#she can play a harp too

[maremortus]

[invinciblerodent]

*logs into game*

*smooches boyfriend to see if the new hotfix makes the animation work for the shorter characters now (it doesn't)*

*tests it another 3-6 times to make sure*

*logs out*

[yvmoveon]

.

[worldsover]

An Unusual Coverage ft. Heejin

6.8k words

Your girlfriend Heejin is DONE with not using condoms—wait a second... not?

Heejin’s lips on yours mean this is a good day, even if there’s a pout on them that you can taste. She had a bad day at work so that one kiss to cheer her up leads to two cups of lukewarm tea on the coffee table before you. You run your hands over her bared waist, tank top riding up her torso, as her body rubs up against you. Between deep kisses where Heejin’s tongue swirls against yours, and the wet spot growing on her panties, you think you know where this is going.

After pulling away when her teeth sink into your bottom lip, you say, "Needy girl. I know what’ll make you feel better, a load inside you."

But how can you predict Heejin? She hesitates; you've never seen that. "Y-you’re right, it does… but that’s not what I want right now."

Perplexed, you pause your ministrations, hands stilling on her waist. "You don’t?"

Heejin's eyes widen and she rushes to reassure you. "No, no, I do, I do." Soft kisses. "You know what a cum slut I am, Daddy. Come here, let me feel you. Mmh." This kiss isn’t as soft, not when her hand goes for your hardening bulge.

You kiss her back hungrily, your desire reigniting, but pull back when she still seems hesitant. "But what?"

"Another time..." Heejin looks away shyly. This is the cutest girl on earth, you reckon, but dishonest, not so shy when her digits are still pants-bound.

You give a singular laugh-scoff. "Really? I'm just surprised, you've never turned down a creampie before."

She sighs. "You're gonna harp on this? Alright, I get it." Heejin sits up straight, patting her thighs. "Sit up, let me get on my favorite seat."

You smile as you comply, shifting positions so she can straddle you properly. Heejin cups your face. "I want your cum," she says, her voice dropping to a needy whisper. "Of course I want your cum."

Whatever the conversation was, is, or will be, your hands are directed towards her tits by natural intervention, taking inventory and stock of the perfect perky shape over the thin fabric of her top.

"God, squeeze my tits, yes, they’re yours, play with them. Fuck, what was I saying?" Her moans become more and more wanton as you knead and tease her nipples. "Mm, right, your cum. You give me so much of it. It’s so hot, three, four loads every time we fuck—"

"Yeah, you’re fucking Heejin, have you looked in a mirror? I could give you the world."

"No, you’re the one fucking Neejinie,” she says, laughing, and you laugh too, giving her a peck on the forehead as her head falls into your neck. "You’re the sweetest, Daddy." She looks back up, steeling herself into something serious, even when it’s never that serious. "But… I need more cum."

You raise an eyebrow. "So you wanna kill me then."

"A little bit." She giggles. "I just... I want to be absolutely filthy with your cum. Utterly covered and filled by it until I'm dripping everywhere. All my holes, every inch of my skin." Heejin leans in close, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, "I want you to make me look like a used cum rag, while I fingerfuck your seed into my pussy."

Your mouth goes dry at Heejin's filthy words, cock straining against your pants. "Need it that bad?" you rasp.

"Mhm, that bad." Heejin purrs. She leans back and rummages in her purse, pulling out a strip of condoms with a sly grin.

"Condoms?" Haven't used those in a long time.

"Yes, Daddy,” she says, her face all serious again. "Pants off. Now."

You quickly comply, shucking off your pants and boxers as Heejin strips out of her clothes. There’s always going to be a little drool, a little open jaw when you witness her adorable tits ever so slightly recoiling as she tugs off her tanktop, or witness her underwear ever so slightly sticking to her pussy as she slides them down her legs, or witness the overall damn-near hourglass figure of the most beautiful woman you've ever laid your eyes upon.

Now on her knees, Heejin tears open a condom wrapper with her teeth, and she's still an expert at rolling it down your shaft with her mouth, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks you. Electric pleasure zings through you as she takes extracurricular kittenish licks, slathering her saliva and tongue all over your latex-covered cock. It's a surprisingly colorful blue. When she pulls off with a pop, a string of spit connects her lips to the tip.

"You remember how to do that?"

She huffs indignantly. "Yeah, Daddy, I think I’ve had more than enough practice with your pretty cock." Heejin gives it a few pecks, eyes filled with love, then starts suckling on the tip. Before you can stop her, her head is bobbing up and down your length.

Your hands tangle in Heejin's hair as she works your cock, her tongue swirling expertly around the latex-covered shaft. With a groan, you gently pull her off before things escalate too quickly. "Easy there, needy girl," you tease. "I thought you wanted me to fuck you?"

"Huh? Oh." Heejin blushes, realizing she got carried away worshipping your cock as she is wont to do. "Right. Y-you should do that. Fuck me. Now."

With your fingers still in her hair, you get up and guide Heejin to lie back on the couch. While you can appreciate every position—doggystyle lets you spank Heejin’s round ass; cowgirl turns her an insatiable wildcat riding you with abandon—there’s something intimate about missionary, the way you can watch expressions flicker across her face. As you position above her, her arms wrap around your neck and pull you in the way that every component of Heejin feels like an inescapable event horizon. Her eyes are glassy with lust, yet there's a sincerity in them that roots you to the moment more than any physical sensation ever could.

"Make me forget everything, Daddy," she murmurs. "Fuck the thoughts out of my head. I only wanna think about your cock."

"With pleasure," you murmur, kissing her deeply. Your cock slides easily between her folds; the girl is always ready for you. "You’re so fucking wet. What an eager slut."

"F-for your cock," Heejin gasps as you push in, her pussy squeezing tight around your shaft, and the condom isn't doing much for your stamina with how good this girl feels around you, a feeling that you've missed ever since she let you raw-dog. "God, it's so fucking big, it always stretches me out so good," she babbles. As much as you love the deep sound of her voice, her talking dirty like that will expedite the moment too much for you, so you kiss her to shut her up. It doesn’t work.

Heejin moans into the kiss, wrapping her arms around you and holding you close, her body moving in time with yours. "So perfect, Daddy, so perfect. Promise me, promise me that from now on every time you get hard for me, you'll fuck one of my holes and give me your cum."

You don't understand how you'll do that with a condom. But, "I promise," you reply, breathless, and Heejin rewards you by pulling you in for another hungry kiss."I'll give you my cum whenever, wherever you want it."

"Good," she says, your cock sliding in and out. "Let's use condoms from now on, okay?"

You pull back. "What? I thought you liked it better when I fill you up, baby? You've always been such a cum hungry slut." Your hands roam down to her tits and play with her sensitive nipples, making Heejin gasp and arch her back.

"Nngh, I'm still going to collect your cum, Daddy."

You stop entirely, even though Heejin bucks her hips to grind on you. "What?"

She giggles. "I want you to fuck me, fill up the condom, then toss it onto me." The image that forms in your head makes you dizzy. "Is it just me, or does that turn you on?"

"God," you groan, snapping back into motion. "That's pretty tempting."

"Good." Heejin moans, holding onto your arm as you ram into her. "Anywhere, my tits, my ass, my thighs, my face. Like I'm just your cum dumpster"

You're pounding her hard, now, the couch creaking in protest. Your hand's in her hair. Your hand's around her neck. Your hand's groping her tits. You're a fucking caveman, who needs to feel every part of Heejin, every part of this woman who loves you so much that she'll let you treat her like a filthy cum rag.

"Please, Daddy," she begs, her voice rising to a high pitch. "I'm close. Cum in me. Fill me up with your cum." You can tell she’s close, her walls convulsing around your shaft, her eyes glazed over, her hands gripping the couch cushions for dear life.

"I'm gonna cum," you growl, fucking her harder and faster, the tip of your cock kissing her cervix. "I'm gonna fill you up."

The condom does little to dull the sensations of her tight pussy squeezing around you as she cums, and it's only a matter of time until you cum after, filling the condom to the brim. As you gingerly unsheathe your shaft, Heejin's hand darts out and snaps it off your cock, and she giggles at the weight of it and tosses it between her tits; it looks like it's meant to be there as if all the lingerie in the world could never compare to the sight of a well-filled condom. You lean down and kiss Heejin, your hand stroking her face tenderly.

"Fuck, I love you," you breathe.

"I love you too," she replies, and Heejin's smile is more innocent than anything you've seen today. Reaching for your shaft, she teases, "You have another load to give me, right?"

"Always," you growl, and after she fits another condom over your cock (you note this one's red), you plunge inside, and Heejin's moans fill the air once more. As you pound into Heejin's tight pussy, the filled condom on her tits starts leaking and dribbling down her body, coating her skin with your thick cream, and the sight of her covered in your cum is so hot you can't help but fuck her even harder. Heejin is incoherent, babbling nonsense, and you kiss her neck as you whisper, "You're so hot, Heejin."

"Your cum, your cum," Heejin chants, her hands groping at your back, her hips grinding up into yours. "Give me, give me. Use me. Use my pussy." She's drooling now, eyes rolled back, and you're not far from it either.

This round is shorter, and the two of you are too busy kissing to notice you've reached your limit until you're cumming into the condom, and you both gasp in surprise. You pull out, and Heejin's eyes glint with the same mischief as you hear the snapping sound. Then, the condom is tossed onto her stomach, and she sighs happily at her burgeoning collection.

You kiss and caress each other for a few minutes. "That was amazing," you finally say, your thumb brushing Heejin's cheek.

She looks beautiful, her face flushed and her hair messy. Two used condoms adorn her body like trophies; she ties off both of them.

"Wow. You like it that much, huh?" You chuckle. You've never had a girl this kinky, and it's a good thing that she's your one and only.

"Of course I do. That wasn't just dirty talk, silly," she laughs. "You should go to bed, Daddy. You'll be busy tomorrow, what with all the condoms you'll be filling for me."

***

"That was a crazy night, wasn't it?" you say, as you and Heejin walk to the car.

"Hah! Yeah, it was," Heejin giggles, squeezing your hand. You've been dating for three years, now, but you still blush when you hold hands with her. She's just too cute. "It was fun, though."

"Definitely." You unlock the car, and Heejin hops in the passenger seat.

As you slide in, Heejin says, "I'm so glad I got to try that out. But anyway...." Her tone sounds like she’s dropping the subject, so you move on.

You're in her workplace's parking lot, opening the door for her. "Hopefully, work's better."

She steps out of the car, and you swiftly give her a cheeky cheek kiss. "Thank you." While getting out, she drops her purse on the floor.

"Whoa, careful." You laugh, reaching down to get her purse.

When you get up, you notice her panties hanging on the strap. Two cum-filled condoms are tied off and dangling from the band, swaying in the breeze.

You blink. "Uh... Heejin?"

She smirks. "I told you. It wasn't just dirty talk."

***

This is the second time you've seen the women's bathroom inside Heejin's workplace. The first, of course, is when you railed Heejin over the sink and added three new trophies (as she calls them). You can tell she's put a lot of thought into this, each new condom a new color. It's starting to become a cream-filled rainbow. The second time is in these pictures, of her touching herself inside a stall, filthy jewelry around her waist, and it's making the grueling late night at your own office a little bit more exciting. The last picture of her pussy is dripping with her wetness and your seed; she texted to tell you that she couldn't help herself from opening a condom and using the cum to lube herself as she masturbated. "I couldn't help myself. I needed to get more of your seed inside me, Daddy."

"Stop teasing," you text back. "Or I'm gonna end up having to jack off at work, and only horny weirdos jack off at work."

"Hey! Meanie!" Her reply comes instantly. "But you're right. Don't waste a drop, or I'll be disappointed. I want as many loads as possible."

You sigh and go back to work, the ache in your cock making it difficult to focus.

After an hour and re-sobered mind, a knock on your office door. You sigh. You thought you were the last person left here, and you don't want any more tasks to do.

Your smile when you open the door. "Baby?"

Heejin's standing outside, holding two takeout boxes and looking at you with those big eyes of hers. She's in her work clothes, and while her blouse is not as revealing as the tanktop she'd worn yesterday, her skirt still does wonders for her legs. Of course, you know what's underneath the skirt, and your cock twitches. Down boy. Heejin's carrying food, and she'll get upset if you don't let her feed you. "Hi! I got us some food. I figured you might not have eaten, so..."

"How can I love you anymore than I already do?" You laugh, taking the food from her and setting it down on the table. "I was just about to wrap up, actually, so we can eat together. Come in, come in."

Heejin smiles sweetly, stepping past the threshold, and shutting the door. "Actually, I have another surprise for you, first." Her voice is low and sultry.

"Of course. You and your ulterior motives." You raise your eyebrows, and Heejin laughs.

"Guilty," she giggles, stepping closer and closer to you until she can wrap her arms around your neck. "You know what I want, don't you?"

You chuckle. "I'd be an idiot if I didn't."

"Did you know..." She pulls out one of the condoms from under her skirt. "I kept this one in my purse for emergencies? And whenever I miss you, and miss your cock, I just pick it up and..." She leans in, whispering in your ear. "I suck on it. I can still taste your cum and my juices from last night."

"You're so fucking dirty." You kiss her hard, pushing her against the wall. Her lips mold to yours as if they were made to, her tongue swirling against yours, and her teeth nibbling your lower lip.

"God, you're so hard," she whispers. "Lucky you have a slut right here to take care of it."

You pull back, and Heejin smirks at you, her fingers trailing down your chest to the bulge in your pants. She presses her palm against your cock, rubbing it, and you groan. She smiles wider.

"You still have work to do," she says. "Why don't you sit back down and finish up?"

"Tease," you mutter. Heejin laughs, and she kisses your forehead before pushing you back down into your chair. You look back at her expectantly and she just stares at you. "Really? You can wait."

"Mmm." Heejin motions toward your computer. "I'll be fine."

You shake your head. "Alright. If you say so." Trying your best to clear your mind of the gorgeous girl in front of you, you turn back to your computer and start to type.

It takes you a few minutes to focus, and just when you're getting in the groove of things, you feel Heejin's hand on your thigh. You look down, and she's kneeling in between your legs, looking up at you with her big brown eyes, her hand on your thigh inching upward. There it is. You knew this girl couldn't hold back. "I've been thinking," she purrs.

You gulp. "About?"

Her hand reaches your belt, and her fingers deftly undo the buckle. "About sucking you off under this desk, since I am your cum whore," she says matter-of-factly, as if she's discussing the weather.

"Yeah, you are." You lean back and place your hands behind your head, but then Heejin tuts at you.

"Daddy, you should really focus on your work."

You laugh, but comply, returning your attention to the screen. "Okay, okay. Do whatever you want."

Heejin unzips your pants and pulls your cock out of the slit of your boxers, and you can feel the ghost of her breath against your skin, making it twitch. "You're already so hard," she says. The temptation to touch her, to stroke her hair, to grab each side of her head and skull fuck her ethereal face, is overwhelming. "It's already leaking and everything. I'm going to miss feeling how your cum fills my throat. But... I'll make do."

Heejin is the devil, pretending she's an angel while saying that, licking that leaking cockhead. She pulls out another fresh condom from her bag; tearing it open, it’s a pretty green color. You try to keep your composure as Heejin rolls the green condom onto your cock with her mouth, slow, steady, torturous. The devil, already killing you, is trying to send you to heavenly hell. When the condom is snug on your shaft, she gags as she goes another inch deeper, and your cock throbs and you almost lose it right then and there. But she pulls back before that, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Get back to work, Daddy," she says when she notices you staring (because of course, you're staring), "or else I'm edging you all night. Then again, if that means this one's going to be even more full than usual, I wouldn't mind." She winks, her hand stroking the rubber encasing your shaft, and you shudder, but return to typing, even though you're sure the email you're writing is a ChatGPT-esque mess of gibberish.

You're trying your hardest to get this fucking work done, but it's impossible. The condom can't hide the warmth, the softness of her tongue, the way her cheeks hollow as she sucks you off, her head bobbing up and down on your lap. When her lips stretched around your girth hit the root of your shaft, the tip poking the entrance of her throat, you can see her eyes watering, but she doesn't gag this time, only sucks, and sucks, and sucks. Heejin's hand reaches around your waist and squeezes your ass, and you have to bite back a moan as she fondles your cheek. Your fingers are hovering over the keyboard. You haven't typed anything in the last three minutes.

Heejin giggles, her hand coming back to cup your balls, massaging them in rhythm to her bobbing. Each bounce of her head comes with more and more sticky throat slime coating the latex. Your hips are asking to move, like this blowjob could be misconstrued as anything but throatfucking at this point, Heejin actively pushing herself down and up your shaft.

When she needs a break, and lord knows you need it equally bad, Heejin's tongue swirls around your ballsack, licks up the length, and then swirls around your cockhead. "You're doing so well, Daddy," she says. A long smooch here at the tip, where you can see a decent amount of pre in the green rubber. Her hand strokes your length, the latex sheathe creating a smooth glide. "You're gonna give me a nice big load, aren't you?" Heejin kisses the tip again, then places her tongue flat against your shaft and laps at it, like she's trying to clean off your precum through the rubber.

You let out a choked gasp. "Y-yes. Of course. Just—"

You're panting, you can feel your orgasm coming to a boil. Heejin seems to know it because she wraps her lips around the tip of your cock and starts suckling on it.

This knock on the door makes your heart drop. You can pretend you're not here, but then you're certain whoever it is will just barge in.

Heejin's lips don't even waver; if anything, her mouth is working faster, trying to get you to cum. "Come in," Heejin calls out cheerily, her voice slightly muffled. Your eyes bug out, and you're about to push her off, but she takes you down to the base again.

"Is that Heejin?" your Haseul asks. "Let me come in and say hi!" She opens the door and frowns slightly. "Oh, where is she?"

