutely hyped for the game! Kalos was my first region and it’ll be fun to go back to it in such a creative way. We don’t know much, but we do have plenty to examine from the trailer and accompanying advertising.

Everything below is spoilers for today’s present.

The Setting

[ID: First Image shows a Bunnelby and fletchling running down a street in Lumiose that’s been overgrown with plants. “The Wild Zone” is named in the image.

Second: The player character running down a similarly abandoned street, there’s a car left behind and more plants around]

It’s interesting that one of the wild zones looks like an abandoned street in Lumiose city, the stores are still intact and there’s an entire car left behind, implying that this was a recent change. Wild zones are clearly very new editions and I wonder how much of the city was set aside for them, and what happened to the people who lived and worked in those areas.

[ID: An overview of as street covered in black and blue, futuristic scaffolding over very old looking buildings]

I noticed some construction scaffolding in the background and I have two theories about them:

1. Decoration: The scaffolding is just there for decorations in one part of the map to make it look like it’s actively under construction and provide more interesting spaces for battles.

2. Changing Map: Over the course of the game's story, scaffolding will appear over old buildings, cover them up, and then they get removed to reveal new buildings.The city evolves over the course of the story… but is that a good or bad thing?

Quasartico Inc.

[ID: a large modern looking building with the Quasartico logo on it]

We get introduced to Quasartico Inc. and it’s CEO Jett, and everyone is in agreement that she is the villain of this new game. We don’t know her plans, but we know she wants to modernize Lumiose City, we see a lot of construction at one point and an abandoned street in another, this bitch is gentrifying this city.

In the trailer we get a look at AZ’s hotel, it’s an old building that I think will be under the threat of being demolished to make way for a new modern building. My only reason behind this is that AZ is living his best life with his Floette and that the player living there makes it an emotionally important location, threatening it would establish Quasartico as a major villain in the game.

[ID: A comparison between the Looker Bureau im the trailer and in XY. Same being walls and tiled floors, the kitchen is more detailed in the trailer, there’s a board on the wall with notes about the city and papers and a laptop on the desk]

We also know that someone is keeping an eye on them, we get a quick glimpse at the Looker Bureau office from the postgame of XY. In the background there’s a board covered with notes and a map of the city meaning whoever is living here is keeping an eye on all the urbanization. When I first saw the trailer, I thought it had to be Emma from the XY postgame, but examining it a little closer I’m not as certain; Looking closely I noticed the picture of an Espurr on the desk, clearly meant to be Emma’s friend “Mimi”. The fact she’s in a framed picture gives me 4 theories:

1. Mimi died and this picture is in her memory, Emma is still at the Looker Bureau.

2. Looker is in the Bureau again and the picture is a reminder of Emma and Mimi.

3. Theory 1 but Looker has the picture.

4. I’m overthinking this, Mimi is fine and Emma just has a picture of her pet.

Conclusion

This game is looking amazing and it’s getting all the time it needs to marinate, I can’t wait to see who makes an appearance and I can’t wait to be introduced to the new cast of characters.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Lucifer: Uhhh, sure I guess.

He sat down next to him.

Adam: (sighs) What I wish to discuss with you…it’s about…our partnership. With our businesses.

Lucifer shrugs: Ok, what about it?

Adam: I, I think we should end it.

Lucifer: Now, now hold on Adam is this because I’ve taken to skipping a few rounds with you in the sack just because I’m busy. Babe you know that ain’t fair.

Adam: No, it’s not about that.

Lucifer: Well then let me show you a good time tonight.

Adam: Please Lucifer just let me speak-

The shorter man got in front of the taller and pulled his knees apart. Forcing his legs opened.

Lucifer: Cmon my bitch let daddy take care of you~

Adam bit his lips and blushed, that did sound quite nice-

No. Don’t be weak Adam.

Adam gets up and walks over to a desk: That’s a nice gesture but I have already made up my mind.

Now Lucifer was starting to get desperate, he resorted to something he never thought would happen, begging.

Lucifer: Adam please! Being partners with has helped my company in more ways than one. After so many years, so many fucking damn years of work my company is finally being lifted off the ground. I…I can’t afford to lose that, lose this…please Adam I’ll do anything

Adam turned around and handed him a holder: This right here is a list of the top companies that would benefit your company the most. All you have to do is convince them, which won’t be too hard since I already put in a good word for you.

Lucifer stared in confusion at the papers inside. Including one transcript and receipt of over fifty thousand dollars put into Morningstar CO!

