#she says shes too tired or too lazy to come along

[missazura]

I know that witches don't hex people bc what you give out onto the world will boomerang back to you tenfold but like. some people piss me off so fucking much I would like to cast gigaexplosion onto them for continuously hurting me

[netherfeildren]

FABLE OF THE DOG : 1. The Two Headed Calf

Series Masterlist;

Pairing: Joel Miller x FMC

Summary: Welcome home and buck up, cowgirl.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Slowburn(ish); Original Characters; Alcohol & Drug Use; Discussions of Grief; Daddy Issues; Graphic Descriptions of Vomiting; Description of a Dead Body; Death of a Parent; Parental Neglect; Older Man/Younger Woman; Jealousy; Past Teenage Crush; Unrequited Pinning; Yearning and Longing Galore; Boss’s Daughter; Complicated Family Relationships; A Home is a Place but ALSO a Person!; Found Family

A/N: Disclaimer, I know nothing about Wyoming and it’s geography, ranching, or being a cowboy and just made all this up. Any and all misrepresentations are fallacy of my laziness.

The FMC tag was decided because she has a last name. It was just too difficult for me to speak in depth about her father without giving him a name, and thus her one too. After that decision was made, she kind of went away from me and devolved into her own person who I have come to be quite obsessed with. It’s still written in ‘you’ format, anyhow.

I’ve been having a whole lot of fun with this, I hope you do too.

Word Count: 10K

Read on AO3

1: The Two Headed Calf

“She’s been shut up in that house goin’ on three days now, Joel,” Tommy says as the two brothers make their way across the lawn. 

The ride had been long and hard, and Joel is tired—he levels a dark look at him. “Just sayin’. Nothin’ you find in there’s gonna be pretty to look at.” He raises his hands in surrender at the brooding glare, that non-confrontational shrug that’s set Joel on edge since they were boys. 

“One of you’s should’a gone in there. Made sure she’s okay.”

“The housekeepers’ve been keepin’ an eye. And Frank tried to go in there and check on her himself, but she’s angry as a barn cat. Hissin’ ‘nd yowlin’, and just bein’ downright scary as hell, to be honest. You should be prepared is all I’m tryin’ to say.”

“Her father just died, Tommy. I’m not expectin’ pretty sights right now,” Joel gruffs, trying to swallow the panic that flutters in his throat as they crest the final hill up to the big house. 

The beautiful stone, oak, glass monstrosity that’s stood as monument to this place, this home that is not truly his, for over a decade now. The Kelly Ranch. The sky above is still a sultry, yawning blue, deep and tired, basking in the throes of dawn as the sun just now makes its way over the crest of the Tetons in the distance so that the house sits for just a moment longer in its pool of shadowed blues. 

Joel pauses on the border of that somber darkness, afraid suddenly of what awaits him inside; boots glued to the ground with the gum of cowardice. He doesn’t want to see her broken. He doesn’t want to see her hurting. But there’s no other recourse, he knows this. The death of the estranged father she’d fought with all her life, the inheritance of this world that seems suddenly too big for just one orphaned girl, all alone now. 

He’s afraid that he’ll walk into that house he’s always seen as other and home all wrapped into one—that Olympus that was so far removed and out of reach even when he walked through it’s halls to the man who’d given him sanctuary and salvation, to the man he knew mistreated her sometimes, didn’t love her enough—and not have the capacity to recognize her, this girl who’d always been familiar and stranger all in one also. 

Joel Miller suddenly feels afraid of the memory she exists as in his mind, in the face of the woman he knows she is now. 

When he lets himself in the back kitchen door, it’s still nighttime within. The cool dryness of the AC cranked up to inhuman temperatures makes him shiver once while sprouting a damp sweat along his nape. He should’ve showered before coming, should’ve washed the ride and the days of camp off his skin before walking into her presence, but all he’d managed were his hands and face. There’d been panic to make sure she was well, if not then alive, at least. But he should be more presentable for her. 

Hell, he should’ve been here for her when she came home for the first time in two years to the house where her father had died. He should’ve been here when the man died. 