"Th-that was a phone call." You're sweating. You're shaking. You're trying not to cum in your boss' boss' presence. "She's heading out, actually. Just hung up." You're hoping to whatever god that Haseul doesn't step around the table and see a beautiful, slutty head bobbing on your lap. "Did you need something?"

You're getting closer, and the only sign of Heejin's acknowledgment of this precarious situation is a giggle that reverberates around your cock, and you're going to cum.

"Oh, she's a funny girl. It sounded like she was talking with her mouth full." Haseul laughs.

"Yeah, that's Heejin." God, your orgasm's cresting. You need to cum. "Hah, I guess you can say that."

"Hey, are you okay?" Haseul asks.

You grab Heejin's hair to stop her, but she just hollows her cheeks and continues suckling. "Yep. Great. Great as a late night can be."

"Totally. In the same boat. Well, I don't wanna take up too much of your time..."

So that means for the next ten minutes, you're listening to Haseul drone on while you're on edge. This is the worst edging session of your life, but the only thing you can do is pray that you can get through this alive. Unable to hold off the horny little devil sucking on your shaft, Heejin restarts the momentum of the blowjob. If Haseul sees the slight bobbing, she doesn't mention it. Maybe this is where being known for being restless is good. Heejin's mouth feels like it's sucking your soul straight out of your dick. It's all too much. You're going to cum, you're going to cum, you're going to cum.

"You sure you okay?" Haseul steps closer. Every single part of your body is screaming to..."You look like you're about to explode. Did I do something? I'm sorry if—"

"No, no, no, Haseul!" You wave your hands wildly. "You didn't do anything! I'm just a little sick!" You give a performative cough."I shouldn't have come to the office! I should've just stayed home, and—"

"Hey, I get it. We all do crazy things for the grind. You're a real trooper." Reaching over the desk, her hand rests on your shoulder, and you shiver, not in pleasure, not in fear, but in pure shock that Heejin hasn't stopped sucking you. You can feel the condom straining to contain your load. "You should go home. I'm sure they can finish it tomorrow."

"I'm fine!" you croak. You're not fine.

Haseul laughs, but she gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze, and you tense up, worried that Heejin is going to gag, or Haseul will look down, and then it's game over. "I'll take care of it," she says. "You need to go home, rest. I'm not asking." Her eyes are kind. "I'm sure Heejin would want you to. You're a good man."

There's someone else not asking. And she's on her knees, taking, and you brace against the desk, feeling it start to erupt from your core. No. She sucks harder, her lips stretching around your cock even tighter, her tongue circling your glans, and you finally explode into the condom as your entire body shudders, and you drive into Heejin’s throat, a silent scream rising in your chest. The condom is filled with what must be the thickest, stickiest, hottest cum of your life. Haseul's still holding her shoulder as you geyser away, shutting your eyes and biting your tongue and putting your whole face in your palm while your every muscle tenses. You must look like a raving lunatic.

"Oh! What was that?" Haseul asks, innocently.

"Nothing. Nothing. Noth..." You're panting. "No offense, can you step outside for like five minutes, I just need to... My head... ow."

"I'm so sorry!" Haseul steps back immediately. "I should've taken the hint! Take your time."

"Thank you," you manage as the last dribbles of your orgasm fill the condom. You can feel Heejin smug as she gently sucks whatever remains of that orgasm. Your cock's so fucking sensitive now.

As soon as the door closes and footsteps recede in the distance, Heejin lifts her head off your lap, smacking her lips obnoxiously.

"Wow," Heejin grins."She's so sweet."

Your brain is filled with fog.

Her breath tickles your sensitive shaft and sends pleasurable chills up and down your body. "That was hot as fuck, wasn't it?" Heejin asks. Maybe. Maybe not. What just happened. You respond with nothing. Heejin grabs her phone from her bag and types away. "There. She'll leave us alone now."

"What?"

Heejin giggles. "God, this one looks especially full." She slides the condom off using tightly sealed lips, and you have to watch it slowly slip from your shaft. When it falls into her hands, instead of tying it up as routine, she brings it to her lips."Sorry Daddy, this one looks too good not to..."

"You're really gonna—"

"Yup!" Heejin takes the condom in her mouth and lets the opening unfurl onto her tongue. The sticky white fluid that drips out pools in the back of her throat, her jaw stretched to flaunt. While the rubbery sheathe gets thinner and emptier, Heejin swishes the sperm around. It looks like a one-man bukkake inside Heejin's mouth.

"You're such a nasty slut."

With a smirk, her mouth shuts. Her lips curl over it as she gulps and swallows with a noisy gulp. Her cheeks bulge and her neck is visibly working. You watch as the entirety of your cum is swallowed. She opens her mouth wide again, tongue lolled out, to show off her hard work."Ahh. All clean. Don't pretend you don't love it." Heejin pouts. "Aw, man. I can't add this one to the others."

"Here, give me that." You take the sloppy condom from Heejin's hand, and she lets you, a little surprised, a little curious as you place it on the corner of your desk.

"What are you doing?"

You're thankful Haseul is gone by now; otherwise, she'd catch a cum-covered green condom on your desk corner, and a Heejin grinding on it like she was going to get pregnant from that thing. Now there's a video you'll watch over and over. Heejin makes for the cutest squirmer. Her little whimpers and gasps are endearing, and the neediness with which she rubs her cunt against the condom will probably turn into your go-to material when Heejin's too busy at work.

***

Hybrid work is great. You're thankful Haseul gave you the green light for remote work whenever you need it. While you wish Heejin's company gave her the same luxury, you realize that would likely lead to an extreme lack of productivity, even if no one else knew what exactly was happening.

It would lead to days like this.

"Hey babe, welcome back!" Heejin runs up to you as soon as you walk through the door, and you wrap your arms around her and kiss her forehead. She's in the middle of getting dressed, a bra on her chest and her panties on her bottom, and she smells like fresh soap and a hint of sweat, like she just did a bit of manual labor. Her body is soft and warm against yours, and her hair tickles your neck. "How was work?" she asks, pulling back from you.

"Same as usual." You shrug off your backpack, setting it on a table, and Heejin's eyes light up as you unzip the front pocket.

"I have something new for you."

"Oh yeah?"

Heejin brings you to your office and you find a fancy new standing desk. You were just talking about wanting one now that you'll be working at home more often.

"You're the best. I love you." You pull her in and kiss her on the mouth, and Heejin eagerly kisses back, her arms wrapping around your neck.

When you break away, she looks up at you and grins. "You know, I didn't just get this for ergonomics." She drags you by the hand to the side. "Check it out." That's when you realize this woman has corrupted your office space. Your laptop (not the work one, thank goodness) is opened to a tab of some porn video. There are condoms and lube bottles on the side, as well as an empty box. Heejin giggles as you gape at her.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Is it not obvious what I'm going for?"

"How am I gonna get work done with this?"

"Easy." Heejin points to the gap between the desk and where you're standing. "You stand here, and I'll crawl underneath and just lie down, with my ass up in the air, and you can just fuck my pussy like a fleshlight whenever you need to jerk off. It's perfect."

"Hah. Work, though."

"I'll be good!" Heejin gives her best puppy-dog eyes, and you can feel yourself melting at the sight of her pout. "I'll try not to moan, and I won't cum unless you let me. Let me show you."

Heejin gets underneath the desk, bending over like a gymnast and grabbing her ankles. Though she's wearing a casual home dress, you're easily reminded how flexible and athletic Heejin's body is, her thighs and ass toned from her years of dancing.

"You can use my holes whenever you want." She wiggles her ass at you. "And when you're done, I'll take your cum. See? Make a deposit in the cum bank." Her laughter turns to a squeal as you swat her ass. The noise echoes throughout your home office space. "How does that sound?"

You respond by tugging her dress up to her hips and pulling her panties down to her thighs. Heejin shivers and lets out a little sigh, her pussy already dripping wet. "God, you're so hot," you murmur. You rest your cock between the snug crevice of her ass while you get the computer ready, a browser full of porn tabs ready to be explored. Heejin's ass is so soft against the underside of your shaft, and you can feel your cock twitch as you start rubbing against her.

You click through a couple of porn videos before settling on a petite woman with a tight body and a big rack, getting fucked from behind in a POV perspective. Heejin giggles. "Ooh, I think I recognize that one Daddy. Her ass is cute, isn't it? Are you going to jerk off your cock with my holes imagining they’re hers?" You pop a condom onto your cock and slide in. Heejin's pussy feels like heaven, as always, but you're not sure how long you'll last, given the circumstances.

"Yours is better," you say. "But I don't mind spicing it up."

The woman in the video is moaning and squealing and screaming about the cock pounding into her pussy. Heejin is doing her best to stay quiet, but you can hear her breathing heavily and whimpering with every thrust.

You squeeze Heejin's asscheek. "Cocksleeves don't talk, remember?"

"Fuck, Daddy, I'm trying... you just get so, fuck, fucking deep..." she moans. "I can feel you all the way in my cunt." You give her ass a firm smack. "Fuck! Sorry Daddy, I promise, I promise I'll be good." She's still whimpering, but you can tell she's trying her best. God, you're not gonna last long.

You grab Heejin's hips, pulling her back onto your cock with each thrust. Her tight, warm, wet pussy feels amazing around your cock. She's still whimpering and moaning, but she's trying her best to keep it down. It doesn't take long before you feel yourself about to cum. With a groan, you slam into Heejin one last time, your cock twitching inside her as you cum, and you can feel the condom filling up.

You stay like that for a few moments, panting, before pulling out. Heejin whimpers as you do, her pussy clenching around your cock. You take a moment to catch your breath, then tie off the used condom, and drop it on the small of Heejin's back.

"Thank you, Daddy." Heejin sounds like she's in a daze.

You give her no respite, opening another video and feeling inspired. This is a much rougher one, the man in the video holding the woman's arms behind her back and brutally slamming his cock into her asshole. You decide that you want to try that, grabbing another condom and lubing it up thoroughly. Heejin gasps as you plunge into her asshole and pull her arms back, and you start fucking her, hard.

"Daddy!"

You yank her hair. "Be a quiet anal fleshlight, or you're not getting any cum today."

"Yes Daddy," Heejin moans, but her words cut off in a squeal as you yank on her hair again. This time, Heejin tries her hardest to stay quiet, and you're impressed at how well she manages, despite the rough treatment you're giving her ass, her hair in a ponytail that you're using as a rein to control her. You can feel Heejin's tight hole clenching around you, and you know she's getting close. Just as she's about to cum, you pull out, leaving her unsatisfied.

"Daddy..." She whimpers, and you can hear her pouting. "Please, I was so close..."

"On your knees." The sudden command is met with no resistance from Heejin. She immediately crawls out from under the desk, her dress still bunched up at her waist, her panties still around her thighs. You slap your condom-covered dick against her cheek. "Clean my cock, slut." You grab her by the hair and shove her face down onto your cock, your other hand holding the base of your shaft. Heejin doesn't even blink, just starts sucking on the rubber-covered shaft, no care in the world about the taste of her own ass. She moans around it as she cleans it off, her eyes closed, looking content. You let her suckle for a while, before pulling out and yanking her back to her feet by the hair.

"Are you gonna use me again like a fucktoy? Jerk off using my asshole?" Her eyes glimmer at the prospect.

"No. Get on all fours. I'm done with porn for now, I wanna use my anal fucktoy properly."

You don't need to ask twice. Heejin gets on the floor and arches her back, her ass up and her head down, presenting herself to you. You close the laptop and then squeeze lube between Heejin's ass cheeks. She shudders.

"You have some incredible ideas, but sometimes I just prefer to fuck my girlfriend." You plunge into her and Heejin squeals in delight. "God, you're so tight," you groan, starting to pound her ass. "I can't get enough of you."

"Thank you Daddy, thank you!" She moans. "God yes, fuck me, use my tight little ass, it's yours, it's yours, it's yours. Use it whenever you want." You're fucking her harder and faster now, her tight asshole squeezing your cock, and Heejin is folding and buckling under the sheer force of your thrusts, her hands and face pressed into the floor. You really don't need much time, as Heejin's ass is so tight and hot, and it doesn't take long before you're cumming into the condom with a loud groan.

When you pull out, Heejin collapses face-down into the floor, her ass sticking up, her asshole gaping and twitching around the emptiness.

"Looks like that asshole is begging for cum." You peel the cum-filled condom off your cock, and Heejin looks back at you. She must be thinking what you're thinking. You take the opening of the condom and pour it into her ass, and Heejin gasps then moans as you watch it trickle into her gaping hole.

"That feels... so good, Daddy." Her voice is slurred. She's barely coherent. "So good."

You watch the cum dribble down her thighs, and you reach down and spread Heejin's ass open so you can watch more of your seed disappear into her tight, gaping asshole until the condom is empty and Heejin's ass is dripping with your cum. When you let go of her ass, you slap it and Heejin jumps. "Stay there. I'll get some water for you."

As you leave the room, Heejin giggles, her face pressed against the carpet of your office. "Mmm, thank you. I'll stay nice and still for you."

You return to the sight of a beautiful woman, still in the same position as when you left except with two fingers in her pussy, two down her cream-lubed asshole.

***

Usually, you awake to the sound of your morning alarm. This is not the case today. Instead, you are rudely (or rather, kindly) awakened by Heejin slurping and sucking on your cock.

"Goo' morning," Heejin greets you, her voice muffled. "I was waiting for you to wake up. Did you know that you talk in your sleep?"

You rub your eyes and squint to look at your phone while Heejin nurses on your cockhead like it's a lollipop. "Yeah, you told me before. What time is it, babe? Are we gonna be late?"

"It's six." Heejin pouts. "We have plenty of time. We just won't be able to take our time, that's all." She kisses the head of your dick. "I think we'll be fine. Let me just get a couple of loads from you and then I'll get ready."

You sigh. You can never resist her. And, you suppose, it is nice waking up to Heejin sucking your cock.

"You like my collar, Daddy?" She smirks, looking up at you with big puppy dog eyes, and bats her lashes. The leather choker has a large silver hoop on it. "I figured it'd be a good way to carry more condoms. Look!" She grabs an empty, unopened one from your side table, opens the wrapper, and slips the ring into the hoop on her collar, like a keychain. "Doesn't that look good?"

"I bet it'll look better filled."

Heejin giggles. She's back to blowing you, the rubbery condom a familiar and pleasant sensation on your shaft. "So sexy," she mumbles.

Your hands run through her hair, gripping it tightly, but you let her do the work, slurping up and down on your cock.

"Deeper."

Heejin pushes herself down further, taking it into the back of her throat, and she gags but doesn't stop. Even with a tear running down her cheek, Heejin's smile doesn't waver.

"You like choking on my cock?"

Heejin hums an affirmative.

"You like having your throat fucked?"

She gags again, but Heejin doesn't stop, and you feel yourself getting close, especially with her hands doing all sorts of work, massaging your balls and caressing the underside of your cock.

"All before we've even had breakfast."

[lynaferns]

Redraw (well, third attempt) of an old drawing from 2022.

Alright, this is a big one, so, PC users: left click the image, right click the image, open in another tab, zoom and see all the details you want.

Phone users: press down on the image, download, find image in your phone gallery, it will download at full quality so you can zoom and see all the details.

The fancy stars and the inside of the piano were a pain in the ass, everything else went pretty smoothly, or at least the average complications. I'm proud of how I mixed the colors in the piano. I was convinced I'd end up making a mess but it turned out nice.

Once again, this is finished because I decided so. I have no energy to make the final look I had in mind.

The piano alone, close ups (cuz the jpeg won't let you zoom at the very max and that sucks, so I screenshot from my art program) and an idea for an AU + youtube playlist I made that I relate too much to the AU under the cut. vvv

SO!

This was never supposed to be an AU, and I probably won't do anything regardless, but I got the idea while I was working on it last month. And since I have a liiiiiiittle basic knowledge of music and experience, specially in piano... well...

I had bad experiences learning music as a child so probably the story would reflect on that lol.

An old astral auditorium that's abandoned and in ruins during the day and gets all shiny and nice at night when it's illuminated by the light of the stars.

Sun, Moon and Eclipse are in charge of the place, they do their best at keeping the place standing… and are the main musicians that play for the stars every month, once or twice. The day and night transformation affects them too.

Violet (y/n that's not really a y/n at this point) is a young altruist and selftaugth violinist (yeah yeah, I'm very original with the names, hush) that came across this old auditorium. She starts visiting the brothers to play music during the day and decides to join them in the auditions to play for the stars, and help them modernize a little bit to attract human audience too.

The brothers play several instruments to be able to acompany each other if necesary buuut they each have a "favourite". Sun mainly Piano, Moon mainly Harp (can also play piano and viola to accompany Sun) and Eclipse can play any instrument Sun and Moon can and more, but likes accordion :)

Sun is the most strict one when it's about playing music even though he likes to mess around with songs and improvise during day hours when no body is around, but will feel guilty afterwards... Moon is a gremlin that likes messing up and playing with the instruments in ways you are not supposed to (like using the viola bow as a sword). Eclipse is easy going and will match the energy of their brothers while keeping them out of trouble. Clip doesn't really like playing for the auditorium and prefers improvising silly songs alone or with Sun and Moon.

You can ask me about this AU if it got you curious, I'll be glad to answer!

I still want to make the MC design at least. And maybe some sketch comics if I have the energy for it.

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | one

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before. 

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it? 

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name. 

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face. 

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them. 

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that. 

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened. 

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah. 

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing. 

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him. 

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol. 

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit. 

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late. 

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head. 

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse. 

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?” 

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig. 

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly. 

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?” 

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door. 

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone. 

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself. 

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet. 

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening. 

Kent was going after you. 

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around. 

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent. 

That couldn’t fucking be good. 