Lucifer: Adam what…what is all this?

Adam: Lucifer the reason I am giving you this is because I care so much about you. These past six months have been some of the happiest I’ve ever been. But…this transaction, what we have now? It isn’t right. It probably never was, and so I…I’m giving you an out Lucifer.

Lucifer: …what?

Adam: I want you to be happy Lucifer and you can’t do that if you’re tethered to someone who doesn’t do that. I know what that’s like, and I would never force it upon another.

Lucifer’s heart kept speeding up with each second. Why was Adam doing this?

Adam: But…if it were possible I would love it if we still saw each other. Doesn’t have to be for just sex in fact this way maybe we can get to know each other? Truly know each other.

Lucifer: …OH! I get it now! This is a weird new role play!

Adam stood in disbelief as Lucifer got into an act of dramatically proclaiming his love to him. That hurt him in ways he didn’t know were possible.

The light in his life

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Adam groaned as he finally woke up from another barely restful sleep. He sat up and ran a hand through his short, chocolate locks tiredly before sitting up and getting out of bed. His mind and body went into autopilot as he took a shower, cleaned his face and teeth, and took his medication before finally donning a robe and heading downstairs to get some breakfast.

He automatically grimaced as he heard his wife's laughter before he even entered the kitchen. He saw Lilith pacing as he animatedly talked to a friend on the phone. However, her face stained when she noticed his presence.

She turned her back on him and continued her chat. Adam felt his irritation stir within him as he grabbed a mug and poured some coffee in it.

Abel: Morning Dad!

His lips pulled upwards at the sound of his seventeen-year-old. He turned around and saw his son eating on the marble counter. His smile doubled as soon as he saw Abel's.

Adam: Morning bud.

He went to sit down next to him and try to enjoy his morning with his son. Keyword, tried. He was just about to read the paper when he was barraged by Lilith.

Lilith: Well, I'm off I'll be gone for the majority of the day, but I'll be back here around four thirty or so to pick you up. When I get back, I want you both in your suits got that?

Abel: Yes mom.

Abel replied before going back to his breakfast. Adam sat there confused, however, picking him up and Abel to where?

Adam: Um Lilith where we are going tonight?

Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily: Adam I thought I told you this already. Tonight is the company party.

Adam: No, that's not right the company's anniversary isn't until a few months from now.

She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms: No, this is the anniversary of when your parents' company and my parent's company merged. Don't you remember? Because before that little contract was sealed another contract was sealed between us.

Adam knew exactly what she was getting into, she was talking about their marriage. About seventeen years ago Lilith's parents were having a rough patch with their own company. Even if their business was still lucritive in certain areas.

They decided to get help from Adam's parents, and they said that they could simply merge their companies as one. That way they would all still have rights to them as one day their children would too.

However, there was only one way for a merge such as this to happen. One minute Adam was being introduced to a beautiful girl the next he was standing at the altar saying I do. What made it even worse was that they were only eighteen at the time.

No, the worst possible outcome is being married to this beautiful yet cynical creature. At least there was one small yet noticeable light that came from this, Abel.

Adam was pulled out of his thoughts by his wife snapping her sharp, well-manicured fingers in his face.

Lilith: Ahem, as I was saying since this is our "family" company party Jr. is allowed to attend. But I want you to make sure he stays on his best behavior for the ENTIRE evening. Is that clear?

Adam: Crystal.

Lilith: Good, then I'm off.

Adam's hardened gaze followed her retreating form as she left. Not even bothering to at least say goodbye to their son. Adam started to take in big gulps of his drink, trying to ready himself for the day.

--

Adam downed yet another glass of champagne trying to keep himself busy as he watched the guests mingle about. Abel was not that far away talking to a few of the employees' children. Though Abel tended to be on the shyer side his friendly character always brought others to him.

Adam: (mutters) At least you're having a good time.

The sound of a familiar voice drew Adam's attention to Lilith.

Adam: (mutters): And so are you.

She wasn't that far from him yet didn't take any note or acknowledgment of him there. Or maybe she did, and she simply didn't care. Adam however did take notice in the topic she and her friends were discussing.

Him.

Despite everything in him screaming to walk away he got a little closer to them and listened closely.

Stella: So, tell me darling what is he like in bed? Is he at least desirable then?

Lilith: Ugh, don't make me laugh he is HORRENDOUS under the sheets. It's like he has no idea what to even do with it. And it was one thing back before he started taking those damn happy pills. Because at least then he wasn't bad to look at. Now every single time I have to lay with him it's like a walrus is trying to squash me!