But the herd had needed moving. He hadn’t thought it’d all happen so quickly, thought he had more time, that they all had more time. He’d hoped she wouldn’t return at all, if he was being honest. There was nothing here for her. Nothing except memories of a gilded and loveless, already motherless childhood. The reality of all she was set to inherit. The truth of an aloneness Joel didn’t know if she was prepared for. 

He moves through the house slowly, afraid to disturb the ghosts and the silence. The interior, immaculate and beautiful and solemn. Something out of a movie picture or the gloss of a magazine. Something covered not in dust but in sadness. The stairs are silent as his spinning mind makes up for the creak, the boots she’d sent him on his last birthday hit the richly piled rug at the top, and the hallway to the bedrooms yawns long and frightening in front of him. Two grand a pop, the boots—Lucchese, he’d looked them up on the iPhone she’d sent him the year before. A gift giver, generous to a fault, kind to a detriment. She sent something to all the ranch hands that’d worked for her father since she was a girl. Something for the entire ranch at Christmas. And all he managed each time was a perfunctory thank you card, like he did every year because he remembered, years ago, in her little voice, polite people send thank you notes, Joel, my grandmother told me so. Last year he’d written that they were too much, that she shouldn’t have, that he was grateful. There wasn’t much else to say. 

That was the extent of their communication, familiar and stranger in one, the far removed golden child of the Kelly. They’d all called him that, the Kelly, for as long as he’d known the man. As if he was some Scottish laird of old, ruling over his clan and half the world. Egotistical, was what it really was. He’d thought himself a god among men, in the face of his only child. Ridiculous was what Joel saw it all for, a put on play, a farce.

And wonder of wonders, she was entirely unlike him because of course she would be. Of course a man ruled by nothing more than ego and narcissism had been sent his polar opposite in the form of his only child. Kind hearted, was what she was—sending him a birthday gift every year. Remembering them all here always no matter how far she’d gone. He sent her a thank you note for each benevolence in return, a word of respectful gratitude for the fact that a person like her could ever remember a dog like him. 

Sometimes, Joel had wanted to go to him, the old man, Oswald Kelly, and ask him where his daughter was, why he wasn’t looking for her, keeping her closer, caring for her. He wasn’t the sort of man that could’ve ever understood such callous behavior towards one’s child.

The last time she’d been here, over two years ago: less than forty eight hours that had ended in screaming so terrible they’d all heard it down from the barn, sitting in uncomfortable, swollen silence, the spinning of tires ringing as she yelled at her father that he was never going to see her again, the man’s echoing laugh as she’d fled him. 

Joel hadn’t seen her on that visit, it’d been so quick and angry. Flying down on the jet from New Haven for her father’s seventieth birthday and not even making it long enough for the festivities. This was what her life was, as he’d observed it from a distance for all these years, the singular daughter of this great house, coming to her father, attempting joy and finding nothing but disappointment at the end of him. 

She’d been right, a knowing streak running through her. Kelly had never seen her again, and Joel didn’t know if the old man had regretted it or not, the anger and the estrangement and the lack of love. But the last time he’d spoken to him, hours before setting off on their move, the herd always came before everything else, the ranch was all that mattered is what the man had always said, with death scratching at the window, his frail and withered body licked down to almost nothing from the austere and imposing figure Joel had always known him as, he’d asked for her. His only child. Do you think she’ll come, Joel? The dying man had asked him. My daughter, do you think she’ll come see me? Joel had lied a lie he hadn’t known was one, said she would, that he’d call her as soon as he was back. 

In the end, he hadn’t even afforded her that decency, a personal call.

He comes to her open bedroom door now, pitch dark as grief within, and the stench of sorrow and liquor seeping from the living grave. He looks down the long and empty hall for a brief second, wishing it didn’t have to be him, that again, he didn't have to see her any way other than okay. And he realizes that there’s something about her, as she will exist now, that makes him cowardly. Something about this house without the man who’d granted him the absolution of a hiding place all those years ago, who’d understood and sheltered Joel in the midst of his own past grief, that makes him cowardly. The house feels wrong without Kelly within it, wrong with only her as its holder now. 

Joel steps into her dark, and it’s a battleground—

—You are silent and motionless in the blue room. 