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it. 

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh. 

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. 

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two. 

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist. 

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear. 

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard. 

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face. 

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley. 

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more. 

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you. 

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet. 

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it. 

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest. 

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you. 

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face. 

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours. 

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards. 

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.” 

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you. 

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?” 

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.” 

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin. 

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side. 

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted. 

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship. 

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring. 

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls. 

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk. 

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered. 

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar. 

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else. 

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it. 

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world. 

A fucking slab of carved wood. 

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder. 

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt. 

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers. 

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church. 

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger. 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly. 

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words. 

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him. 

He was right, after all. 

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?” 

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.” 

It had been a statement, not a question. 

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone. 

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse. 

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee. 

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest.  “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables? 

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone. 

Want, sure. 

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther. 

But Joel didn’t just want you. 

He fucking needed you. 

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain. 

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?” 

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you. 

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek. 

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body. 

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.” 

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours. 

You heard him chuckle softly. 

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss. 

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking? 

And what about you? 

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it. 

None. 

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench. 

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss. 

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours. 

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you? 

He couldn’t. Simple as that. 

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself? 

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit. 

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further. 

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance. 

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat. 

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt. 

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline. 

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise. 

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt. 

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else. 

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t. 

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud. 

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.” 

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle. 

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest. 

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t. 

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson. 

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God. 

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?” 

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

[rolanpilled]

BG3 Patch 5 Spoilers

WARNING: BG3 SPOILERS AHEAD!

New content from the ending scene of BG3. This is all from the perspective of a redeemed Dark Urge who romanced Shadowheart and Halsin, and recruited every "good" ally possible.

people at the party: all your companions, scratch, owlbear, volo, and a bard in the middle playing a song (his name is milil)

lae'zel is the only one who isn't here physically, she sent an astral projection instead because she's been busy fighting vlaakith

astarion explains why he ran away (ashamed) when the sunlight hit him, he's become a "hero" who adventures and has accepted himself

(romanced halsin) you can hug halsin, he's missed his friends and you. you can do both the hug and the kiss, it's really sweet. he's turned the shadowlands into a community, repursing reithwin and moonrise towers into homes for people

jaheira's daughter rejoined the flaming fist, she's been working on rebuilding the harper network. the upper city was entirely destroyed by the battle but has been mostly rebuilt. she jokes that you might be a parent soon

wyll gives you a choice between three stories, a stegosaur/dinosaur battle, an impossible lich, or a young dragon. he lost his warlock powers but has been managing the best he can, and has become a RANGER ("a true hunter of monsters"). duke ravengard is commanding the flaming fist and help rebuilding the city, and he's very proud of his son

minsc and boo guard the streets while jaheira is "occupied with harperish manners". they "went to give a tickle" to the zhentarim, then got locked up in a zhentish cell, awaiting execution? idk if i'm reading incorrectly but he seems to be implying that he actually GOT executed but withers brought him back just in time lmfao

gale has become "professor gale dekarios of blackstaff academy, educator of the esteemed school of illusion". tara is with him. he surrended the crown of karsus to mystra, who cured him of the orb in exchange (his tattoo is gone), though his students still think he's explosive (he implies that he uses it as a threat to keep his class under control). he tells his students about your adventures together. he also implies you're welcome to visit his tower

shadowheart (main romance) - the game told me that we settled down together to live a happy, peaceful life on a farm in the countryside. shar still hurts her (if parents are saved), especially when she can sense that SH is enjoying herself, but it's been getting less frequent because she's been "losing interest". there's a new hug and kiss scene for her too, so i'm assuming this is for ALL companions and not just halsin/SH/whoever

withers will speak to you about karlach, explaining that she won't be able to come back. he jokes about her, which is rare for him, and you're given to opportunity to grieve her loss. in "a dozen tendays" (assumedly how long bg3 is), "an entire life was lived, she lived several centuries" (not exact quote).

milil, the bard playing in the center, does NOT want to be there. he's pissed that no one recognizes him (he's pissed specifically that i'm a bard and don't recognize him), i had to pass a deception check to recognize him and he cheered up and offered to change the song he's playing

there's a chest called "Chest of Grateful Words" filled with letters from your allies!

"Official Guild Letter"

"Letter from Barcus"

"Letter from Art"

"Letter from Valeria"

"Letter from Ravengard"

"Letter from Sebastian"

"Letter from Florrick"

"Letter from the Gur" (unascended Astarion)

"Letter from Alfira" (durge, killed quil grootslang)

"Letter from Dammon"

"Letter from Elminster"

"Letter from Nocturne"

"Letter from Voss"

"Letter from Hope"

"Letter from Mayrina"

"Letter from Nine-Fingers"

"Letter from Zevlor"

"Harp-stamped Letter"

Baldur's Mouth Gazette

If you find anything interesting I missed, please let me know.

[afterglowkatie]

pair of pests: interviews ˏˋ°•*⁀ kyra x catley!reader, short fic/blurb

kyra cooney-cross x reader | 1.2k | based off of this ask (mostly just harper and tiny, with a little of kyra at the end)

Mini was currently in a post match interview with Harper when you’d been called into the room to wait on the side since you were supposed to have one as soon as Mini’s was done. You tried to be discreet and for the most part you’d been able to slip into the room without Harper’s attention shifting to you.

You silently laughed on the side, watching Harper inevitably steal the show from her mum. Climbing up onto the table, playing around with the microphone that was propped up on the table, looking out at everyone and then playing with the bracelets she had around her wrists that the fans had just given them.

Any interviews with Harper, she’d always steal the show and you couldn’t blame anyone, she was too cute to ignore. Though you’d accidentally laughed a little too loud which caught Harper’s attention. Knowing how she is with you, is why you’d tried to stay quiet and discreet so you wouldn’t ruin another one of Mini’s interviews.

‘Ti!’ Harper almost shouted and tried to get to you as fast as possible, climbing back up onto the table and trying to just jump off the other side. Mini had to jump up and quickly stop Harper from tumbling off the table onto the floor. Harper wiggled in Mini’s arms until she’d been placed on the ground and ran off to you.

‘Hi Harps,’ You leaned down, opening your arms so she could run into them and have you lift her up, ‘Shh we’ve gotta be quiet so your mum can finish up,’ You tried to keep Harper quiet while Mini finished her interview.

‘It’s boring,’ Harper whined, catching everyone’s attention while they laughed at her comment, you couldn’t help but laugh as well.

With everyone distracted it seemed to be the perfect time to finish up Mini’s post match interview. Mini moved away from the table over to where you were holding Harper, going to take Harper so you could do your post match interview. When Harper saw her mum coming towards you both she threw her arms around your neck and buried her head, if she couldn’t see her mum then she couldn’t be taken away from you.

You and Mini both shared a look as well as a small laugh at Harper’s actions, ‘You wanna stay with me and help me do my interview?’ You spoke softly. Harper lifted her head and nodded.

‘Oh but I thought it’s boring,’ Mini poked Harper’s side, making her laugh.

‘Boring with you but not with Ti!’ Harper gave Mini a little cheeky smile.

‘She spends too much time with you and Kyra,’ Mini laughed, giving your shoulder a little nudge.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Mini shook her head when you gave her the exact same smile Harper had just given her. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that you and Harper aren’t actually sisters.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You were on your way to a pre match press conference, since your schedule fit the best with it you Tony had asked you to do the press conference alongside him. Though you’d made the mistake of walking through where Mini, Harper and some of the other girls were. 

Not even a minute of being in the same space as Harper, you’d heard the sounds of her little feet running towards you. Leaning down, you gave her a hug, ‘I’m sorry, I have to go speak with some people,’ It wasn’t the easiest to leave Harper, especially during camps she would almost always be attached to you. It was the most time she got to spend with you almost uninterrupted. You always did your best to see Mini, Harper and the rest of your little found family back in London, but away matches and different training schedules didn’t make it easy.

‘Okay,’ Harper smiled and grabbed onto your hand when you stood up and went to walk along with you.

The others there tried to help you out and get Harper to stay behind with them, ‘It’s okay, I’m sure no one will mind,’ Making your way to the press conference you caught up with Tony, ‘I’m sorry, we’re like a package deal at this point,’ You both laughed at your comment. No one could deny that it wasn’t true.

‘It’s alright, they might even have questions for little Harper,’ 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There were times where you got to have even more fun with the fact that Harper can pick you out in any kind of crowd. Like when it was an Arsenal v West Ham match and you were getting photos taken with your player of the match award. Harper had made her way through all the people to interrupt the photos.

Though you were prepared for something like this happening, since you knew you’d have your little shadow after the match. You’d bought a little Arsenal jersey and gotten Harper’s name printed on the back along with your number. Kyra helped you along with the plan of swapping Harper’s West Ham jersey with the Arsenal one. Kyra was waiting back a bit for you while you were busy with the staff when Harper came walking by her, ‘What I don’t get a hello?’ Kyra feigned offence but all she got was a little smirk and side eye from Harper.

‘Hang on a moment,’ You hadn’t gotten the photos taken just yet so you thought this was the perfect opportunity, ‘Kyra bring it here,’ You called out to your girlfriend who you knew was hiding the Arsenal jersey beneath her jacket. You both kneeled down next to Harper, ‘I got you a little present. How would you feel about wearing this right now?’ You asked Harper while Kyra held up the jersey, showing the back, ‘It’s just like mine,’ You turned slightly showing how the jersey’s both had the same number.

You both kept an eye out making sure no one, Mini in particular, would see this happening and stop it before you’d even had the chance to swap Harper’s jersey’s. Harper immediately reached out to grab at the jersey in Kyra’s hand. Kyra helped Harper swap the West Ham jersey she had over the top of her hoodie for the Arsenal one.

‘Much better in red,’ Kyra grinned and you knew Harper was going to copy that later and say it to Mini but it was all worth it. 

‘Just like Ti!’ Harper was excited, showing off the jersey to some of the other Arsenal girls that were walking by before you scooped her up, holding out the little award so you and Harper could hold it for your photos. You’d gotten a bunch of photos of the two of you together, showing off the back of the jersey’s as well. 

‘Yeah a little Tiny,’ Kyra smiled, admiring how good you were with Harper. Had her thinking about the future and getting to have moments like this with your own kid one day.

[retroaria]

hey! I'm not really into nsfw stuff- sooo would you like to do something soft with reo? 😭 like, idk, him as a husband or father so with a family? THANK YOU SO MUCH 💗💗

✮⋆˙ domestic reo headcanons ✮⋆˙

a/n: this is so brain rotted i can’t even lie i think reo is just so easy to romanticize. pure fluff.

• | BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy !! - aria 💜 | •

✮ I actually love this because i headcanon that reo would be a great dad :D at the very least he’d be extremely supportive of whatever his children wanted to do in their lives. He wouldn’t force them to follow in his footsteps like his father and he’d use whatever devices he could to ensure they can comfortably follow the path they choose.

✮ Would post about all his children’s accomplishments, or if you guys didn’t feel comfortable posting the kids he’d still take any chance to tell everyone about it - even his teammates who literally don’t care that his son got the highest score on the spelling test (they’re happy for him though). He secretly enjoys scrapbooking for his kids but they’re “your books” and he “just helps you with it sometimes”. (he’s the one who took almost all the pictures and saved every piece of paper his kid has ever drawn on)

✮ Reo is a charming husband, so charming and sweet it’s hard to be mad at him. He’s a bit lacking in cleaning/caretaking capabilities when it comes to the home but he puts in the effort??? He tries his best and if he does a bad job he always makes it up to you one way or another. In all honesty, he’s probably already hired people to do that (forgot this man is inheriting a multi millionaire dollar corporation).

✮ Reo is however very good at taking care of children. Once he has a clear grasp of their needs, he finds it to be really enjoyable and fulfilling. He takes a lot of pride in whatever happiness and comfort he can bring to his kids. He hates the sound of his babies crying, not because it’s annoying (though he complains about that too) but because it genuinely hurts his soul. He can be a bit too worrisome about it sometimes - he’s totally the type of person to look up his child’s symptoms and freak out over seeing all the worst case scenarios.

✮ The one thing that reo particularly excels at is taking care of you when you’re sick. He can always tell when you’re not feeling your best and he immediately harps on you. He doesn’t know how to cook very well but he knows how to make a few different kinds of warm foods to fill your stomach and give you a little energy. He’d absolutely refuse to stay away from you (unless it was a seriously contagious illness or if you guys had a baby that could’ve gotten sick). Doesn’t care if you’re sneezing and coughing and wheezing, he wants to feed you and hold you and kiss your hot head until it cools down and everything is better again. His goal is always to make sure you get better as soon as possible and won’t let you do anything but rest and relax until then.

✮ Reo is an incredible gift giver! I’ve certainly mentioned this in another hc post, but he is always out and about buying you little things that remind him of you. If you guys have a kid that’s just more gifts he’ll have to get and the thought of that honestly excites him.

✮ Anything can happen but…reo with a daughter…guys….

✮ he would be the sweetest girl dad! would do everything in his power to make her believe she’s an actual princess and he’s just one of her loyal servants. Spoils her rotten and doesn’t feel bad about it.

✮ You’d have to explain to him how this could negatively affect your daughter and it would break his heart. He’d go into theatrics trying to refute it because “What do you mean I can’t let her have everything she wants?” and “What if she cries? You want me to make my daughter cry?” he gets it eventually, but remains reluctant lol.

✮ He’d love playing sports with his kids. Would try to get them into soccer but if they end up liking another sport he’s still just as hype. Isn’t initially familiar with the concept of letting the kids win but soon realized he has to level with the speed of their little legs.

✮ I don’t have any specific hc’s for him as a boy dad but he’d be just as great of course - he’d make sure his son sees how women should be treated based on how he treats you!

✮ If he could find a way to make you the total world ruler he would because he truly believes you’re the most capable person. He’s the kind of husband who lets you run things for the most part but is always there to step in when you need a break or if you just want him by your side. Would call for an emergency flight back home from whatever country he’s training in just because you said you didn’t wanna go to parent teacher night alone.

✮ He loves doing mundane tasks with you, but always tries to “make it a bit more fun” as he says - which basically means he puts away the clothes you fold while you listen to him crack really bad jokes at you, gossip about his teammates, or try to sing and serenade you with his MANY playlists he’s made dedicated to you. On days you both have nothing going on he follows you around the house like a lost puppy, which is slightly annoying but it also means you have four hands to do stuff because he’s a participator above all else.

✮ Reo always makes sure to show his appreciation for how hard you work whether it’s at your job, taking care of the kids/house, or both. He takes time alone with you very seriously, even as your lives get busier and your family grows he always makes sure there’s time for the two of you to just be together and be in love. Always jokes about how you guys need to keep the romance going. He has small romantic gestures that he indulges you in throughout the day: kissing you on the cheek, brushing your hair out of your face/tying it back for you if you if you need (taking his hair tie out for you to use), hugging you a little tighter just before you get up, running a bath for the both of you, massaging your shoulders while you talk.

to be fully honest with you guys, i have never in my life wanted to have kids so it was a bit hard for me to imagine what being happy with children would be like LMAO but alas i did my best. stay safe and stay cool. - aria :3

[fioredeciliego]

Sweet like Sin - Kim Minji x Fem!Reader

10k words

Y/N sat at a gleaming desk, absently twirling her quill as Archangel Gabrielle approached with her signature no-nonsense stride. A scroll materialized in her hand, glowing faintly with divine energy.

“Y/N,” Gabrielle began, her tone stern yet warm. “We’ve decided on your next assignment.”

Y/N perked up, brushing an errant strand of her halo-like light back into place. She loved assignments—they were her chance to guide humans toward a brighter path, to be the beacon of hope she was born to be.

Gabrielle placed the scroll on the desk. “You’ve been paired with a demon.”

The quill fell from Y/N’s hand, clattering onto the marble surface. “A demon?!”

Gabrielle nodded, the faintest hint of amusement in her usually impassive face. “Yes. Every demon gets a guardian angel. We believe this one has potential. It’s your job to bring it out.”

“But—but demons are incorrigible! They don’t listen, they don’t care, and they definitely don’t bake cookies for charity!”

Gabrielle raised a brow. “That’s why it’s your assignment, Y/N. You’ve always excelled in... stubborn cases.”

Y/N groaned, dramatically flopping her head onto the desk. “Fine. Who is it?”

Gabrielle unfurled the scroll with a wave of her hand, revealing an elegant name written in celestial script: Kim Minji.

Y/N squinted. “Never heard of her. Is she one of those fire-and-brimstone types? Or a sulky goth type?”

Gabrielle gave her a knowing smile. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

--

Moments later, Y/N stood in the assigned meeting spot, a tranquil meadow just beyond the pearly gates. She fidgeted, wings twitching nervously. In the distance, a faint shimmer appeared, growing closer and more vivid until a figure stepped through.

Y/N stiffened.

The demon wasn’t at all what she expected.

Instead of horns and a tail or a shadowy aura of menace, Minji looked... adorable. She had shoulder-length dark hair that framed her youthful, smiling face, and her black outfit seemed more chic than sinister. She waved enthusiastically as she approached, her grin dazzling and completely disarming.

“Hi there!” Minji chirped, practically bouncing on her heels. “Are you my guardian angel?”

Y/N blinked, unsure how to process the sheer sunshine radiating off this supposed demon. “Uh... yes? I’m Y/N.”

Minji clasped her hands together, eyes wide with delight. “Wow, you’re even prettier than I imagined! I hit the jackpot!”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat, her wings fluffing involuntarily. “Excuse me?”

Minji giggled, clearly enjoying the angel’s flustered reaction. “Oh, nothing. So, what’s the plan? Do we go cloud-hopping? Maybe you show me how to play the harp?”