Her friend let out a haughty laugh: Oh, I can't even imagine the horror of that brute naked let alone actually bedding someone.

Lilith: What makes it worse is that he practically has breasts now. Breasts Stella! But that's not even the absolute most dreadful part of being married to him.

Stella: Oh? What is then?

Lilith: I have to do all the work! I run his company; I run the house, and he even wants me to run him ragged in the sheets!

Stell: (gasps) You're not suggesting-

Lilith: Yup! From the very beginning, he had me do all the work while he lay there on his back like a log. A true bore and pathetic excuse for a human being. I'm glad I only had to birth one child so I could stop pretending to want to bed him.

The rest of the conversation was drowned out as stared down at himself. A hand going to his extended waistline and grimacing. He really had let himself go hadn't he?

Retracting the hand back he used it to scrub over his face in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing. Instead, he decided to find something stronger than champagne to drown himself in.

[bunnivez]

AHHHHH FINALLY!! ok my excitement aside, imagine wonyoung fooling around with one of those omega escorts. she needs to relieve some stress after all that fighting, yk…just like her uncle said..

All the killing, the blood, the look of fear; it can get addictive, like a drug. Once you do it it’s hard to stop or difficult to go back to feeling normal. A distraction is needed; anything. Go out to eat, work on a hobby, sex.

“You’re such a pretty little thing” She smirked at the way you blushed. Oh, how she loved the way omegas blushed so easily, how sweet their scent was, how soft they felt. More specifically, however, she liked you. The way you looked up at her with those eyes, the sweet shape of your lips, your hair. She felt some form of attraction towards you, but why?: perhaps it was the sex.

You huffed and crossed your arms, “Shut up. You needed me and I’m here, what is it this time?” This wasn’t the first time she had paid for your services, most of the time it was after killing someone who hadn’t paid their debt or crossed her, and if it wasn’t obvious, the smell of blood on her gave it away.

“Don’t act stupid (Y/n), you’re a smart girl I’m sure you’ve already figured it out by now— It’s not like this is a first-time thing,” Wonyoung smirked before drinking her liquor in one go and settling the glass down. “Besides, don’t act annoyed when you and I both know how much you like spending time with me.” She added with a husky voice.

It irritated you how right she was, yet you never admitted it. Why would you want to spend time with an idiot like Wonyoung? Sure, she was every omega’s dream alpha, strong, rich, and incredibly hot. However, admitting such things would be a weakness— and no way in hell would feed her ego.

She likes it though, she likes the way you don’t submit so easily. It’s what makes you different from the rest of the omegas; it’s what makes you even more desirable to her.

“Shut up… They didn’t pay their debt?” You asked and watched the way she sighed and ran a hand through her silky dark hair, “No. That son of a bitch kept on begging for more days, how the hell is he going to pay me back when he spends all his money on drugs and alcohol? So I solved things for him and. Well, you can guess what happened. He doesn’t have to worry about debt now if you know what I mean.” She cracked a small smirk.

“I’m surprised you decided to meet up here. You stink, I’m sure everyone here can smell the blood on you,” Everyone around you two tensed, making sure to keep a distance, “Your place should’ve been a better choice.”

“Oh? And then what? Fuck? How naughty of you (Y/n).” She teased, “Seriously though, who cares about the rest? What are they gonna do besides hide in a corner or something.” She lights up a cigarette and takes a drag out of it, a puff of smoke comes out.

“You act as if fucking wasn’t your idea. This isn’t the first time you’ve paid for my company, I must be your favorite huh?” You teased which made her chuckle lowly. “Don’t get too cocky.”

There was a sudden silence between you two, but there was this sexual tension that wouldn’t leave. You didn’t even have to look at her to know that she was staring at you as you took a sip of your drink. It’s not uncommon for these things to happen yet somehow you always crave the feeling of her hands roaming around your body.

Honestly, she could just not pay for your services and you’d still come to her. You didn’t even know anymore. Is it love that you feel for her or is it simply the sex you like? Even if you have fallen in love with the alpha; it is clear she isn’t looking for commitment and you can’t risk having a broken heart.

“Let's go to the restroom.” “Huh?” You snapped back to reality, looking at her and realizing the way her eyes had slightly darkened.

“I said lets go to the restroom.” “I don’t need to use it though—” She didn’t even let you finish your sentence, instead she grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you.

Thank heavens the restroom was empty, thank heavens the music was loud enough to cover up your noises, you’d die of embarrassment if anyone found out the state you are in.