Nothing of the gleaming splendor that dresses the rest of the home sleeps in here. There are clothes everywhere, an exploded suitcase lies open and massacred in the middle of the plush white rug, a turned over bottle of red wine bleeding into your clothes. Shredded pages with scratched on writing slashed across them, the dusted white mounds of crushed pills, as if you’d smashed each one individually beneath the thumb of your grief. The sight makes him more afraid, the scent of weed and cigarettes heavy in the air, as he takes the final step towards the wrecked bed, and a single small foot hangs limply from the edge.

He stares at it long and hard for a second, afraid, afraid again, still, of what he’ll find. He says your name once, short and gruff like a dog’s bark. It’s what he feels like. Animal, bestial, lacking any sort of cognizance amidst this minefield. His heart beats against his spine, and he thinks he should do something else, shake you, check for a pulse, his bones throb inside his skin. He needs to fucking move, but the smell of smoke is so cloying he’s choking on his own tongue. 

Your ankle twitches.

And Joel sucks in a sigh of relieved air without panic, saying your name again. His voice is level now, maybe gentle, no more barking dog. His eyes move up the length of one pretty leg, and then quickly, he averts his gaze when he gets high up enough he’s met with soft-creased asscheek covered in silk. Swallowing his tongue, his eyes roll in their sockets, looking for anything else to look at besides the sight of panty clad ass. He steps closer again, gripping the edge of the sheet to pull it over your scantily clad body, eyes flitting to the silver spun clock on the nightstand, the warm glow of the hall light shows that they have two hours to get you sober and presentable before the funeral. 

Joel should have been here. He does not feel that he is even here now. And the guilt eats at him like acid. The fear too. 

“Darlin’, you’ve gotta get up now,” he says softly, taking hold of your shoulder, scalded by the feel of fragile skin, realizing with the suddenness of a gunshot that you’ll be the Kelly now. He gives you a gentle shake, “We’ve gotta get you ready,” and his heart pumps blood like a machine. The sight of the dry liquor bottle toppled on the nightstand, the shattered glass glittering the floor in crystal, the empty pill bottles, it all taunts him. His guilt is a cacophony in his mind. He knows he’s going to have to stick his fingers down your throat, make you spit it all up, that you’ll hate him for all of this afterwards, but when his gaze meets streaked rust, dark and shocking against the white sheets, he’s kicked into terrified action. 

He turns you over, your head lolling sickeningly in unconscious stupor, hair a tangled mess strewn about your face so that he has to dig for your eyes, parting the curtains of your fringe to uncover you. He focuses on your closed eyes, the too long lashes clumped together, lips cracked and parched. 

He should’ve fucking been here. 

Smoothing his fingers along the lengths of your arms, he keeps his eyes on your face and averted from all the skin that keeps peeking out below, searching the divots and slopes of your arms for hurts. When he gets to your right hand, battleground of a long ago broken hurt, he finds the drying crust of blood, the ragged split in the soft, small palm, thankfully shallow.

 His eyes smart, looking down at the broken glass, feeling the tear in you. 

Gripping you gently below the elbows he pulls you into his arms, cradled like a child, light as loss. Your head lolls again, neck crooked at an unnatural angle as he carries you into the restroom, careful of your head, knocking the lights on and putting you down in front of the toilet bowl. He pulls your camisole to rights, making sure everything is covered, and gathers your mess of hair as carefully as he can, trying his best to not snag the fragile strands in his too rough hands, but gripping you firmly in position. And ignoring the sound of your awakening cry, he sticks two fingers into your slack jawed mouth and down your throat until he feels the hot rush of vomit. 

Crouching behind you, his thighs bracket you, keeping your form from slumping over as you empty the poison from your belly, flushing the alcohol soaked bile as you struggle. He wipes his messy hand on the leg of his jeans and rubs soothing circles on your back, his fingers woven through the soft silk of your hair to keep your head in place and your face clear. His heart thumps in rhythm with your heaves, your too quick, panicked breathing. There seems to be not enough oxygen for the two of you and your grief in the too small room of the commode, and Joel gasps like a dying fish, trying to swallow calm breaths. 