Y/N shook herself out of her daze, glaring at Minji. “This isn’t a vacation. I’m here to help you grow kinder and—hopefully—redeem yourself.”

Minji tilted her head, looking genuinely intrigued. “Redeem myself? For what? I haven’t done anything bad today. Unless you count stealing Gabriel’s chocolate stash last week. But honestly, he shouldn’t leave it lying around like that.”

“You stole chocolate from an archangel?!”

Minji shrugged, her grin cheeky. “What can I say? It was calling my name.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering to herself. “This is going to be a long assignment.”

Minji stepped closer, hands clasped behind her back as she peered up at Y/N with an innocent expression. “Don’t worry, angel. I’m sure we’ll get along great. I mean, look at us—we’re a match made in Heaven! Well, and Hell.”

Y/N shot her a pointed glare. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here to do my job.”

Minji smirked, clearly undeterred. “Sure, sure. But I bet you’ll like me eventually. Everyone does.”

“We’ll see about that.”

As they began walking toward their first session, Y/N tried to shake off the uneasy feeling in her chest. Minji might be a demon, but her smile was far too warm—and far too charming—for Y/N’s peace of mind.

“By the way,” Minji said, glancing at her. “Do guardian angels always look this good, or am I just lucky?”

Y/N groaned. This was definitely going to be a long assignment.

--

Y/N hovered just above the ground, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She scanned the meadow, her angelic senses on high alert. After the whirlwind that was Minji’s introduction, she’d spent the last few hours mentally preparing for whatever absurd antics the demon might pull next.

“This is fine,” Y/N muttered to herself, pacing in a small circle. “She’s probably plotting something. Maybe she’ll try to tempt me with—”

“Cookies!”

Y/N whirled around, her wings flaring instinctively. Standing behind her was Minji, holding a tray piled high with what appeared to be freshly baked cookies. The demon’s smile was wide and impossibly innocent, and the sunlight bouncing off her dark hair made her look far more angelic than Y/N was comfortable admitting.

“What,” Y/N said flatly, her gaze flicking between Minji and the cookies, “is this?”

Minji lifted the tray slightly, the smell of chocolate and caramel wafting toward Y/N. “Cookies! I baked them just for you.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily speechless. “You... baked cookies?”

Minji nodded enthusiastically, her grin never wavering. “Yep! I figured since it’s our first real meeting, I should make a good impression. I even used organic ingredients! You angels are into that, right?”

Y/N stared, trying to process the scene before her. “This has to be some kind of trick. Did you lace them with... I don’t know, sin or something?”

Minji gasped, clutching the tray dramatically to her chest. “How dare you accuse me of cookie corruption? These are pure, unadulterated baked goods. Scout’s honor!”

“You were never a scout,” Y/N deadpanned.

“Details.” Minji stepped closer, holding out the tray. “Come on, just try one. They’re not poisoned, I swear. Unless you’re allergic to deliciousness.”

Y/N hesitated, eyeing the cookies with suspicion. She wasn’t naïve enough to trust a demon, no matter how sweet they seemed—or smelled. But as Minji’s expectant gaze bore into her, Y/N found herself reaching out despite her better judgment.

She picked up a cookie, examining it like it was a cursed artifact. It looked... perfect. Golden brown, gooey chocolate chips, a sprinkling of sea salt on top. Against her will, her stomach rumbled.

Minji giggled, clearly pleased. “See? Even your celestial stomach knows what’s up.”

“Quiet,” Y/N muttered, breaking off a small piece of the cookie. She sniffed it, half-expecting it to burst into flames. When it didn’t, she cautiously took a bite.

The taste was heavenly.

Y/N froze, her eyes widening. The cookie melted in her mouth, the perfect balance of sweet and salty. It was, without question, the best thing she’d ever tasted.

“So?” Minji asked, leaning in with a hopeful smile. “What do you think?”

Y/N forced herself to swallow, quickly adopting a neutral expression. “It’s... acceptable.”

Minji’s grin grew wider. “Oh, come on! That was a celestial-sized bite of joy, and you know it.”

“It’s a cookie,” Y/N replied, striving for nonchalance. “Nothing more.”

Minji gasped, placing a hand over her heart as if wounded. “How dare you downplay my culinary masterpiece? That cookie could solve wars.”

“Or start them,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Despite her feigned indifference, Y/N couldn’t stop herself from taking another bite. She hated how good it was—and how much she hated that she didn’t hate Minji for it.

“Alright,” Y/N said after finishing the cookie, brushing crumbs off her pristine robes. “What’s your angle?”

Minji tilted her head, her expression genuinely confused. “Angle? What do you mean?”

“You’re a demon. There’s always an angle. Are you trying to butter me up so I’ll give you a glowing review? Or maybe you think if you act sweet, I’ll just ignore all your past sins.”

Minji’s smile softened, and she set the tray of cookies on a nearby rock. “Y/N, not every demon is out to manipulate you. Some of us just... like making people happy.”

Y/N arched a skeptical brow. “You’re saying you genuinely enjoy baking cookies for other people?”

Minji nodded, her gaze earnest. “Baking makes me feel calm. And seeing someone smile because of something I made? It’s the best feeling.”

For a moment, Y/N was taken aback. Minji’s words didn’t feel like the calculated charm of a manipulative demon. They felt... sincere.

“That doesn’t sound very demonic,” Y/N admitted cautiously.

Minji shrugged, her smile turning sheepish. “Yeah, well... I’m not exactly your textbook demon. I mean, I do my job—I tempt people, cause a little chaos here and there—but it’s not who I am all the time, you know?”

Y/N frowned, trying to reconcile Minji’s words with everything she’d been taught about demons. “If you don’t like being a demon, why not try to change?”

Minji looked away, her playful demeanor dimming slightly. “It’s not that simple. Once you’re marked as a demon, people expect you to act a certain way. Even if I wanted to... be different, it’s not like anyone would believe me. Except maybe you.”

The weight of Minji’s words hung in the air, and for the first time, Y/N felt a pang of sympathy for her assignment.

“Well,” Y/N said after a moment, trying to lighten the mood, “if you’re serious about changing, maybe start by not stealing archangels’ chocolate.”

Minji’s laugh was bright and melodic, a sound that caught Y/N off guard. “Noted. No more chocolate thievery. So... does this mean I passed the first meeting?”

Y/N sighed, glancing at the tray of cookies. “You didn’t set anything on fire or try to sell my soul, so I guess that’s a good start.”

Minji beamed. “I’ll take it!”

--

Y/N stood in front of the ominous-looking black door, wings twitching with unease. “So, this is your lair?” she asked, eyeing the ornate, gothic architecture with suspicion. “Why am I not surprised it screams ‘demonic chic’?”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, angel,” Minji said, her tone chipper. She leaned against the doorframe, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “You might actually like it inside.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “I highly doubt that.”

Minji smirked, reaching for the handle. “Suit yourself. But if you don’t come in, you’ll miss out on my famous hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?” Y/N repeated, her skepticism growing. “What kind of demon has hot chocolate in their lair?”

“The kind who knows how to live!” Minji chirped, pushing the door open with a dramatic flourish.

Y/N braced herself for the worst—screams of the damned, sulfuric smoke, grotesque decor. But as the door swung open, her jaw dropped.

Minji’s lair was... cozy.

The walls were painted a soft pastel pink, adorned with fairy lights and framed posters of serene landscapes. A plush couch sat in the center of the room, surrounded by mismatched but charming furniture. A fluffy white rug sprawled across the floor, and a collection of potted plants thrived in one corner.

“What... is this?” Y/N asked, stepping inside as if she were walking into an alternate reality.

“My humble abode,” Minji said proudly, kicking off her boots and flopping onto the couch. “Make yourself at home. Want a blanket? I have at least ten.”

Y/N blinked, unsure how to process the scene before her. “This doesn’t make any sense. You’re a demon. Where’s the fire? The brimstone? The souls writhing in agony?”

Minji propped her head up on one hand, grinning. “Oh, come on. That’s such a stereotype. Do you really think I’d live somewhere so depressing? I need good vibes to thrive.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You’re telling me the underworld lets you decorate like this?”

“Not exactly,” Minji admitted, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Technically, I’m supposed to maintain the whole ‘demonic doom’ aesthetic. But I figured, why not make it my own? Life—or afterlife—is too short to be surrounded by gloom.”

Y/N shook her head, utterly baffled. She wandered further into the lair, eyeing the eclectic decor. A small bookshelf caught her attention, filled with romance novels, cookbooks, and what appeared to be a collection of glitter pens.

“Are those... scented candles?” Y/N asked, pointing to a shelf lined with jars labeled Vanilla Dream, Ocean Breeze, and Pumpkin Spice.

“Of course,” Minji replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can’t have a cozy night in without candles.”

Y/N turned to Minji, hands on her hips. “How are you even a demon? You’re more wholesome than most angels I know.”

Minji sat up, crossing her legs beneath her. “Hey, don’t let the decor fool you. I can be very demonic when I need to be.”

“Oh, really?” Y/N challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Like when you bake cookies or steal archangels’ chocolate?”

Minji gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “That was a moment of weakness! Besides, I apologized for the chocolate thing.”

Y/N couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible in a charming way, right?” Minji teased, winking.

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t answer, instead continuing her exploration. She stopped in front of a cluster of framed photos on the wall, each showing Minji in various candid moments—laughing with other demons, posing with a giant plate of food, and even petting a golden retriever.

“Who takes these pictures?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious.

Minji hopped off the couch and joined her. “Oh, my friend Yeji. She’s a fellow demon, but she’s also really into photography. She says I’m her favorite subject because I’m so photogenic.”

Y/N studied the photos, noticing how happy Minji looked in every single one. It was hard to reconcile this carefree, radiant girl with the image of a scheming, malevolent demon.

“Do you ever take your job seriously?” Y/N asked, turning to Minji.

Minji tilted her head, her playful smile softening. “Of course I do. But that doesn’t mean I have to let it define me. Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I can’t have fun or be kind. I’ve learned to make the most of what I’ve got.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, taken aback by the sincerity in Minji’s voice. “I guess I never thought about it like that.”

Minji grinned, nudging Y/N’s shoulder. “See? I’m not so bad once you get to know me.”

Y/N gave her a look. “Don’t push it.”

“Too late,” Minji said, grabbing a blanket from a nearby chair and draping it over Y/N’s shoulders. “Now sit down and try my hot chocolate. I guarantee it’ll change your life.”

Y/N hesitated but eventually let Minji guide her to the couch. Minji disappeared into the kitchen, and moments later, she returned with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and sprinkles.

“Sprinkles?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow as Minji handed her a mug.

“They make everything better,” Minji replied, plopping down beside her.

Y/N took a tentative sip, and to her annoyance, it was delicious. Rich, creamy, and perfectly sweet—just like everything else about Minji’s bizarrely endearing existence.

As they sat in comfortable silence, Y/N found herself relaxing in Minji’s presence. Despite her initial doubts, she couldn’t deny that Minji had a way of making her feel at ease—a rare feat for anyone, let alone a demon.

“You know,” Minji said suddenly, breaking the quiet, “I think we make a pretty good team.”

Y/N snorted. “We’ve known each other for less than a day.”

“Details,” Minji said with a wave of her hand. “I can already tell you’re going to be my favorite guardian angel.”

Y/N shook her head, hiding her small smile behind her mug. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” Minji said cheerfully, raising her mug in a toast. “Here’s to our weird little partnership.”

Y/N clinked her mug against Minji’s, still unsure what she’d gotten herself into—but for the first time, she didn’t mind so much.

--

Y/N paced in front of the long, gleaming table, her pristine white robes shimmering under the room’s ethereal light. Wings twitching slightly, she tried to focus on the lesson at hand. Across from her, Minji slouched in her chair, her legs casually draped over the side as she twirled a celestial quill between her fingers.

“First rule of angelic virtues,” Y/N began, her voice steady despite her growing frustration, “is selflessness. A true guardian must think of others before themselves.”

“Sounds exhausting,” Minji drawled, inspecting the feathered pen like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“It’s not exhausting—it’s fulfilling,” Y/N shot back, her tone clipped. “It’s the foundation of everything we do as angels.”

Minji tilted her head, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Let me guess—you were top of your class in angel academy. The kind who turned in assignments early and reminded the teacher about homework, right?”

Y/N crossed her arms. “And proud of it. Those principles are why I’m here to help you.”

Minji let out a low chuckle, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re adorable when you’re annoyed, you know that?”

“I am not—” Y/N started, but Minji raised a hand, cutting her off.

“Relax, angel,” she said, leaning forward with a grin that could melt glaciers. “I’m just saying, maybe you could learn a thing or two from me.”

“From you?” Y/N repeated incredulously, her wings flaring slightly. “Learn what? How to make everything into a joke?”

“Close,” Minji said, tapping her chin as if deep in thought. “How to live a little. Let loose. You angels are so uptight with all your rules and halos.”

“I’m not uptight,” Y/N said defensively.

Minji smirked. “Oh, really? Then prove it.”

Before Y/N could ask what she meant, Minji grabbed a stack of perfectly organized training materials from the table and tossed them into the air. The papers fluttered down like snowflakes, scattering across the room.

“Minji!” Y/N’s voice was sharp, her eyes wide with horror. “What are you doing?!”

“Making things more exciting,” Minji said with an innocent shrug. She picked up one of the papers and held it like a victory flag. “Doesn’t this feel more... free?”

“This is chaos!” Y/N exclaimed, crouching to gather the fallen papers. “And it’s my job to fix it.”

Minji crouched beside her, their shoulders brushing as she reached for a paper. “Maybe that’s your problem, angel. Always trying to fix things. Maybe you should just... let go.”

Y/N paused, her fingers hovering over a page. For a brief moment, the warmth of Minji’s proximity made her thoughts stutter. She glanced sideways and caught Minji watching her with a soft, teasing smile.

“Stop distracting me,” Y/N muttered, looking away quickly.

“Admit it,” Minji said, leaning closer. “You’re having fun.”

“I am not—” Y/N began, but her words faltered as she met Minji’s gaze. There was something disarming about the way Minji looked at her, like she wasn’t just teasing anymore.

“You’ve got that little smile,” Minji pointed out, her own grin widening. “Right there.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she turned her attention back to the papers. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Minji said softly, “you’re still here.”

--

Later, after the mess was cleaned up and Y/N had regained her composure, they moved on to the next lesson.

“Gratitude,” Y/N announced, trying to refocus the session. “It’s about recognizing and appreciating the good in your life.”

“I’m great at that,” Minji said, her grin returning.

Y/N gave her a skeptical look. “Really?”

“Of course.” Minji placed a hand over her heart. “For example, I’m incredibly grateful to have a guardian angel who’s so dedicated. And cute.”

Y/N’s wings twitched. “That’s not—”

“And I’m grateful for this lovely lesson, even if it’s a little... rigid.”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “Gratitude isn’t about flattery, Minji. It’s about genuine appreciation.”

Minji’s smile softened, and for a moment, the teasing faded. “You mean like appreciating how hard you’re trying, even when I’m being... well, me?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Minji’s voice. “I—well, yes. That’s... part of it.”

Minji leaned back in her chair, her gaze lingering on Y/N. “Then I think I’m starting to get it.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond. The warmth in Minji’s tone left her feeling strangely unsteady, like she was standing on the edge of something she couldn’t quite see.

“Guess you’re not such a bad teacher after all,” Minji added, her grin returning. “But don’t let it go to your halo.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at her lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” Minji said, her voice low and teasing.

Despite herself, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. “Heaven help me.”

--

“Remember, this isn’t a vacation,” Y/N said, glancing over her shoulder at Minji.

Minji twirled in place, arms stretched wide, her dark coat billowing like wings. “It’s not? With scenery like this, it might as well be. You sure we’re not on a date, angel?”

Y/N sighed. “We’re here to help humans, not to fool around.”

Minji stopped spinning and grinned. “I don’t know, Y/N. Humans seem pretty good at fooling around. Maybe I’m just fitting in.”

“Minji,” Y/N warned, her tone heavy with exasperation. “Please focus.”

Minji clapped her hands in mock seriousness. “Yes, ma’am. Focused and ready to spread some good vibes.” She paused, then nudged Y/N. “You know, for someone with wings, you sure are grounded.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. She needed patience—heavenly patience—to handle this mission.

--

Their first target presented itself in the form of a woman struggling to carry an armful of groceries while chasing after a particularly sprightly toddler.

“That’s perfect,” Y/N said, pointing. “We’ll help her first. It’s straightforward.”

“Straightforward?” Minji echoed, trailing after Y/N. “Helping someone while they’re also managing a tiny human tornado? Sounds like advanced-level heroics to me.”

Y/N ignored her, stepping up to the woman with a polite smile. “Excuse me, ma’am. Would you like some help with those bags?”

The woman turned, her frazzled expression softening. “Oh, thank you. That would be amazing.”

Y/N took two bags with practiced ease. Minji, eager to participate, reached for another but underestimated its weight.

“Whoa—!” Minji yelped as the bag tipped, spilling its contents across the path. Apples rolled into the grass, a loaf of bread landed in a puddle, and a can of soup wobbled precariously near a storm drain.

“Minji!” Y/N hissed, rushing to gather the scattered items.

“Oops,” Minji said, crouching to help. She grabbed an apple and held it up triumphantly. “At least this one didn’t bruise!”

The woman laughed, clearly amused despite the chaos. “You two are so sweet. Thank you for trying.”

As Y/N handed over the recovered groceries, she shot Minji a pointed look. “Maybe let me handle the heavy lifting next time.”

Minji just shrugged, her grin unrepentant. “Hey, at least I made her laugh. That’s helping, right?”

--

Their next stop was an elderly man sitting on a bench, fumbling with his shoelaces.

“I’ll take this one,” Y/N said firmly.