Who in their right mind would think of fucking in a public restroom? There are so many better options, Wonyoung really couldn’t wait huh?

You felt her hand cover your mouth as the other gripped the fat of your hip. Your cries of pleasure were muffled as your legs shook intensely. Your brain couldn’t process anything else other than the great pleasure she’s giving you, was she even trying to hide her noises? You could hear her constant groans and occasional growl as she picked up the pace.

“Oh fuck yes… ah.. you like how that feels don’t you, you little slut? Oh shit— look at the way you’re drooling on my hand,” She kept on saying things into your ear, things that should embarrass you but they don’t. You should be ashamed, not bending over and moaning for the tall woman behind you.

Crap, you could feel your arms weaken, they felt like noodles as you placed them against the stall’s door for support. It probably won’t be long before you fall face fir—

“Is someone here- uh…” You froze. Is someone here!? How!? You didn’t even hear the door open! Yet the person didn’t last long, they could smell the pheromones that filled the room, it was enough to let them know what was happening, “O-OH! I’M SORRY!” They quickly left.

“Fucking moron..” You heard Wonyoung grunt and bite on your exposed shoulder— at the same time, she thrusted deep inside making you almost scream against her hand. She knew where to hit, what spot makes you cry, curl, shake. You felt her so deep inside you.

Her skin hitting yours made a loud sound, the hand that was previously gripping your hip now held your thigh and lifted your leg to thrust deeper. She felt so good, her tip right against your womb, filling you so good as you squeezed around her.

So close, you’re so close. Soon you’ll feel that pleasurable knot burst- “It feels good huh? Agh~ fuck… ngh, can’t even lower your damn voice, that g-good huh, you fucking slut~”

Everything was ruined when she pulled out all of a sudden, uncovering your mouth and zipping her pants back up. What the hell is she doing? Was she planning on leaving you like this!?

“Put your clothes back on, we’ll finish at my place; I am not done with you yet, baby.” She whispered in your ear before biting your earlobe. Yeah, you officially fucking hate her.

⟢ 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐳 ᵎᵎ — do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt any of my works without my permission and or confirmation.

[secretlovesoftheheart]

oops Mouthwashing incorrect quotes part 2 I have no self control

Anya: The results are in, I’m afraid you have updog… Jimmy: What’s updog? Anya: Daisuke! Get in here, I told you I could do it!

Curly: We’ve found the person who stole your identity and was impersonating you. Jimmy: Where were they? Curly: Eating cheetos and crying in their car. Jimmy, impressed: Damn, they really went for it.

Daisuke: If I run and leap at Swansea, he will most certainly catch me in their arms. Daisuke, running towards Swansea: Coming in! Swansea: No! I’m holding coffee! Swansea: Drops coffee and catches Daisuke

Jimmy: I WOULD DESTROY THE WORLD FOR YOU! Curly: Okay, can you do the dishes? Jimmy: No!

Police Officer: You have the right to remain silent. Jimmy: I choose to waive that right! Jimmy: screaming

Curly: Do you take constructive criticism? Jimmy: No, only cash or credit.

Curly: What do we say when life disappoints us? Anya: Called it! Curly: No.

Anya: You’re not ascending to godhood, you’re just dehydrated. Curly: Outta my way, gaygirl! I’m about to liberate myself from this mortal shell! later Curly, texting Anya: hopital

Anya: Whoa, Jimmy, what’s up with that angry face? Jimmy: Daisuke won’t stop talking about how “Ancient Egyptians were furries”. Daisuke: But they were! Just looks at all their gods- Jimmy: Oh my god, SHUT UP!

Curly: What is the one thing I told you not to do? Jimmy: Burn the house down. Curly: And what did you do? Jimmy: I made dinner. Curly: Jimmy: Curly: Jimmy: And burnt the house down.

Jimmy, holding a toy lightsaber: I’m Darth Vader! Swansea: I’m done with everyone’s bullshit.

Jimmy: Wow, they really hate us. Curly: Yes, perhaps they’re homophobic. Jimmy: But we’re not gay, Curly. Curly: Jimmy: Curly: We’re not?

Curly: Oh man, you have any shaving cream? Daisuke: No, I don't like the way that it tastes. Curly: Wait… you eat shaving cream? Daisuke: No. Why would I eat it if I don't like the taste.

Swansea: A sprite is anything not static. Daisuke: A sprite is a variable object, be it 2d or 3d. Curly: A sprite is a fucking soda. Curly: You god damn geekass bastards.