When you finally stop your heaving, you rest your arms at the edge of the gleaming porcelain, head hung low, defeated, wracked with shivers or silent sobs, he isn’t sure, a strange and horrible keening noise, so small he barely catches it, held in your throat. There’s the finest down of peach fuzz that covers the tender slope of your vulnerable nape, and it makes Joel feel suddenly, just as vulnerable, just as unprotected. At a complete loss for how to help you. 

“Finally decided to show your face,” you croak, voice ragged with your sick. 

His fingers tighten once around your shoulder, a panicked tick of reminder that he’s here now, that he’s him. “I was moving the herd. It had to be done. Your father, he—” he stutters, trying explain, tripping over his own guilt ridden words. “I didn’t think it’d happen now, so fast, that you’d get here so soon. I thought we had more time.” 

We. 

Your skin seems to cool by the second beneath his fingertips, and then you’re shrugging his touch away, huddling closer to the porcelain bowl, further away from him. 

“Get out.”

“Let me explain. I—” And he’s begging now. He can hear the note of it in his voice. Begging for forgiveness. For a chance. 

“I don’t want to see you.” You don’t say his name. “Get out.” It feels worse than anything. 

“I’m here now. I didn’t know— I didn’t think.” He reaches to grab for you again, but you turn to face him suddenly. Wiping the back of your hand against your mouth, pushing your heels at his shins to kick him away. Your eyes are red rimmed, the hollows beneath bruised with lack of sleep. But fire spits from the deep color, all anger and hurt. 

“Go deal with your fucking ranch,” you fling the words at him. “It’s all you care about anyways.” And they weren’t shivers, he sees now, they’re tears tracked as proof of all his guilt, all his lacking, along the slopes of your fine grained cheeks. 

Your, you say. As if this place and anything in it has ever been his. He’s never wanted any of it like that, only ever seen a thing that needed taking care of, and him, with the ability to care for it. 

“I needed you,” you whisper as if the thought comes along on a second wind of anger, a realization that sends your voice breaking, hitching, your chest caving in on itself as the tears come faster and faster now. “He’s dead, and I needed you.”

“I’m sorry,” he begs. “I’m so sorry.” His voice breaks now too. He thinks he’ll cry now too, for the man who he also lost, who despite it all meant something to him, as well. For you, who’s lost even more. For Joel’s own guilt. 

But he doesn’t think you see any of that, not his apology, not his regret, not his own grief. You turn away from him again, laying your temple down again on your forearm. “Get out. I’ll be ready soon.”

And so he goes.

-

Your father is made small and withered in death. 

One of the wealthiest men in the entire world. A stranger, a titan, a nightmare of a man. 

It wasn’t something you’d ever considered, that a human body could look so colorless and frigid and not alive. Like a shock or a ringing bell, it’s a realization that you’re an orphan now. That you’re all alone. 

You feel something like a memory of regret. Or something that’s like the idea that you should feel regret, that you should feel guilt for how it was between the two of you. But all that is overshadowed by the reality of what you weren’t. All you feel even more, or in actual reality, is the old loss of what you’d never been to each other. That, you realize, is the seed of your grief. That long ago wound, that child’s understanding that he wasn’t like all the other fathers, that he’d never care for you the way other children were cared for. 

Looking down at the frozen face that looks nothing like the one he’d worn the last time you’d seen him, the wispy thatch of hair that hadn’t been so jarringly white before sickness had ravaged his body, you realize that this is no new loss, it is only a continuation, a reopening of a very old one. 

The cavernous cathedral at your back is silent, vacated by the sea of people that had congregated here earlier. And with sickening curiosity, you uncoil an arm from where you’ve got it wrapped around yourself, reaching out to press a finger against the ice cold back of his hand. Shockingly not alive; he feels made of rubber. 

Everyone that’d been here to bid farewell to this behemoth turned slip of a man, to catch a glimpse of you, packed like teeth into Jackson’s grandest cathedral; business men and heads of state from around the world, the oldest family names in the country, figures of the highest echelons of wealth and society, vipers circling the barrel—half the world here to see this person who was supposed to have been your father but was really only a stranger. 