Minji raised her hands in surrender. “Go for it, angel. I’ll stay right here and admire your handiwork.”

Y/N crouched in front of the man, offering him a gentle smile. “Let me help you with that.”

“Why, thank you, young lady,” the man said, his voice warm and kind.

As Y/N tied the laces with efficient care, she glanced up to see Minji digging through her coat pocket.

“Here,” Minji said, holding out a wrapped candy to the man. “A little treat for your walk.”

The man chuckled, taking the candy with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, isn’t that thoughtful? Thank you, miss.”

Y/N stood, brushing her hands off on her coat. She gave Minji a wary look as they walked away.

“Candy?” Y/N asked.

“Hey, it’s the thought that counts,” Minji said, popping another candy into her own mouth. “Besides, he seemed to like it.”

Y/N sighed, but her annoyance was tempered by the warmth spreading in her chest.

--

The final test came when they stumbled upon a group of children gathered around a tree, pointing up at a small, frightened cat perched on a high branch.

“Oh no,” Y/N murmured.

“This is my moment,” Minji declared, already marching toward the tree.

“Minji, wait—”

But Minji didn’t wait. She grabbed the lowest branch and hoisted herself up, her movements surprisingly agile for someone so prone to tripping over her own feet.

“Hey there, kitty,” Minji cooed as she climbed higher. “Don’t worry, I’m here to save you.”

The cat hissed, its ears flattening.

“Be careful!” Y/N called, her wings twitching instinctively under her coat.

Minji waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, I’ve got—”

The branch beneath her foot cracked ominously.

“Minji!” Y/N shouted, her heart leaping into her throat.

“I’m fine!” Minji called back, her voice slightly less confident. She reached for the cat, managing to scoop it into her arms. “See? Easy—”

The cat swiped at her face, yowling loudly. Minji yelped, losing her balance. She slid down the trunk in a flurry of leaves and landed in an ungraceful heap at the base of the tree.

The children gasped. Y/N rushed forward, kneeling beside Minji. “Are you okay?!”

“Ta-da!” Minji said weakly, holding up the now calm cat.

The children cheered, running forward to take the cat from her. “Thank you, lady!”

Y/N stared at Minji, torn between exasperation and something softer, something warmer. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, helping Minji to her feet.

“And you love it,” Minji said with a wink, brushing leaves out of her hair.

--

By the time the sun began to set, the park was quiet, and Y/N and Minji found themselves sitting on a bench overlooking a small pond.

“You’re impossible,” Y/N said, though there was no real heat in her voice.

“And yet, here you are,” Minji said, leaning back and stretching her arms over the back of the bench.

Y/N glanced at her, the golden light of the setting sun catching in Minji’s eyes. She looked so out of place, yet somehow perfectly at home.

“Today wasn’t a total disaster,” Y/N admitted.

Minji gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Was that... a compliment? From my angelic mentor?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“No promises,” Minji said, her grin softening into something genuine. “Thanks for letting me tag along today. I mean it.”

Y/N’s heart did a little flip at the sincerity in Minji’s voice. She looked away, focusing on the rippling water. “You’re welcome. Just... maybe next time, try not to climb any trees.”

Minji laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Deal.”

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the world around them bathed in warm hues of orange and pink. Y/N felt something shift—something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

But as Minji leaned closer, nudging her shoulder playfully, Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this demon wasn’t so bad after all.

--

Minji’s lair, a surprisingly cozy space lit by warm, flickering candles. Plush cushions and quirky trinkets fill the room, making it feel more like an artist’s studio than a demon’s lair. Y/N sits on a velvety armchair, scribbling notes in her celestial journal. Minji lounges nearby, her legs dangling off the side of a sofa, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Hey, angel,” Minji said lazily, propping her chin on her hand as she rolled onto her side. “What’s got you so focused over there? Writing a love letter to the Big Guy upstairs?”

Y/N didn’t bother looking up from her journal, her pen scratching purposefully against the page. “I’m writing down all the ways you’ve tested my patience today.”

Minji let out a melodramatic gasp, clutching at her chest. “That many, huh? And here I thought I was being charming.”

“You’re something, alright,” Y/N muttered, glancing up to narrow her eyes at the demon.

Minji grinned, her sharp canines peeking out. “C’mon, Y/N. You’re no fun when you’re all work and no play.” She paused, her eyes glinting with a sudden idea. “Speaking of play... you haven’t noticed anything missing, have you?”

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Missing?”

“Mm-hmm.” Minji sat up, looking far too pleased with herself.

Y/N hesitated, her hand unconsciously reaching up to the space above her head. Her fingers touched empty air.

Her heart sank.

“Minji,” she said slowly, her tone dangerously low. “Where is my halo?”

Minji’s expression teetered between guilt and amusement. “Oh, that? It’s safe! I promise!”

“Safe?” Y/N’s voice pitched upward as she stood abruptly, her journal falling forgotten onto the chair. “Where is it, Minji?!”

The demon tried to wave her off, but Y/N was already scanning the room, her sharp gaze darting from corner to corner. “I swear, if you’ve done anything to—”

“I hid it,” Minji blurted out, holding up her hands. “But only as a joke!”

“A joke?!” Y/N’s wings flared slightly, their usual ethereal shimmer pulsing with irritation. “Do you even understand how sacred a halo is?”

“I... uh...” Minji rubbed the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “No?”

Y/N groaned, pacing the room. “It’s not just some shiny accessory, Minji! It’s—ugh!” She spun to face the demon, her eyes blazing. “Where. Is. It?”

Minji flinched under the intensity of Y/N’s glare but quickly scrambled to her feet. “Relax, angel. It’s right here!”

She darted over to a cabinet, pulling open a drawer and retrieving the halo. It shimmered faintly in her hands, casting a warm golden glow over her sheepish face.

“See?” Minji said, holding it out like a peace offering. “Perfectly fine. No scratches or anything.”

Y/N snatched the halo from her hands, cradling it protectively. The moment it touched her fingers, she felt its reassuring warmth seep into her skin, calming the storm in her chest.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, her wings drooping slightly as the adrenaline left her.

“Hey, I said I was sorry,” Minji offered, her voice unusually soft.

Y/N glared at her, but there was less heat in her eyes now. “You don’t get it, do you? This halo isn’t just a symbol. It’s part of me. Tampering with it is like...” She paused, searching for the right analogy. “It’s like me messing with your... your horns or something.”

Minji tilted her head. “I don’t have horns.”

“That’s not the point!”

Minji’s shoulders slumped, her usual confidence dimmed. “I really didn’t mean to upset you, Y/N. I just thought it’d be funny. You know, lighten the mood.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Y/N said sharply, though her tone softened when she saw the genuine remorse in Minji’s eyes.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The golden light of the halo cast their faces in warm hues, accentuating the raw emotions lingering between them.

Finally, Minji broke the silence. “You’re right,” she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the floor. “I don’t get it. I don’t get a lot of things about you... or this whole guardian angel thing.” She gestured vaguely between them. “But I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the vulnerability in Minji’s voice. She watched as the demon ran a hand through her dark hair, her usual mischievous energy replaced by something quieter, more uncertain.

“I’ve spent centuries being good at one thing—causing trouble,” Minji continued, her voice tinged with bitterness. “It’s easy. It’s what I’m supposed to do. But this? Trying to be better? Trying to be someone worthy of a guardian angel?” She shook her head. “It’s terrifying. And I guess... I use jokes to cover that up.”

Y/N felt her heart soften, her earlier anger dissipating like mist in the sunlight. “Minji,” she said gently, stepping closer.

The demon glanced up, her dark eyes filled with an uncertainty Y/N had never seen before.

“You’re not a failure,” Y/N said firmly. “The fact that you care enough to even try says more about you than you realize.”

Minji let out a soft laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. “You’re way too nice to me, angel.”

“Someone has to be,” Y/N replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

They stood there for a moment, the tension in the room shifting into something lighter, warmer.

“You know,” Minji said, her usual playfulness creeping back into her tone, “if you keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you like me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that followed. “Don’t push your luck.”

Minji grinned, her confidence returning in full force. “Noted. But I’m still counting this as a win.”

“Of course you are,” Y/N muttered, though her tone was more fond than annoyed.

As Minji flopped back onto the rug with an exaggerated sigh of relief, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a small spark of hope. For all her flaws, Minji was trying—and maybe, just maybe, they were both learning something from each other along the way.

--

Y/N: “Alright, Minji. We’re starting simple. Hand this bread to that old woman. It’s an act of kindness. Easy, right?”

Minji: grinning “Piece of cake!”

Minji confidently strides toward the woman but trips on her own shoelaces. The bread flies out of her hand, soars through the air, and lands directly on a pigeon, sending feathers flying.

Old Woman: shocked “Good heavens!”

Minji: holding up her hands “I-I can explain! It’s… artisanal pigeon bread?”

Y/N: facepalms “We’re off to a great start.”

Minji turns back with a sheepish smile, while the old woman cautiously retrieves the bread and pats the dazed pigeon.

--

The celestial garden was tranquil, a lush expanse of flowers in shades of soft pink, lavender, and white. The air felt like it was laced with magic, as though the very atmosphere itself was imbued with a sense of peace. There were flowers that bloomed with each step, a testament to the care the celestial beings had for this space. Birds with iridescent feathers flitted through the trees, singing melodies that resonated with the purest notes of heaven.

But despite the serene beauty of it all, Minji was nowhere near as calm as the surroundings. Her shoulders were tense, and she had been pacing for the past several minutes, her footsteps light on the soft grass but full of restlessness.

Y/N watched her from a distance, her hands clasped behind her back, her gaze soft but observing. Minji’s usual playful demeanor was absent, replaced with a kind of anxiety that Y/N wasn’t used to seeing.

“Minji,” Y/N called out, her voice carrying through the quiet garden. “Are you alright?”

Minji froze mid-step, glancing over her shoulder to meet Y/N’s eyes. The playful, mischievous spark that usually danced in her gaze was dimmer, replaced by something Y/N couldn’t quite place. She straightened up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” Minji replied, though her voice sounded strained. “Just thinking.”

Y/N frowned, stepping closer. “You’ve been thinking for a while now. What’s going on?”

Minji turned away slightly, looking down at her shoes, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. There was a discomfort in her posture that made Y/N’s heart twinge.

“I… I’ve been thinking about this whole ‘trying to be good’ thing,” Minji admitted, her voice quiet. “I know I’m supposed to be working toward becoming a better demon so I can go to Heaven, but it feels like… like I’m just not good enough. You know?”

Y/N’s heart ached at the sincerity in Minji’s voice. For all the jokes and playful teasing, Minji was still a demon, and demons were supposed to be bad. But Minji wasn’t like that. She was far from it.

“Minji,” Y/N said softly, walking up to her and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to be perfect. You’re already more than enough just as you are.”

Minji blinked at her, the vulnerability in her eyes surprising Y/N. The words seemed to hit her harder than expected, and for a moment, she seemed unsure of how to respond.

“I know I’m not perfect,” Minji said quietly, her voice breaking just slightly. “But sometimes… I just wish I could be more than what I am. More than just a demon.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the admission. She had known Minji was struggling, but hearing her admit it out loud made it all feel so much more real. The weight of the situation was sinking in, and Y/N wasn’t sure how to ease it.

“You’re already more than a demon, Minji,” Y/N said, her tone gentle but firm. “You’re kind, you’re sweet, and you have so much to offer. You just… you just don’t see it.”

Minji let out a breath, glancing away as she bit her lip. “It’s hard to believe that when all I’ve ever been told is that demons are supposed to be bad. It’s hard to believe that when I can’t even seem to get anything right.”

Y/N frowned, her hand still on Minji’s shoulder. She gently squeezed it, trying to offer comfort. “That’s because you’ve been listening to the wrong people.”

Minji looked up at Y/N, confusion written on her face. “The wrong people?”

Y/N nodded, smiling softly. “You’ve been listening to the voices that tell you you’re not good enough. But the truth is, you’ve always been good enough. You just have to believe it yourself.”

Minji stared at her, blinking slowly as the words sunk in. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. For a long moment, they just stood there, the weight of their conversation settling over them like a warm, invisible blanket.

Y/N didn’t know what else to say, but she didn’t need to. The silence between them was comforting, as if they both understood without having to explain it all.

Finally, Minji broke the silence, her voice small but sincere. “I’m really trying, Y/N. I want to be better. I want to be… I don’t know… worthy of something.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She could feel the sincerity in Minji’s words, the vulnerability that Minji rarely showed. It wasn’t easy for her to admit these things, and Y/N felt honored that she had.

“You are worthy, Minji,” Y/N said, her voice soft but steady. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You just need to be you.”

Minji’s eyes softened as she looked at Y/N, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Y/N replied without hesitation.

Minji’s expression shifted, something warm and tender flickering in her eyes. “You’re the first person who’s ever told me that. Maybe I can believe you, just this once.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat at the sincerity in Minji’s voice. She hadn’t realized how much Minji needed someone to see her for who she truly was, not just as a demon or a failure, but as a person.

For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, the air thick with something unspoken. The warmth in Minji’s gaze made Y/N’s chest tighten, and for a fleeting second, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she was starting to feel something more for this clumsy, sweet demon who had wormed her way so deep into her heart.

Minji’s lips parted as if she were about to say something, but then she hesitated, glancing away nervously. “I, uh… I just… I’m really glad I met you, Y/N.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her heart thudding in her chest. “I’m glad I met you too.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Minji’s lips quirked into a playful grin. “So, does this mean you’ll finally admit I’m the best demon you’ve ever had?”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle at her persistence, the tension between them momentarily lifting. “You’re getting there, Minji. But I’ll need a bit more convincing.”

Minji’s grin grew wider, and Y/N could see that playful spark returning to her eyes. “I can work with that.”

Y/N laughed softly, but the warmth in her heart remained, a quiet reminder that she was beginning to care for this sweet, imperfect demon in ways she hadn’t expected.

And for the first time, she felt a little less like an angel tasked with saving someone and a little more like someone who might just be falling for a demon who was trying to find her way.

--

Y/N: “Alright, Minji, this is simple. We’re just going to help that little kid with his lemonade stand.”

Minji: grinning “Got it. I’m a professional.”

Minji, in her excitement, lunges forward—only to knock over the entire lemonade stand, sending cups and lemons flying everywhere. The kid stares at her, wide-eyed, as Minji awkwardly picks up a cup, trying to salvage the situation.

Minji: blushing “Um, it’s... uh... It's the thought that counts, right?”

Y/N: facepalming “I can’t even. Just, let’s go before we cause a lemonade disaster of biblical proportions.”

--

The human realm’s sky was a canvas of brilliant oranges and pinks, the sun dipping lower with every passing second, casting a warm glow across the meadow. Y/N found herself still standing beside Minji, her gaze lingering on the horizon, lost in the beauty of the scene. It wasn’t often she had the luxury of these quiet moments, especially not with a demon.

Minji, however, seemed more fascinated by the reflections in the sky than the tranquil scene itself. She stood with her arms crossed, her usual playful grin on her face, as though the sunset was just another background for the ongoing banter.

“So,” Minji finally spoke, breaking the silence with a lilt in her voice. “You like sunsets, huh?”

Y/N looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “That’s what you got out of all of this? Not the philosophical contemplation of life or the beauty of nature?”

Minji shrugged, her smile widening. “I’m a simple demon. I see a pretty view, and I think—‘Hey, nice view.’”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “That’s one way to put it.” She turned her attention back to the sunset. “I guess I do like sunsets. They remind me that even after the toughest days, the world still turns, and there’s always something beautiful to look forward to.”

Minji turned to her, eyes glinting with mischief. “A little poetic, huh? I didn’t know I was assigned to an angel with such a soft side.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm slightly, and she shot Minji a glance. “What about you, Minji? What do you think about sunsets?”

Minji leaned back slightly, contemplating the question with a furrowed brow. “Honestly? I think it’s the best time to sneak into a party.”

Y/N blinked, confused. “A party?”

Minji gave a teasing smile. “Duh. The sun’s setting, it’s cooler, and you can sneak in unnoticed. That’s like, demon 101.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her absurd logic. “I don’t think that’s what sunsets are about, but okay.”

Minji smiled slyly. “Well, I’m all about the chaos, you know? I think life’s more fun when it’s unpredictable. You should try it.”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “I don’t know if I want to try your version of chaos.”

“Oh, come on. Just a little fun never hurt anyone.” Minji’s voice softened as she looked out at the sky again. “Maybe you could loosen up a bit. Life doesn’t always have to be so serious.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “I’m not that serious.”

Minji raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curling upward. “No? I don’t know, you’ve got this whole angel thing going on. It’s kinda hard to imagine you cutting loose.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, Minji continued with an unexpected sincerity. “But I guess I do get why you like sunsets.”

Y/N paused, looking at Minji. “You do?”

Minji nodded, her eyes flickering over to meet Y/N’s. “Yeah. I think they remind me of... new beginnings, or something. The day ends, and even though it’s kind of sad, you know there’s always tomorrow. It’s like, a reset button.”

Y/N was surprised by how deeply Minji spoke, her usual playful demeanor giving way to something more thoughtful. “That’s... a nice way to think about it.”

Minji shrugged, a small smile playing at her lips. “I’m full of surprises.”

Before Y/N could respond, Minji’s voice lightened again, shifting the mood. “But I’ve gotta admit—if I was assigned an angel like you, I’d be pretty intimidated.”

Y/N tilted her head, curious. “Why?”

Minji grinned. “Well, you’re all virtuous and perfect, and I’m, you know, a mess.” She gestured vaguely to herself, as though the idea of her being a demon was self-evident.

Y/N laughed, unable to suppress it. “You’re not a mess, Minji.”