Anya: Coca Cola can remove rust from metal, imagine what it’s doing to your body. Daisuke: Pfff, getting rid of the rust, idiot. Anya: THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS! Swansea: Hmm… I've been drinking soda and my body's rust free… not sure where you're getting your facts from…

Curly: Are you alright? Anya: Short answer or long answer? Curly: Short? Anya: No. Curly: Long? Anya: Nooooooo.

Jimmy: You have Crayons? Daisuke: Yes, I have— Jimmy: You're— how old are you? Daisuke: YES I AM AN ADULT AND I HAVE CRAYONS, I HAVE A BOX OF EMERGENCY CRAYONS IN THE CABINET UNDER THE TV BECAUSE EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS SOMETIMES, OKAY? EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS.

Daisuke: That sounds super! Doesn’t that sound super, Swansea? Swansea: No. Daisuke: I think I speak for Swansea when I say it sounds really super.

Swansea: What the hell is wrong with you? Jimmy: I have this weird self-esteem issue where I hate myself but still think I’m better than everyone else.

Daisuke: Wow, this parking is as straight as I am. Jimmy: I know I should be focused on the fact that you just came out, but HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY PARKING!

Jimmy: I feel awful about killing you. Curly: Jimmy: Even though technically you never even died, so I don’t know what you’re bitching about.

Daisuke: I have a bad feeling about this… Jimmy: What do you mean? Daisuke: Don't you ever get that little voice in your head that tells you if you're going to get into trouble? Jimmy: No? Swansea: That actually explains so much.

Daisuke: How are you so calm?! Anya: I’ve passed beyond “stressed”, beyond “hysteria”, into the gray misty indifference of complete shutdown of all but emergency services in my brain.

Curly: Jimmy's first detention, I'm so proud. Anya: Whoa, back up. Why did they get detention? Swansea: Because they're an idiot. Daisuke, terrified: They can do that??

Anya, Entering Curly's room: Jimmy did it again. Curly: Peace disturbance? Anya: What no- Curly: Arson..? Anya: NO, JESUS CHRIST, HOW MANY- Curly: uh….Attempted murder? Anya: NO, HE ATE ALL THE FOOD IN THE FRIDGE, BUT WHAT THE FU-

Curly: Can you please just apologize to Anya? Jimmy: Fine, but I have to warn you that this may make me a nicer, better person and that is not who you feel in love with.

Swansea: Where’s Daisuke? Jimmy: Around. Swansea: Around? Swansea: You don’t have any idea, do you? Daisuke, dropping down from above: Did you know there’s a space above the ceiling?

Daisuke: Adulting is hard. Daisuke: How do I quit? Swansea: Time travel. Jimmy: Die.

Swansea: Daisuke, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean? Daisuke: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later. Swansea: Alright, I love you too, I'll ask Anya. Daisuke: Wait- Swansea, no-

Swansea: Can you keep a secret? Anya: Do you know anything about my life? Swansea: No, I don't. Good point.

Jimmy: Punch me in the face. Swansea: …Punch you? Jimmy: Yes, punch me, didn’t you hear me? Swansea: I always hear ‘punch me in the face’ while you’re speaking but it’s usually just subtext.

Swansea: All of your existences are confusing. The Squad: How so? Swansea: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me.

Daisuke: shoves their hand in the slot of a toaster Swansea: … Daisuke: …I get confused sometimes. Swansea: Me too.

Curly: What’s something you guys are better than Jimmy at? Daisuke: Mario Kart. Anya: Yeah, video games. Swansea: Emotional vulnerability.

Jimmy: Just trust me. Have I ever put you in an unsafe or uncomfortable situation? Anya: All the time. Jimmy: Then you should be used to it by now.

Jimmy: Be careful, I thrive on negative attention.

Curly: Look, Anya, it's the third time this week you had a mental breakdown and its Monday.

Jimmy: Would I rather be feared or loved? Easy. Both. I want people to fear how much they love me.

Daisuke: I’ve never smoked marijuana. I ate a brownie once at a party. It was intense. It was kind of indescribable. I felt like I was floating. Turns out there was no pot in the brownie. It was just an insanely good brownie.

Swansea: I would never say that my partner is a bitch and I don’t don’t like them. That’s not true… My partner is a bitch and I like them so much!

Jimmy: Things will get better! The Squad: Jimmy: Okay, maybe they won’t. Jimmy: But they will be terrible in new and interesting ways!