You take your hand back, and you don’t say goodbye as you turn away from his body. There’s no farewell to really tell. 

And at the back of the church, hiding in a bright ream of sunlight, Joel stands propped against the face of a saint. Dark and silent and maybe even more far removed than your dead dad. Watching sentinel. Oswald Kelly’s hovering man—come to watch over him one last time. 

The silk of your stockings slide against each other at the junction of your thighs, the hiss of your skirt around your calves as your reed thin heels click against the stone, and you pull your armor as tightly around yourself as you can. There’s a hollow echo inside of everywhere and everything, your mind like a gong, reverberating, and his gaze is so steady, hazel bright, deeply shaded by the lip of his dark hat, beckoning you towards him from beneath the brim. 

Large and strong and steadfast, your heart gives a painful, longing thump—stupid, writhing thing—and you can only bear to look him in the eye for a second, and if you were to really think about saying goodbye to that father that never really was, lying behind you, slipping further and further away, you’d say it to the man that always stood as his shadow before the world, before you ever said it to the man himself. 

-

The drive back home is cast in frigid silence and made all the more uncomfortable because you can practically hear Joel’s brain clicking and ticking away with worry. 

He’d sent your car and driver away with a harsh word while you collected your final goodbyes and words of respect from the last smattering of people congregated and waiting for the newly birthed heir to one of the greatest fortunes in the world. 

Hovering over your shoulder, he’d kept anyone from stepping too close or getting too friendly, so close you could feel the heat of his chest through the silk of your blouse, and then going suddenly full on aggressive when a reporter from the New York Times had approached, fishing for a quote on the future of the Kelly empire. Ushering you away with a hovering hand at the small of your back before the man could get half a question out, he’s opening the truck’s door for you as a haze descends over your eyes, the distant shutter and flash of cameras bursting in your peripherals, a latent hangover and sleep deprivation and not enough to eat in the last forty eight hours causing you to sag in his hold. Then it’s only his big fist wrapping around the span of your wrist as he lifts you into the truck, your eyes downcast and unable to take in sight or sound, vision all a blur. You murmur a barely there thank you with his hand fitting at the dip of your waist, big body blocking yours entirely from prying eyes trying to catch a glimpse or a stumble, and for a single second, your entire weight is suspended in his hold, allowing you to bypass the struggle of balancing your high heel on the step up, and then you’re sliding onto the leather of the seat, the whisper of your cashmere and silk rustling around you as he handles you like a child being spirited away from the scene of a crime. 

The door shuts gently behind you, face turned away from the flashing lights, the watchful eyes of the whole world, and worst of all, the assessment of his concerned gaze. All you’re afforded are thirty seconds of privacy to let out a single gasping sob. 

And now, an hour and a half of silent purgatory. 

You slip your heels off, flexing your smarting toes against the damp of your stockings and tuck your folded legs beneath you on the seat. Paying the frantic energy of his anxiety and lodged words no mind, you consider instead: your new reality. The burden of it all means very little to you now. The last of your worries is being readied for entombing as the two of you speed down the eighty nine, zinging past the bright Wyoming green. The thrum of his truck drowns out your thoughts, brand new, probably over a hundred grand, only the best for your father’s right hand man, and the Kelly Ranch insignia emblazoned proudly on the sides. A brand for the whole world to see just who exactly is being whisked away to her old home turned brand spanking new grave. 

You might be feeling a little bit dramatic. But then again— you’d just put your last remaining parent in an actual grave, surely that provides you some allowances. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his big paw gripping the leathered steering wheel in a death clutch, knuckles white with his frustration at the dilemma you pose, his own discomfort. You’re sure if he thought you wouldn’t catch him, he’d be squirming in his seat. 

You do something to him sometimes, you know this. Not in any way you’d like, not in any interesting way, that of a woman affecting a man, but something respectfully harrowing. Maybe something a little bit like fear. 

There has existed between the two of you, always, that strange intimacy of two people who’ve known each other for a very long time, and yet, have always remained at a far removed, arms length distance from one another. 