Minji smiled at her warmly. “You know, you’re probably one of the nicest angels I’ve met. But I think... I think I want to do more than just be nice. I want to be something more, Y/N.”

Y/N blinked, sensing the deeper undercurrent of what Minji was saying. “What do you mean by that?”

Minji hesitated, her voice quieter now. “I guess I want to show you that I can be good. That I’m more than just a demon, that I’m worthy of—” She cut herself off, not finishing the thought.

Y/N felt a tug in her chest at the vulnerability in Minji’s words. She stepped closer, her voice soft but steady. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Minji. I’m here to help you, no matter what.”

Minji’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, it felt like the world around them stilled. “I know, but... I want to be better for you. And for myself.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the sincerity in Minji’s eyes. She didn’t expect this conversation to take this turn, but there it was—Minji, the demon who had been nothing but playful and mischievous, showing a side of herself that was raw and real.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the words hanging in the air.

Finally, Minji broke the silence with a mischievous smile. “Well, enough of all that deep stuff. I’ve got something to show you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Minji pointed toward a nearby bench where an elderly woman had just dropped her purse. “Watch this.”

With a dramatic flourish, Minji strutted toward the bench with purpose, ready to help. But as she reached for the purse, her foot caught on the edge of the bench, and she toppled forward, knocking the purse even further away.

Y/N couldn’t help but watch, wide-eyed, as Minji scrambled to pick up the purse, all the while giving Y/N a sheepish smile.

“I swear, I’m getting better at this,” Minji said, grinning from ear to ear.

Y/N crossed her arms, smirking. “If this is your idea of helping, I think we need a new plan.”

Minji stuck out her tongue, playfully unbothered by the failed attempt. “Hey, at least I tried.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but deep down, she couldn’t deny how endearing Minji’s clumsiness was. There was something about her sincerity, even in the face of failure, that made Y/N’s heart soften.

“Maybe next time, I’ll let you handle the helping part,” Y/N teased, her voice laced with affection.

Minji looked at her with a mischievous grin. “Oh, I’m pretty sure we both know who’s actually in charge here.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

Minji winked, stepping closer. “Yeah. But hey, let’s see who can be better at helping next time.”

Y/N shook her head, unable to hide her smile. “You’re impossible.”

Minji’s gaze softened, and she took a small step closer. “But you like it.”

And for the first time, Y/N couldn’t find it in herself to deny it.

--

Y/N: looking exasperated “Okay, Minji. The goal here is simple: just get the coffee order right. We’re helping someone, remember?”

Minji: enthusiastically “Got it. I’m a professional!”

Minji confidently strides over to the counter, only to slip on a spilled coffee bean, sending an entire tray of drinks flying. She spins around, eyes wide in disbelief.

Minji: “Well... uh, I still got the coffee to them, right?”

Y/N: facepalming “Minji, what is happening?!”

Minji: grinning sheepishly “Hey, I’m learning, okay?”

Y/N: laughing despite herself “I think we need a new approach. Fast.”

--

The celestial courtroom shimmered with ethereal light, the walls made of translucent crystal that refracted rainbows across the grand space. Y/N stood beside Minji, her usually composed demeanor fraying at the edges. She clasped her hands tightly, resisting the urge to reach out and give Minji’s arm a reassuring squeeze. After all, this was Minji’s moment to prove herself—not hers.

Minji, on the other hand, looked... well, like Minji. She shifted on her feet, her trademark grin masking the nervous energy practically radiating off her. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her jacket as if she were trying to channel her jitters into motion.

“Kim Minji,” Seraphiel called out, his voice resonating like a choir of bells. The head angel’s towering presence dominated the room, his six majestic wings folded neatly behind him. “You stand before us today to demonstrate what you have learned. Your task is not to impress us but to act with true kindness and compassion. Do you understand the gravity of this moment?”

Minji swallowed audibly, nodding. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Seraphiel said, gesturing with one glowing hand. “Your trial begins now.”

The crystalline floor rippled like water, and the courtroom dissolved into a new scene: a quiet park in the human realm. Birds chirped in the trees, and the scent of blooming flowers hung in the air. On a bench sat an older woman, her posture heavy with sorrow. She clutched a small bouquet of daisies in her hands, her knuckles white against the stems.

Minji glanced at Y/N, her playful bravado slipping as genuine uncertainty crept into her expression. “What do I do?” she whispered.

Y/N tilted her head toward the woman, her tone soft but firm. “You listen. You help her, Minji. And this time, don’t think about how you look or what you’re supposed to say. Just... be there for her.”

Minji nodded, taking a deep breath before approaching the woman. She hesitated for a moment, then lowered herself onto the bench, leaving a respectful amount of space between them.

“Hi,” Minji said, her voice unusually gentle. “Are you okay?”

The woman looked up, startled by the interruption. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face lined with grief. “Oh,” she murmured, blinking at Minji. “I’m fine, dear. Just... remembering someone.”

Minji’s brow furrowed. She glanced down at the daisies, then back at the woman. “Someone important?”

The woman nodded, her lips trembling. “My son. He... he passed away a few years ago. Today’s his birthday, and I always bring him flowers.”

Minji felt a lump rise in her throat. She looked down at her hands, unsure of what to say. She had faced countless situations in her demonic existence—trickery, chaos, even outright danger—but nothing had prepared her for this.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

The woman’s gaze softened, though her sadness remained. “It’s kind of you to say that, but it’s okay. It’s been a while. I just... miss him, you know?”

Minji nodded slowly, her usual wit and humor nowhere to be found. “Yeah. I get it.” She hesitated, then added, “I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone, but I know what it’s like to feel like you’re not enough. Like you’re just... stuck with all these feelings, and you don’t know what to do with them.”

The woman’s eyes widened slightly, her expression shifting from sorrow to understanding. “That’s... that’s exactly it,” she said softly.

Minji bit her lip, her usual confidence completely replaced by vulnerability. She reached out, her hand hovering awkwardly before resting lightly on the woman’s arm. “I know I can’t make it better,” she said, her voice trembling. “But maybe you don’t have to carry it all by yourself. Even if it’s just for a little while, maybe someone else can help.”

The woman’s eyes filled with tears, but this time, they weren’t just tears of grief. She nodded, a faint smile breaking through her sadness. “Thank you, dear. That means more than you know.”

From her vantage point, Y/N felt a surge of pride so intense it made her chest ache. Minji wasn’t just fumbling her way through this trial—she was truly connecting with someone, showing a depth of compassion that even Y/N hadn’t fully expected.

As the scene began to dissolve, returning them to the celestial courtroom, Minji turned to the woman one last time. “Happy birthday to your son,” she said softly.

The woman’s smile widened, and then she was gone, the trial complete.

--

Back in the courtroom, Seraphiel rose from his seat, his expression unreadable. “Minji,” he said, his voice resonating through the space. “You have shown not only kindness but also vulnerability—a willingness to meet someone where they are, even when it is uncomfortable. You have passed this trial.”

Minji blinked, her mouth falling open slightly. “Wait... I did? I passed?”

Y/N laughed softly, stepping forward to stand beside her. “Yes, you passed, you ridiculous demon.”

A grin broke across Minji’s face, the tension in her shoulders melting away. “I knew I could do it,” she said, though the lingering disbelief in her tone betrayed her.

Seraphiel nodded once, his stern expression softening just enough to be noticeable. “You have a long way to go, but this is a promising start. Continue on this path, and you may surprise even yourself.”

As the courtroom dissolved, leaving Minji and Y/N alone in a quiet celestial hallway, Minji turned to her angelic companion, her grin now tinged with something softer.

“You were watching me the whole time,” she said, her tone teasing but her eyes warm.

“Of course I was,” Y/N replied, rolling her eyes. “I’m your guardian angel. It’s literally my job.”

Minji stepped closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Maybe. Or maybe you just couldn’t look away because you think I’m amazing.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, but she refused to give Minji the satisfaction of a flustered reaction. “Don’t push your luck,” she muttered, though her small smile betrayed her.

Minji chuckled, the sound light and carefree. “You like me, admit it.”

Y/N sighed, her smile widening despite herself. “Maybe a little,” she admitted.

Minji’s grin grew, and for a moment, the space between them felt charged with something unspoken. But then Minji pulled back, her expression shifting to something more genuine.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said softly. “For believing in me.”

Y/N’s heart swelled. “Always, Minji.”

--

Y/N: handing Minji a bag of dog treats “Okay, this one is easy. Just feed the puppies and make them happy. No tricks, no chaos.”

Minji: grinning “Puppies? Piece of cake!”

Minji kneels down and starts handing out treats, but one overly enthusiastic dog jumps on her, sending the bag flying into a nearby fountain. Chaos ensues as dozens of dogs dive into the water, barking and splashing everywhere.

Y/N: facepalming “Minji! How do you even manage this?”

Minji: shrugging sheepishly, now drenched and surrounded by soggy dogs “At least they’re having fun?”

--

The celestial bridge sparkled with an ethereal glow, its silvery surface shimmering as Minji took her first steps onto it. Above her head hovered the faint outline of a glowing halo—a symbol of her achievement and transformation. Around her, angels and celestial beings clapped politely, their approving murmurs echoing through the boundless expanse of stars.

Y/N stood off to the side, her wings glowing faintly with pride and relief. She had watched Minji grow from a bumbling, mischievous demon into someone who had not only embraced kindness but had become an embodiment of it. The sight of Minji, radiant with her new halo, made Y/N’s chest swell with a warmth she couldn’t deny any longer.

As the ceremony concluded, Minji walked over to Y/N, her familiar playful grin firmly in place despite the solemnity of the event. “So,” Minji said, tilting her head up to indicate the halo, “how do I look? Angelic enough for you?”

Y/N snorted softly, shaking her head. “You’re still you, Minji. Halo or not.”

Minji’s grin widened. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Come on,” Y/N said, motioning toward a shimmering portal that led to the Garden of Eden. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Minji followed without hesitation, her wings fluttering slightly with each step. As they passed through the portal, the lush expanse of the Garden came into view. Vibrant flowers bloomed in every imaginable color, their petals shimmering like jewels. A soft, golden light bathed the landscape, and the gentle hum of celestial energy filled the air.

Minji’s eyes widened in wonder. “Wow. It’s beautiful.”

Y/N led her to a quiet corner of the Garden, where a small stream trickled through a bed of glowing moss. They sat down together on a stone bench, the silence between them comfortable but charged with unspoken emotions.

“Minji,” Y/N began, her voice unusually soft. She stared down at her hands, unsure how to begin.

Minji tilted her head, her playful smile fading as she noticed Y/N’s serious expression. “Hey,” she said gently. “What’s on your mind?”

Y/N hesitated, then looked up to meet Minji’s gaze. “You’ve come so far. Watching you grow, seeing the way you’ve embraced kindness—it’s been incredible. But that’s not all.” She took a deep breath, her wings shifting slightly as if to steady herself. “Somewhere along the way, I realized that I... care about you. A lot more than I’m supposed to.”

Minji’s eyes widened slightly, her mouth parting in surprise. “Y/N...”

“I know it’s not exactly in the rulebook,” Y/N continued, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “But I can’t pretend anymore. You mean so much to me, Minji. More than I ever thought possible.”

For a moment, Minji was silent, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face—a smile so warm and genuine that it made Y/N’s heart ache.

“Y/N,” Minji said softly, her voice almost reverent. “I’ve wanted to hear those words since the day we met.”

Y/N blinked, her blush deepening. “Wait, really?”

Minji laughed, the sound bright and melodic. “Of course. Do you know how hard it was not to flirt with you every second of the day? Well, harder than I already did, anyway.”

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Minji’s smile softened, and she reached out to take Y/N’s hands in her own. “I’ve felt the same way for a long time. You’ve seen the best and worst of me, and you’ve never given up on me. How could I not fall for you?”

Y/N’s heart raced as Minji leaned in closer, her wings unfurling slightly behind her. Their faces were just inches apart, the golden light of the Garden casting a soft glow over their features.

“May I?” Minji asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, her breath hitching.

Minji closed the distance between them, her lips brushing against Y/N’s in a kiss that was tender and electrifying all at once. Y/N melted into the moment, her wings unfurling fully as a sense of completeness washed over her.

When they finally pulled apart, Minji rested her forehead against Y/N’s, her smile radiant. “So... does this mean I’m officially your favorite assignment?”

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Don’t push it.”

--

Minji: holding Y/N’s hands dramatically “Y/N, will you do me the honor of being my one and only angel?”

Y/N: deadpan “Minji, we’ve literally been dating for two minutes.”

Minji: grinning “And they’ve been the best two minutes of my life.”

Y/N: groaning “You’re insufferable.”

Minji: winking “But you love me.”

Y/N: sighing but smiling “Yeah, I do.”

[reminiscingtonight]

arsenal, hoodies and hickies for tobin! (bonus if shes still playing for them and maybe dating someones sibling)

Spill The Tea (Alessia Russo x Press!Reader)

A/N: changed the req a bit bc there is no Tobin without Christen so I made the reader Christen’s sibling

“Is this something I’m going to need to tell Christen or can I trust you to be a responsible adult?”

There’s this thing with Tobin. Ever since she started dating your sister all those years ago, she’s really slipped into the role of the fourth older sister you don’t need. 

While she isn’t as nitpicky as Tyler and Christen or as interrogative as Channing, Tobin still liked to harp on you quite a lot. So you’ve heard this question come out of her mouth more times than you can count. And by now you know better than to expect Tobin to keep a secret from Christen.

You tilt your head towards her, a singular eyebrow raising up in question as your arms stay halfway through your training shirt. Of all times Tobin could’ve started a conversation of course she had to wait until you were quite literally trapped with nowhere to escape. 

“Why do you think I have anything to tell you?”

“You have a hickey the size of Maine on your neck.”

You follow her eyes down to your skin. Your still very bruised skin. 

The memory of mischievous eyes sparkling as you tried to sneak out this morning flashes clearly through your mind as you hastily pull on a neck warmer from your cubby.

You can still feel Tobin’s eyes on the side of your face as you try to busy yourself pulling on the last of your clothes. 

“You’re seeing someone, don’t lie.”

“And why do you think so?” You look up to see Tobin giving you a look. You roll your eyes. “Apart from the hickey.”

“You’re really going to make me play detective today?” When you don’t respond Tobin lets out an annoyed grunt. “Where to start? Well you’ve been sneaking in at 6 in the morning for the past couple of weeks.”

It’s not your fault you haven’t been given a drawer yet. Frankly the number of times you’ve stayed over should’ve already gotten you a place to store your things but Alessia’s been extremely paranoid about letting you leave traces of yourself at hers. Something about how her England teammates like coming over unannounced. A lot. Better to keep no trace of you at her place lest a blabbermouth blabbers too much.

“And changing your phone password? Not cool, dude.”

You cringe at the memory of Tobin storming into your room at half past twelve the other day, exasperated at the fact that a). you weren’t up and making her breakfast yet, and b). she couldn’t get into your phone to doordash some food.

You and Tobin shared everything. Cooking duties. The occasional snapback. Your phone passwords. But that last one was the first thing you changed when you started seeing Alessia. 

“And finally, this,” Tobin pokes at the light blue hoodie peeking out of your duffle, “is not yours.”

You try ducking under her arm to get out of the locker room but Tobin grabs a firm hold of your training top, jerking you back towards her.

You’re nose to nose now and the forward has no problem using her height advantage to stare you down. “I’ll ask again. Who have you been locking lips with?”

You scowl. “Well you’re playing detective today right? Guess.”

Tobin’s lips pinch shut, a displeased look on her face.

Before she can retaliate, a brief call of her name by Kim has Tobin turning away. When her hands loosen their hold, you bolt, taking full advantage of Tobin’s brief dip of attention.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of blue eyes follow you out of the room.

It isn’t until you’re already stretching on the sideline that long legs catch up to you. A soft smile breaks onto your face at the sight of other girl, hands opening and closing as you mime at her to come closer for a kiss.

For a second you think Alessia's going to crumble to your demands. 

And then you see her panicked expression.

“Did Tobin figure out we’re dating?”

Sighing, you push yourself off the ground, taking care to brush grass off your legs. “No, Tobin’s smart but she isn’t that smart.”

Alessia gives you a look that has you wondering if she’s offended on the behalf of the striker. 

You roll your eyes before giving her a light shove. “Relax, all she saw was your hoodie. She’s not going to know it’s yours.”

Alessia’s eyes widen at the mention of the sweatshirt you snuck out of her house this morning. Usually it’s cute and all and she really does love seeing you in her clothes, but faced with the fact that it’s branded with the UNC logo on the front? Or the fact that Tobin knows you followed in Christen’s footsteps and went to Stanford instead of Chapel Hill? 

“My hoodie? Babe! Of course she’s going to know it’s mine!”

“Relax,” you repeat, hands coming up to rub at her tense shoulders. “There are four of you who played at UNC who are on the team now. She’ll be too busy trying to figure out if it’s you, Lotte, or Foxy to ever find the real culprit.”

If anything, your words only seem to agitate her more. Alessia slaps your hands away, arms crossing over her chest. “You’d rather Tobin think you’re dating Lotte or Em over me?”

Safe to say, any words you try to defend yourself with only digs you deeper into the hole.

Tobin’s pleasantly surprised to see you moping on the couch later that night.

.

It doesn't take as long as you’re expecting for Tobin to figure it out.

You’re doing your weekly check-in with your sister a couple days later when Christen’s face suddenly widens into a teasing smirk. 

“So Tobin tells me you have a new girlfriend.”

You resist the urge to fling your phone across the room. Instead, you do the mature thing and hang up the phone.

Christen doesn’t look impressed when she calls back and you pick up. 

“Oh don’t be a wuss. There’s nothing you can do without me knowing. So spill. Tell me all about her.”

 You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Really, Chris? This is what you want to talk about?”