A professional intimacy of sorts. Your father’s foreman, shadow, fixer. The man who guarded that treasure trove you’d inherit one day, today; the thing your father loved most in the world. Two people who’ve known each other a long time, and yet, don’t really know each other at all. 

There has always been, however, the fact of the birthday. 

The birthday. Your birthday.

The way you’d latched onto that small, immense, detail when you’d first discovered it at fourteen, when he’d newly arrived at the ranch and the true weight of your first real crush had really hit you, it was probably not entirely healthy. But you’d thought yourself in love with your father’s man, the first figure of the male species who’d ever drawn your attention in such a way. 

He’d never paid you any mind; you were the boss's daughter, a figurehead or a responsibility, maybe a nuisance, although he’d never ever treated you as one. But the day someone had let slip it was his birthday, on the same day as yours, your teenage heart had swelled with the naive hope of fate. It was meant to be, the two of you were connected, so on and so forth, swallowed by girlish innocence and made buoyant by fantasy. 

But you’d had something to share with someone, which was what really mattered. Something tangible, even if only in your inexperienced little mind, something to wield as comfort so that the first time your father had forgotten your special day, fifteen, and what a tender age it had been, you’d had something to cling to. That's when your gifts to him had started. It was your way of making sure there was at least one person in the whole world who’d remember that was your day too. That you were alive, that you mattered. A reminder of yourself. And as the years and birthdays passed, sometimes, when he sent those coldly gracious notes of his, you’d wished you could’ve written back with honesty. Said something like, I’m so lonely, wish you were here, wherever it was in the world you’d found yourself at the time. 

And of course, he was gorgeous and older, strong and patient and capable, entirely unattainable. Impossible to forget. You’d gone so far, traveled wide, gotten yourself an overpriced education that would probably serve you for nothing, had lovers and parties and splendor, and always, you remembered your gifts for him, you remembered him. It was the single most important detail of your birthday every year. 

The leather creaks beneath his fist again, chapped knuckles set to burst before he flexes his fingers out, long and straight. Thickly built hands, strong, made for working or hurting, on a man who you’ve never seen be anything but stoically patient. 

He was strange in that way, neither wholly impulsive nor precisely intentional in his mannerisms. More so, it was that there was something extremely neutral about him, a middle buoyancy of personality. Strict with the cowboys, exacting, wielding his title as ranch foreman with an iron fist and your father’s blessing, and yet still, quiet, serious, with that patient gentleness about him. You’d seen it in the way he’d handled Ellie when she’d first come to the ranch, young and skinny with that hollow look of trauma kids who’d seen things they shouldn’t have shamed adults with. She’d been a little older than you, and with an air you’d not understood, a sort of lived past you’d been naive to the existence of, frightened when confronted by it, and yet inevitably, the two of you’d become fast friends eventually.

You’d even experienced it yourself, on two treasured occasions, that gentleness that you’d held onto for years. Nurturing the memory of him in your mind like a delusional bloom. 

He stretches his hand again, wheel caught between his thumb and forefinger, cinching it there, back and forth. His nails are meticulously clean, cut to the quick, and you imagine he must spend a great deal of time cleaning himself up when he works so hard at getting himself so dirty most days. 

You can see him sneaking glances at you, and he coughs once, a clearing of his nervous throat. Averting your gaze, you turn your face away so that you’ll be able to watch him through the reflection in the window. He monopolizes the space in the cabin of the truck, broad shoulders and hulking form, all the fine leather smell washed away in the scent of him. That bay rum aftershave he’s always worn, the one with the distinctive notes of bay leaf, cloves and citrus. An old fashioned scent, masculine and crisp. 

You’d snuck into the bunk once with Ellie, before he’d moved into the foreman’s cabin, before Switzerland, when the two of you were still girls running rampant and free through the ranch, clutching desperately at the last vestiges of any sort of happy childhood you could scrounge up for one another. You’d peeked in his things, found a whole world of Joel shaped curiosities. The glass etched bottle of aftershave, a hole spotted t-shirt with a burnt orange longhorn across the front, Flannery O’Connor’s The Complete Stories—something you found comforting, knowing he could read about the small, the freakish, real life; thinking that perhaps he was homesick for the comfort of the South, hungering for a taste of the life he’d had then, through books. And then, in a spine cracked copy of Suttree, the pages almost falling apart beneath your fingertips, dog eared and well loved, her picture tucked between the pages.

It had been the first time you’d done something you knew you shouldn’t have and actually regretted it, looking down at that green eyed photograph. 

You’d run back to your room after that, ashamed and something a little bit like jealous, desperate to know who she was, desperate for someone to keep a picture of you like that—as if they loved you. And years later, you’d found the scent for yourself. The little molasses glass bottle you still have and pull out on occasion, when you’re feeling extra bad, extra lonesome, extra far away from the whole world, just for a reminding of home. 

Beside you, he sighs again, coughs again, brings you back to himself and the present. Just spit it out already, you think exasperatedly, say something, anything else besides how sorry you are. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he starts, and you roll your eyes, scoffing quietly. 

“You already said that.” Sullen. Mullish. You wish you were a child who could still throw a tantrum and get away with it. Letting your eyes go unfocused from his reflection in the window, you brood at the sight of everything that’s yours now as he turns off the highway, passing below the iron eave of the Kelly Ranch entrance. Eight hundred thousand acres of pristine Wyoming land nestled into the deep valley surrounded by the Grand Tetons mountain range. 

“Well, I’m sayin’ it again.” He’s driving too fast, and you refuse to turn and look at his face. Your heart beats blood in your ears, and you screw your eyes shut to the dizzying blur of green legacy, not wanting to see any of it—him. 

Your belly swoops, going slightly nauseous and gurgling. 

“I didn’t think you’d get here so quick.” He swallows, “Hell, I didn’t think it’d all happen so damn fast.”

“I was already in New York,” you tell him, voice clipped with breathlessness. “I left Paris last week.”

“What? I didn’t know— I—”

“Why would you?”

“I would’ve called you. I would’ve gotten you out here quicker.”

“Ellie called. It’s better like this, Joel.” Finally letting yourself say his name out loud, it feels wrong and molten on your tongue, a heaviness being spit up from the depths of your stomach. “We don’t have to pretend anymore. He’s dead now.”

“There’s no pretending. He wanted to see you—”

“Please, stop.”

But he urges on unheeded: “He told me so before I left. Told me—”

“Stop,” you snap. Finally turning to look at him and hating him for it. For how gorgeous he is, for all the things he’s always made you feel for as long as you can remember what it was to feel something for a man, for all he did or did not have with your father when you had none of it or so much of an entirely different thing. “Stop. I don’t want to hear any of it. It doesn't matter anymore, Joel.”

“But you should know. You deserve to know that—”

“What?” Because that one hurts. “I deserve to know what?” That he actually had loved you but had just never been able to show it? That now it was too late? That the only person the great Oswald Kelly had ever been able to speak to of the supposed care he had for his only daughter was the hired help? You’d read once that one should never let their parents anywhere near their real humiliations. You’d tried your damndest to follow that as soon as you’d grown up. “It’s not your place,” you seethe with teeth bared, an animal shoved into a corner and made to fight for its life, deciding you won’t ever let Joel near them either.  

He spits a cursing, growled sound of frustration, but doesn’t continue. The two of you find yourselves at an impasse, and you turn back to your windowed mirror of him, eyes pinching hot, filling with tears. One of the things your father disliked most about you, your easy tears, and a single salt marred inadequacy tracks down the slope of your cheek, dripping off the edge of your jaw into the bandaged cup of your palm, and you breathe slow and measured through your open mouth, watching the fog cloud grow and shrink against the glass obscuring your vision of him. 

-

The last time you’d missed your mother, the one you’d never known, in any sort of real and true way, you’d been eighteen. Returning to an empty house after celebrating your high school graduation in a far off school, alone. 