Even from a continent away you can see the megawatt smile being sent your way. “Couldn’t take my number so you had to take out a girl who has it too, huh?”

Tobin cringes in her room when she hears the telltale sound of your phone crashing against the wall.

[heavenbarnes]

under no circumstances did your simon want anyone from work knowing you existed.

far as the 141 (or anyone vaguely military) were concerned, simon was single.

when johnny tried to play matchmaker, he just assumed simon was guarded. when gaz harped on about this girl from his gym, he just assumed she wasn’t his type.

the boys lived with illusions of simon returning to an empty, sterile, sad excuse for a home. hardly a home, probably a shoebox of an apartment with the bare basics of furniture.

maybe a rhythmic drip of a faucet to keep him company.

never even an inkling of an idea that he might be coming home to you.

you who kept the home clean, but lived in- warm and loved in. soft things at every corner, soft bed you both slept in, soft couch for him to hold you on. doesn’t smell sterile, smells nice, smells like-

well, you.

it wasn’t shame, embarrassment- if he could, he’d tell any poor sod who’d listen just how much he adored you.

simon thought himself the luckiest fucker alive for even knowing you, let alone loving you. he’d die a thousand lonely times if he did anything to lose you.

safety.

“this job doesn’t lend itself to lovers” price’s voice had rung loud in his head.

he knew his captain was right, he trusted his word more than he trusted his own mind. but his captain hadn’t met you yet.

he hadn’t seen that look you could give him, fluttering lashes and a hazy smile. he hadn’t felt the way you held him, when the days were long and his actions were unforgivable.

he didn’t know that you’d forgive every terrible thing simon had ever done, without a second thought.

you weren’t just a lover, you were the start and end of it all. his big bang.

nobody was ever supposed to know you existed.

simon had been so careful, so fucking careful- he’d suffered days and nights keeping your existence secret. it still wasn’t enough.

it wasn’t johnny’s fault, he didn’t blame johnny but that was one person who knew you in the greater context of “ghost.”

one too many.

“d’ya know L.T’s got a pretty thing at home?”

gaz had laughed, laying another card on the table as he did it.

“and who’d that be? her majesty the queen?”

price even snorted a chuckle out his nose, surveying the hand he was sure to play.

“wouldn’t give me a name, all he’d give me w’sweetheart”

“simon’s got a sweetheart named sweetheart? yeah, and i’ve got a chance at beating the captain”

sweetheart.

security measure two, when the first fails. no names, an alias that was easy to remember. no slip ups.

thankfully, everyone thought johnny had been chatting shit (as he often did) and didn’t care to push further.

but rumours only grow.

simon felt like he was living his life checking around corners. he was used to it at work, but when he was home he was meant to be free.

he couldn’t breathe knowing you could be compromised- that there was a chance he could lose you when he feels like he only just found you.

and when you were finally compromised? hell hath no fury.

there was only one option, they wouldn’t stop hunting you. they knew you were the only thing simon was scared to lose. to him, there was no other way.

price’s hands might’ve shook as he placed the folded flag in your hands, royal blue and silken. returning his mask to its rightful home, skull plate staring back at you.

where his eyes should be.

“if there is anything we can do”

all you could do was a blank stare right through him- show no emotion, show no fear. simon’s words were banging around your head.

that unmistakable feeling of eyes on your back as you retreated, carrying what was left of “ghost” back to your home. to your bed, military corners still tucked perfectly.

gently laying the flag to rest, running the mask through your fingers. what could a ghost really feel like?

bringing it to your lips, pressing a sweet kiss to its centre- where you usually might, before you’d send him off to fight for his country, always assuming he’d come home.

he’d been so careful, it wasn’t enough, everything had changed.

he had to change.

he let you pull the mask over his face, tracing the shape of the skull under a gentle finger tip. standing on your toes to press a kiss-

right between the eyes.

“something isn’t right, he kept this secret damn near the whole time we knew him- he dies and suddenly it all falls in our laps?”

gaz and johnny tailing price as he tore through the base, your file tucked under his arm. thin wee thing that it was, barely enough to piece together an idea.

might as well be chasing ghosts.

“simon sacrificed his life to keep that one safe, why the fuck would he let the details out? when he’s not alive to protect-“

the door was nearly off its hinges with the three men bursting through, putting the fear right through the wee thing at the desk.

“where are simon riley’s ashes?”

“oh, i’m sorry- they’ve already been claimed”

“who? by who?”

whilst the poor girl was gingerly sliding the record towards price, johnny was letting himself into the back room. a space that’d once contained simon’s urn, empty spare the twisted plastic full of fine grey dust.

“cap’n, you’re gonna’ want t’see this”

gaz was nearly vaulting the counter, snatching the ashes out of johnny’s trembling hand.

men with precision aim reduced to a murmur.

“who the fuck did we cremate?”

both men looking to their captain for- for what? help? a fucking clue as to what they’ve really got themselves into?

no use.

price was running a finger down the log book, settling on the name “simon ‘ghost’ riley.” signed out within the hour, only thing left being some poor fucker’s ashes and a set of initials.

signed out by S.H

S.H

sweetheart.

[troublesomesnitch]

Make Your Hands Unclean

Aemond x Wife!Reader - Period sex drabble

Premise and bits of dialogue shamelessly stolen from The Borgias.

Contents: drabble, pure filth. Menstrual sex, p in v, anal touching, graphic imagery. Internalised misogyny and harmful attitudes towards menstruation. Aemond is an asshole. Porn with weird plottish vibes.

Words: 2300

idk what this even is, this thing kind of wrote itself and I just went with it. It is kind of a mess tbh.

You were supposed to marry a lord.

That is what you were raised for, and those are the skills you were taught. To sing, to dance, to play the harp; to make yourself look pleasant. Your septa taught you to sew, and a woman from Essos taught you to weave, and in the afternoons the maester taught you history and linguistics, astronomy and arithmetic, and other things that ladies rarely speak about, but nevertheless must learn. 

For it is the lady, not the lord, who runs the castle. Who manages the household, and oversees the people it employs. Such a lady must ideally be both kind and commanding, generous and frugal. She must know how to handle serfs and noblemen alike, and she must be proficient in numeracy; able to record expenses and perform difficult calculations. 

To be a prince’s wife requires no such skills. 

This castle already has two queens, and besides it is not for royal women to concern themselves with practical matters. There are ladies-in-waiting for that, and stewards, chamberlains, maids and matrons; an army of servants hundreds strong to ensure that you may always be spoiled and idle. More than a lady, but less than a queen, left to twiddle your thumbs and wonder when, if ever, the oppressive walls of Maegor’s Holdfast will begin to feel like home.

You do not like it here. 

The days are long in King’s Landing, and the air is foul, polluted by the smoke of ten thousand hearths, by the stench of filth and unwashed bodies. It seeps through every crack and crevice, and you like the early mornings the most, when a cleansing mist blows in from the sea, and the ship’s bells ring over Blackwater Bay. 

Your husband rises early too, though it is for different reasons. Prince Aemond adheres to strict routines, to noble pursuits and rigorous discipline. He is exactly as people say: a stoic, severe in both temper and countenance, condemning indulgence and deriding depravity. 

Yet for all of his moral posturing, he does seem to have developed a taste for it rather quickly. 

You couldn’t say the exact number of times the prince has had you, but it has been many, and often, and in every position imaginable, and you dutifully report it all back to your family. As they have instructed you to do.

Before you were sent off to the capital, you were relentlessly reminded that there will never again be an opportunity such as this. That a marriage to a royal prince is a rare honour for your family, and one that was only made possible because the crown finds itself at war. Your house is not a great one, and your father is not the noblest lord, but he is very wealthy. And on the field of battle, wealth does tend to triumph. 

You do not know what other promises were made, what lands or titles were negotiated. Only that so much now depends on you; on your ability to please your husband and give him healthy children. Preferably male, but even a daughter would markedly strengthen your position. So you play your part as best as you can , and you pen your secret letters, divulging all the details of your intimate affairs. That the prince sleeps with you frequently, and seems to find great pleasure in it. That he performs his movements to completion, and expends his semen inside your body. 

It is a grave responsibility to have on your shoulders, and you were utterly crushed when you woke to find your insides churning, and your sheets stained with blood. 

They will be most displeased, your mother and father. Your brothers and uncles, and your cousins too. Prince Aemond's seed has not yet taken. 

-

In the evening he knocks on your door. Two determined raps, and you are thoroughly surprised. Your maid will have told his mother of your ailment, and she will have told him, and he too must be disappointed. But you know it is the prince, for there is no one else who would visit you at this hour. 

You know very well what he has come for, too. 

“We can’t tonight,” you sigh. 

“And why is that?” he says, amused, as if the idea that you would refuse him is ridiculous. 

“My blood - I am bleeding.”

Prince Aemond hums, but he walks to your couch and begins to undress himself, unbuckling his doublet and unlacing his breeches, tugging off his boots while you wring your hands. 

He can’t be serious. He can’t mean to take you like this. 

“It’s not - it isn’t proper,” you protest. “Our maester said it is ill-advised - most men find it unclean - “

“I am not most men,” he scoffs. 

There is no arguing against that, and he says it with all the confidence of someone who knows it to be true. Aemond is a royal prince. A dragonlord, a scion of a greater people. Second to no one but his king and brother, and if he wants to get himself all bloodied, then you suppose that is his right. 

He rids himself of his undershirt, and you reluctantly move to the side to let him join you in bed. It isn’t proper, but your insides flutter when he pulls you against his naked body, letting you feel the warmth of his skin, his manhood against the back of your thigh. It is hard, and twitching when he runs his hands over your figure, your breasts and your stomach, your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs -

“No, you mustn’t - ” you squeak, but he rucks your gown up anyway and slips his hand in between your legs.

You are wet there, with blood as well as with desire, and you can feel the stickiness when he spreads your lips, curving his fingers and sliding them back and forth along your slit. His breathing is hoarse just from caressing you, from feeling your wet, your warmth, your little swollen nub begging to be touched. You whimper when he circles it with the gentlest of strokes, light and teasing, until you arch your hips up in frustration and breathe oh please. 

Prince Aemond likes it when you beg. Only then does he press down, but not enough to bring you to a peak. Just enough to make your insides tighten, and more blood gush from your womb.

You always did find it strangely beautiful, the blood of your cycle. Deep maroon, and scarlet red - but you are ashamed to see it coating the prince’s fingers when he withdraws them. It is thick, and clotted, and he takes a moment to study it before he wipes his hand clean on your shift. 

“Are you not displeased with me?” you whisper. He should be, given that you have failed to conceive. That there is no way of knowing if you can bear children at all. 

“One mere month is not cause for concern,” the prince says. 

You breathe a faint sigh of relief. It is a comfort to know that at least your husband doesn’t hold your failure against you - yet. 

He tugs on your shift, eager to expose your body, but you cross your hands over your chest.

“Let me keep it for tonight,” you plead. 

You can’t rid yourself of the thought that you are unclean, and you would feel so much more at ease if he didn’t see your heavy, aching body. But you don’t want to entirely deny him access to it, either. Seeing as you are bleeding, the chances of begetting a child are small, which means that his wish to sleep with you must come from genuine desire rather than obligation. And that makes you very happy, as you imagine it would any wife. 

You will make sure to include it in the next letter you send back home. Hopefully it will lessen their disappointment. 

The prince looks somewhat displeased, but he lets you keep your dress, resorting instead to bunching it up around your waist. He is stern, but never cruel to you, even if he does pull at the neck to bare more of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, and then his hand moves downward again, and you throw your leg over his hip to give him more room to touch you. 

This time he does it properly. His fingers find your pleasure right away, and he swiftly brings you to your rapture, impatient as he is to have you. It leaves his hand stained and tainted, and once again he wipes it off on your shift, but this time you don’t care. 

With the position you’re in, it is easy for him to crawl over your leg and take his place between them, and he kisses you as he presses against you, deeply and hungrily, rocking his hips, his manhood throbbing and leaking between your legs. 

Your parts are soaked, but he is careful when he pushes inside. Despite the prince’s relentless pursuit of knowledge, he must not know all that much about a woman’s blood, at least not in practical terms. Where it hurts, and how much, and whether this intrusion will make it worse. You can’t hold it against him - you don’t believe there are many scholars who would want to write about the topic, and how then was he supposed to learn?

“Harder,” you pant, and he obliges, moving faster and pushing deep inside. 

You let him find a steady rhythm, hooking your legs over his hips, and letting your hands wander over his body while he has his way with you. You stroke his balls, imagining that what he keeps inside will take root in you. You pinch his nipples, all hard with pleasure, and you slide your hands down to his lower back, to the base of his spine, where the skin is dusted with downy hairs. Where you can feel each of his thrusts; the rolling movements of his hips, the rhythmic clenching of his buttocks. 

Your dainty touch makes him shudder, and you move your hands to his arse, and then further still, slipping your fingers in between his buttocks. To where he is warm and tender, and where his skin starts to pucker. 

It is filthy, the way he twitches there. The way he throbs. A dirty place to touch, and a sinful thing to do, but you have found that the prince likes it. No added pressure or attempts at entry, just gentle strokes with the tips of your fingers. Soft caresses over his opening. 

He buries his face in your neck and groans, and you can feel that he is nearing his peak. His movements are fast and shallow, his chest heaving and slick with sweat. 

“Yes, my prince,” you whisper. “Fill me with your seed, put a son inside me - “

He likes that. He hisses loudly, gripping the headboard for purchase, and you look up at him when his hips stutter. Prince Aemond’s face is always handsome, but never more than when he is on top of you, in the throes of ecstasy. His brow is furrowed and his eye squeezed shut, and the tension in his body makes the damaged side of his face convulse, his lip twitching up towards the scar. 

He wouldn’t like for you to see that, but in this state he does not feel it happening. 

You lie still as he peaks, allowing him to rut into you wildly, groaning and grunting as he spills his seed. Hot, and wet, and adding to the mess inside you. He lies limp on top of you to catch his breath, and when he finally withdraws, the blood is everywhere. On his softening organ, on his sack, and crusted to the soft hairs on his thighs. 

“I’ve made you dirty,” you state. 

“Yes, you have,” he says. “In more ways than one.” 

You look the other way to give him some privacy when he rises to tidy and dress himself. On your wedding night he stayed with you until the morning, and he has done it a few times since, but it is not a common occurrence. Prince Aemond prefers to sleep alone, and your mother chastises you for that too. She says that to rouse a man’s desire is less than half the battle, and that you must make your husband love you.

Of course if it were really that simple, then there would be no unhappy marriages and no children born as bastards, and if you knew how to make a man fall in love, you would be the richest woman in all the world. 

But you must at least try. 

“Won’t you stay with me?” You ask. “It is - important, for a woman to be embraced - to be treated gently, afterwards…”

“Next time, I will,” he says. And that is the end of that, for you will not stoop so low as to beg for his company. 

He smoothes out his shirt and pulls on his breeches, and you sit up and comb your fingers through your tangled hair. When you look down there are stains on your sheets, and a thick rosy fluid trickling out between your legs. 

“You may want to abstain from riding,” the prince says over his shoulder. “It is known to upset the balance of the womb.”

You nod, bound to obey what is clearly a command posing as a suggestion. 

“Did you know,” you muse, “that the blood of the womb is the only blood that is not born from violence?”

Prince Aemond looks at you with a thoughtful expression, one that suggests he had in fact not considered that before. 

“Quite the philosopher you are,” he remarks, with a little raise of his brow. Coming from him, that is the highest praise. 

It does not change his mind about staying, but he does press a noble kiss to your temple before he leaves you. Sore and bloodied, but content. 

You did well tonight. 

Notes

“Most men find it unclean/I am not most men” is from S1E7 of the Borgias. 

“Menstruation is the only blood that is not born from violence and yet it’s the one that disgusts you the most” is a quote by artist Maia Schwartz. I couldn’t find any more information about her unfortunately. 

Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness.

[pelova4president]

pretty fangirl

socials

Kyra Cooney-Cross x FamousMusician!Reader

~

y/n_y/l/n posted on their story

kyracooneyx, arsenalwfc

liked by y/n_y/l/n and 729.827 others

North London is welcoming another Aussie. Welcome Kyra Cooney-Cross.

comments

stephcatley oiii oiii she’s heree 💛💚

caitlinfoord there she issss

wrightyofficial 🔥🔥

stinaballerina1 can’t wait to see the aussies play together

sechalfsenal best signing this season fr

y/nsingzz y/n what’re you doing hereee

↳ arsenalll11 she is in London recording a new album soooo who knows..

y/n_y/l/n posted on their story

y/n_y/l/n posted on their story

y/n_y/l/n posted on their story

kyracooneyx

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 82.382 others

my people my home <3

comments

y/n_y/l/n cute 😍

victoriapelova oeh la la!!!

caitlinfoord so the mysterious girl got to see sydney

leahwilliamsonn backstage privilege 🙄

kcclessiii who’s that in pic 1??

↳ peado9 kyra’s gf probs

y/nmusicupdates SHE’S WEARING THE BIRKENSTOCKS ON Y/N IG STORY

↳ bestofy/l/n they’re soooo dating

↳ ars3nalkyra y/n posted that she’s in Australia too, they have to be

y/n_y/l/n

liked by caitlinfoord and 492.829 others

head over 👠s

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stephcatley puppy love 💗

billieeilish so ready for our concert next month!!

sukiwaterhouse you should be my tour guide in Aus

↳ y/n_y/l/n you can borrow my local tour guide

florencepugh love love

y/n4lifee omg who is she kissing in pic 4??

↳ ausarsenal32 looks like kyra cooney cross

katrinagorry10 posted on their story

y/n_y/l/n

liked by katie_mccabe11 and 528.720 others

pretty girl at my concert

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leahwilliamsonn since when are you dating fans??

↳ y/n_y/l/n the only exception

kyracooneyx love you sm pookie 😘

↳ y/n_y/l/n ew don’t call me that

↳ kyracooneyx rather i call you dookie?

y/nfiles I KNEW IT OMG

arsenaly/n the IT couple

kyracooneyx

liked by clairo and 217.839 others

secret’s out, my not so mysterious girl

comments

katie_mccabe11 sneak me in back stage next time 😘

victoriapelova gross 🤮

↳ kyracooneyx you’re gross xx

y/n_y/l/n harper’s a little artist

↳ kyracooneyx i helped her, where’s my credits harps can’t even write marriage 🙄

↳ stephcatley you’re fighting like a married couple already

↳ katrinagorry10 we’re proud of you too ky don’t worry

samanthakerr20 lookin’ good

y/nxxkyra i love them with my whole heart

aus3nal3 y/n needs to perform in the Emirates

[novaursa]

The Gods Are Cruel (and so is he)

- Summary: Maegor always thought of you. Even when you were convinced he had forgotten you.

- Paring: niece!reader/Maegor I Targaryen

- Note: This story captures Maegor's inner struggle and events before Fire and Blood.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

For as long as Maegor can remember, you have been the one thing denied to him. He’s conquered kingdoms, brought men to their knees, and ruled with the iron will of a dragon. But he cannot have you. His own father, King Aegon, forbade it. “She’s your niece, Maegor. There are limits, even for us.” As if the blood of the dragon were not meant to twist and coil upon itself, strengthening the line.

You’re the second-born daughter of Aenys, the weakling king who, even now, sits the Iron Throne in pitiful splendor. His half-brother’s mewling reign grates on Maegor’s nerves, but it’s the distance between you that fuels his rage. You’re imprisoned on Dragonstone, hidden away like a relic too precious to behold. And for what? To preserve your innocence? To keep you untouched by his flame?

His hand tightens around Blackfyre’s hilt as he recalls the way you looked at him, the first time your eyes truly met. You were but a girl then, your hair falling in soft waves of silver down your back, your eyes wide with awe and fear. A look that has haunted him ever since, seeping into his dreams, twisting his desires into something darker, more dangerous. He dreams of you, night after night, your body beneath his, your mouth forming his name like a prayer. You, the one thing he cannot have, the one thing he would raze cities to possess.

And yet, you are kept from him. Aenys has you guarded like a treasure, a pawn in his political games. The gods themselves conspire against him, placing you always just out of reach. He has seen you only in glimpses now, from across the court or from the back of his dragon, Balerion, circling above Dragonstone like an unholy sentinel.

What do you think of him? He wonders, in the quiet of his chambers, when even the echoes of war fall silent. Do you fear him, as the rest do? Or do you feel it too—the pull between you, the force that binds your fates as surely as dragonfire and blood?

His first wife, Ceryse, lies cold and untouched in his bed, her barren womb a constant reminder of the child he was never meant to sire with her. He took her as duty demanded, but his heart—and his loins—have always belonged to you. A woman he could mold, could teach, could keep. In his darkest thoughts, he imagines how your skin would feel under his hands, how your breath would catch as he whispered your name. Y/N.

Does your heart beat faster when you think of him? Do you lie awake at night, wondering if he’s thinking of you, too? You must. You have to. Because if you don’t, what is left for him? What can satiate this unquenchable thirst that rages through him, consuming him like wildfire?

The gods mock him with every breath you take beyond his reach. They have shackled him to a woman who cannot bear him heirs, as if to deny him the legacy he was born to create. They have put you on Dragonstone, behind walls and guards and duty, as if they think any of that could hold him back forever. But he will have you. His father’s wishes, Aenys�� weakness, the gods themselves—none of it matters. You belong to him.

In his mind, he sees the two of you, alone in the Dragonmont, the heat of the beasts around you only heightening the fever that pulses through his veins. He would take you there, make you his in every way, his hands on your skin, your nails in his back. The thought is almost unbearable in its intensity. But it is only a dream, a hollow mockery of what he craves.

He remembers the song you played once, in the Red Keep, your fingers dancing over the strings of a harp. It was a haunting melody, something about love and death entwined, the lyrics slipping from your lips like smoke. It was not for him—you hadn’t even known he was there—but he felt the words like a dagger in his chest. The horror of his love. A love that destroys, that devours. And yet, he would have it no other way.

You are the one thing that could calm his rage, and the one thing that stokes it to an inferno. He could burn the world for you, if it meant seeing you by his side, wearing his crown, carrying his children. He would destroy anyone who stands in his way, even the gods themselves. Because you are his, and he is yours, no matter how high the walls they build between you.

The gods are cruel. But so is he. And he is patient. For now.

But not forever.

Exile is a bitter draught, and Maegor tastes its poison on his tongue every day. Here, across the Narrow Sea, he is surrounded by false smiles and sharper knives, an unwelcome guest in a land that does not know the fire of dragons. He is supposed to be broken, he thinks. This was Aenys' intent—to crush his spirit, to strip him of power and keep him from you. It should have worked.

But Maegor is not so easily broken.

Every day he is here, he feels you slipping further away, like water through his fingers. Every day, the distance grows, a chasm that he fears even a dragon’s wings could not cross. You must think him weak now, to have been cast aside, to have failed in taking what is rightfully his. Do you believe the stories? That he is a monster, a madman, unworthy of the blood in his veins?

He paces the halls of this foreign stronghold, his mind churning with thoughts of you, of the night they took you from him. He had almost had you, his hand outstretched, your name a growl on his lips, when Aenys’ guards pulled you away, your eyes wide with something he cannot name. Fear? Betrayal? Desire?

Aenys had raged at him, his voice trembling with a fury Maegor had never thought his spineless brother capable of. “You will not touch her! Do you hear me, brother? I will not let you taint her with your madness!” As if your purity were some fragile thing, as if you were not a dragon yourself, with fire in your blood.

His exile was swift, the king’s command carried out by his lapdog lords who dared not look Maegor in the eye as they escorted him to the ship, bound for a land that does not know him. Aenys spoke of protecting you, of preserving the fragile peace between the Crown and the Faith. He was terrified of another rebellion, afraid that Maegor’s obsession with you would shatter what little stability he had managed to cling to. The Faith would rise against such a union, scream of abomination and blasphemy, and the weak-willed sheep of Westeros would follow.

And so, Maegor was sent away like a common criminal, the dragon without his fire, the beast without his prey.

But what they do not understand, what even you perhaps cannot see, is that this does not break him. No, this only feeds the flames, stokes the hunger that gnaws at him day and night. In his solitude, he thinks of you, of the way your lips parted when you spoke his name, the tremor in your voice as you told him to stop. And beneath that tremor, beneath the fear, he heard something else—something that made his blood burn and his pulse quicken.

You want him. He knows it, has seen it in your eyes, in the way you cannot help but look at him when you think no one is watching. It is a look he has seen before, in women who knew the danger of wanting a man like him, who knew the risk and were drawn to it all the same. But you—you are not like them. You are his niece, his kin, and that only makes the desire more potent, more twisted.

It is as if the gods themselves crafted you to tempt him, to drive him to madness. They dangle you before him, a prize he cannot claim, and laugh as he claws at the edges of sanity, his mind unraveling with every thought of you. Y/N, the name a whisper on his lips as he dreams, a curse and a prayer all at once. He imagines you as you must be now, cloistered away on Dragonstone, your beauty kept hidden from the world, your spirit shackled by duty and fear.

What do you think of him now, your would-be captor, your would-be king? Do you despise him for his failure, for letting them take him from you? Or do you still dream of him, as he dreams of you, your hands reaching out in the darkness, your voice calling him back across the sea? He would come for you, if he could. He would set fire to this whole wretched land if it meant seeing you again, holding you, tasting the lips that have haunted him for so long.

But no, he is here, caged by exile, by duty, by the very blood that runs through his veins. Aenys thinks this will keep him at bay, that distance and shame will cool his fire. A fool’s hope. Every night, Maegor’s dreams grow darker, his thoughts more twisted, until he no longer knows where desire ends and madness begins.

He thinks of what he would do, if you were here now. How he would take you in his arms, heedless of your protests, your pleas. You would fight him, at first—he knows you would. But he would not stop. He would crush every barrier, break every rule that the world has placed between you, until there is nothing left but the two of you, entwined in a knot of blood and fire and desire. He would teach you what it means to be his, to be bound to him in a way that no one, not Aenys, not the gods themselves, could sever.

And would you love him, then? Would you finally see him for what he is, for what he could be to you? Or would you still fear him, still see him as the monster they have all made him out to be? It does not matter, he tells himself. Love, hate—they are two sides of the same coin, both burning with the same intensity. And he would have either, or both, if it meant having you.

He will not stay here forever. This exile is a cage of straw, and he is a dragon. One day, he will break free, and when he does, he will come for you. No more half-measures, no more hesitant glances and whispered promises. He will take you, as he was meant to, as he was born to. And if the world burns for it, so be it.

The gods think they can keep him from you. But he will show them the folly of trying to chain a dragon. And when he does, he will take back what is his, with fire and blood.

The wine in Pentos is bitter and thin, a poor substitute for the strong, dark vintages of home. Maegor swirls the goblet, his gaze unfocused, the liquid rippling like the storm inside him. He’s been here for what feels like years, a dragon caged, his wings clipped. Exile is a wound that festers, seeping poison into his thoughts, breeding resentment, rage—and longing. Always longing.

He imagines you on Dragonstone, your days spent looking out over the sea, wondering if he’s forgotten you. Do you think him weak for not returning, for letting Aenys and his lapdogs banish him so easily? The thought of your disappointment, your disdain, cuts deeper than any blade. He should be there, should have fought harder, should have…

The door to his chambers bursts open, and his hand flies to Blackfyre’s hilt, the dark thoughts scattering like smoke. But it is no assassin or enemy lord. It is Visenya, his mother, sweeping in like a tempest, her eyes alight with a fire he hasn’t seen in years. For a moment, he thinks he is dreaming. Visenya, the indomitable, the iron queen who shaped him, forged him in the heat of her will and her ambition. The only one who has ever understood him, who has ever truly known him.

“Mother,” he breathes, his voice rough from disuse.

She crosses the room in a few swift steps, her presence as commanding as ever. There is no preamble, no softening of the words that follow. “Aenys is dead.”

The goblet slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor, the wine spilling in a dark pool at his feet. Dead. The weakling king, the half-brother who took everything from him, who caged him in this foreign land and kept you locked away. Dead.

“How?” he asks, his voice a low growl, his mind reeling. This changes everything. The iron bonds of exile shatter in an instant, and all the bitterness, all the rage that has been festering in his heart explodes like wildfire.

“His own weakness killed him,” Visenya says, her lip curling in disdain. “The Faith rose against him, the realm crumbled around him, and he could not hold it together. He was never fit to rule. He left the Seven Kingdoms in chaos.”

And you. What did he leave you with? A kingdom in ruins, a throne contested, and you still locked away, still untouched, still denied to him. Maegor’s blood boils at the thought of it, at the thought of you alone on that bleak island, your beauty hidden from the world, your spirit shackled by a man too weak to protect what was his.

“He is gone,” Visenya continues, her voice hard as steel. “The throne is yours, Maegor. But you must act. The lords will not sit idle; they will scheme and plot and raise their banners for Aenys’ wretched brood. You must return, and you must take what is rightfully yours.”

The throne. The Iron Throne, forged by fire and blood, by the will of their house. But more than that—more than crowns and kingdoms and power—there is you. The promise of you, the dream that has tormented him in the long, empty nights of exile. He sees it all, now, with a clarity that almost blinds him. Aenys is dead, the gods have finally relented, and the path to you is clear.

He rises from his chair, his eyes fixed on Visenya’s face. “And her?” He does not need to speak your name; they both know who he means.

Visenya’s eyes gleam, a predatory smile curling her lips. “You will have her, as it should have been from the start. She is your right, your reward. No one will keep her from you now, not the Faith, not the lords, not even the gods. You will take the throne, and you will take her.”

The words are like a balm, soothing the raw wound of exile, of longing. He sees it now, the vision of what could be, what will be: you, by his side, crowned in Valyrian steel and dragon’s flame, the blood of your enemies soaking the earth at your feet. His queen. His wife. The one thing denied to him, now within his grasp.

Aenys is dead, and with him, the last barrier between Maegor and the life he was meant to have. He will return, he will seize the throne, and he will take you. The thought of it fills him with a fierce, terrible joy. He imagines the look on your face when he storms Dragonstone, when he bursts into your chambers, his eyes wild with the need that has driven him mad for so long. You will fight him, at first, as you must. But he will not be denied. He will make you see, make you understand that you were always his, from the moment you were born.

He thinks of the song you played that day in the Red Keep, the haunting melody that still echoes in his mind. There is horror in our love, the words sang, and yes, there is. There is darkness, and fire, and blood. But there is also something deeper, something that binds you to him in ways you cannot yet fathom. He will show you, when you are his, what it means to love a dragon, to be consumed by the flame and not be burned.

He looks at Visenya, his heart hammering in his chest. “We go to Westeros. We take the throne, and I take her.”

She nods, the fierce pride in her eyes a reflection of his own. “Yes, my son. You will have it all.”

The gods have relented, have finally turned their faces from him and given him what he has craved for so long. The throne, the power, and you. His beautiful, stubborn, untouchable Y/N. No more dreams, no more whispered prayers to uncaring gods. This is destiny, and it will not be denied.

He is coming for you, and nothing—not lords, not priests, not the very heavens themselves—will stop him. You will be his, as you were always meant to be. And if there is horror in it, then let there be horror. Let the world tremble before the fire of his love.

Because he is Maegor, son of Visenya, true heir of Aegon the Conqueror. And he will have what is his.

[sunsetkerr]

KISS & TELL | s.kerr

summary: the girls find out exactly who gave you that ring [789 words]

pairing: matildas!reader x sam kerr

notes: the long-awaited second part to 'hush hush'! this was the most voted wip to work on, next piece will be too far gone which was the second most popular xx happy valentines week loves!

IT WENT ON FOR about a week.

Your teammates pestered you all throughout camp about who gave you your engagement ring, and most importantly, how you kept it a secret for so long.

You gave them bits and pieces. Oh, we've been together for a few years now, but we've just kept it private..... She's super busy lots of the time, really hectic work schedule...... We played soccer together growing up.... You just didn't relay that you still play together. That your fiancee actually captains you.

Sam was enjoying every moment of it. She loved the secrecy, she adored watching her teammates pull their hair out over it. Chids had a whole shared notes app dedicated to adding information about your dubbed, 'mystery woman'. Sam revelled in her new title.

She was feeling extra cheeky, there was no denying that. Sam was at her peak watching everyone scramble around, listening as you slipped out little pieces of information of your relationship together.

Did you feel guilty that you hadn't told your team? Sure. But you and Sam never really felt the need to. They're your family, you love them with your whole heart- but this was one thing you and Sam just wanted for yourselves.

"Well I want to help plan your hens night," Alanna shrugged. The topic of your secret engagement had come up again after dinner one night.

"No because I'm not going unless you tell us!" Macca argued from her spot on the beanbag, Harper on her lap. You laughed, crossing your arms and putting your feet up on the couch.

"We can do without the numbers, Mac" You waved her off.

"Hey Y/N?" Ellie walked into the lounge area looking for you. "Can I grab my pre-wrap from you tonight please? I wanna start packing for Queensland,"

"Always punctual as usual" Mini chirped from her place on the couch, your feet resting in her lap.

"Shut up" Ellie quipped.

You chuckled, "Yeah, let me go grab it". You headed off towards your room and managed to pinch Sam's ass on your way past her, distracting her from the in-depth conversation she was having with Steph.

You chuckled as she tried her best to ignore you, but you knew she could never. Once you got into your room, it was only a matter of seconds before Sam followed you in. She crept up behind you and snaked her arms around your waist, tickling you as she squeezed you tight.

"You're cheeky, hey" She laughed, kissing your cheek as you giggled and tried to push your way out of her grasp. She moved her way down to your neck and you tried your best not to squirm in pleasure, knowing that at any second anyone could come-

"Aunny Sammy and Y/N are kissing!"

Your heart dropped and you pulled apart from Sam. You both turned around to see Harper standing in the doorway, pointing at you and Sam who she had just caught in the act.

"Mummy!" She ran off, yelling down the hallway.

"Harps, Harper! No!" You called after her, running down the hallway. She was surprisingly fast for a near-three year old. By the time you managed to find her she was already halfway through relaying to your team what she had seen.

"They kiss! Sam and Y/N kiss like Mum and Mummy!" She smiled looking back over to you. Sam had now come up behind you, a guilty look on her face, your lipgloss smeared on her lips.

"Skip.." Mary spoke up, slowly looking from you to Sam. "Is that true? Did you kiss Y/N?" She asked a shocked look on her face. The rest of your team looked at you both in silence.

Sam begrudenly crossed her arms over her chest and nodded her head shyly, a smile breaking out on her lips. "She just got engaged, Sam.. Not cool" Mary shook her head.

"Oh my god," Alanna erupted.

"Are you serious Maz?"

"Jesus fucking Christ" Mackenzie put her head in her hands with a sigh.

"What?" Mary held up her hands, looking from everyone back to you both. Sam chuckled and stepped forwards, holding up your hand that dawned your shiny new engagement ring.

You saw the cogs turn in her head before they finally clicked. "Oh my god!" She screamed, rushing over to congratulate you both. The girls all followed suit, shouting at you both for keeping it a secret from them all for so long.

"I can't believe you!" Alanna hugged you from behind, her arms around your neck.

"I don't kiss and tell, Kennedy!" You smiled as you watched Sam explain to your team how she proposed. You were so happy to finally have your team in on your secret. It just made it all that much sweeter.