In the midst of your sophomore year, you’d been sent away to a Swiss boarding school. It had been something worse than devastating, losing your life in Wyoming, the only home you’d ever know, Ellie, the other people on the ranch… But it was far removed enough that you couldn’t bother, where you couldn’t ask for things like attention or consideration. The education had been excellent, the upbringing desperately lonely ending on a whimpering sigh despite your many accomplishments. You’d wanted her very badly then indeed, your mother. To have been there, to have helped you pick your dress, kissed your cheek after watching you walk across the stage. To have wiped your tears when she told you that your father wasn’t there because he was busy managing the whole world, but that he was proud of you, that he’d have been there if he could. You’d wished she could’ve been there to lie to you so that you wouldn’t have needed to lie to yourself. 

Peering down from your balanced perch atop the deck’s bannister, you survey the deep bed of Lily of the Valley, destroyed beneath the vindictive soles of your bare feet. He’d planted them for her all around the house after she’d died, her favorite flower. 

You’d always hated them. 

And that was the thing of it all, which you’d learned when you grew old enough to recognize such things like disdain. He couldn't stand you because you reminded him of her. Clichéd and old and tired. An excuse for being a neglectful father. The daughter who was too much like her dead mother, and thus did not deserve to be loved. 

You tip your head back, nursing at the lip of fine aged Macallan, and the sky is a glass mirror of blackened silver streaks. You’re almost positive that all the stars in the Milky Way are visible from right here at this very spot in the heart of Wyoming. The sight makes your broken heart feel full and falsely mended. 

You’re certain you’re painting a pretty picture right now: tipsy on a bottle of your dead dad’s sacredly hoarded whiskey that probably cost as much as someone’s house, staring up at the stars in your newly inherited home with a whole unappreciated life full of possibilities ahead of you. Basking in the title of your newly minted— orphan-hood? Orphan-ness? A peer of the orphans. 

You snort softly, sucking on the bottle again, letting the heat of it settle in your belly, smolder in your heart. Your head feels full of bubbles and sugar and sad. 

There’s a part of you that feels a little ridiculous, despite the circumstances. You’re good at compartmentalizing, good at being objective of your realities. Obviously: sad because your father is now dead, and it’d been nine months and eleven days since you’d last spoken to him. Sad because he’d never given a shit about you. Sad because you’re alone, dumped by the stupid French jockey boyfriend who you’d not even liked very much, just a few days before this whole pathetic ordeal of acquiring your orphan-hood, yeah, that’s what you’re sticking with, had occurred. Not to mention the army of looming lawyers and financial advisors and various heads of business vying for your attention, waiting for the what next?

And Joel.

A one man army of looming Joel. 

So you’re feeling morose, blue, maybe a little spoiled, but brought low and cut short. Depressed and unsatisfied with your life thus far. 

Poor little rich girl. Poor little orphan. Poor little me.

What you want? 

Someone to care. 

Someone to love you. 

Hard to come by. Impossible to buy. 

The stars gleam purple silver, winking at you. The bracketing black so dark it swallows the eye. Another taste of the nutty bouquet of smoked apple oranges, and soon you’ll be tipsy enough you won’t be able to balance your butt on the bannister’s ledge anymore. Maybe you’ll go humpty dumpty over the edge and crack your skull against your mother’s valley of destroyed Lily’s. 

You laugh again with sound now, not crazy, only an orphan, ha, but you think that it’s only that it feels shockingly as if you’ve fallen through the surface of your life. As if you are still falling with nothing and no one to grab on to, to help stabilize you. A really terrible, shit-out-of-luck feeling. 

Your eyes continue their infernal leaking, and you blow your nose loudly on the inside of your sweater. You’ve given yourself three days to do whatever the hell you want, be as disgusting as you may. When the three days are up you’ll plan to get your act together, take responsibility and hold of your life and become the woman you should be. 

Who that is? Still being decided. 

You think that maybe you’ll buy another jet before that time’s up. Or an island. Something ridiculous. Maybe you’ll sell the goddamn ranch. 

You eye the dark rolling hills of the valley with seething suspicion. Let’s see what Joel says about that. You, marching up to the highway entrance and spearing a For Sale sign in the dirt of the largest privately owned cattle ranch in the continental United States. Way more than that God forsaken surly frown is what you’d get. 

So long, Joel, it’s been swell. I’m done with this place. It’s time to pack it up and find some new hunk of land to care about more than you care about me or anything else. 

Maybe you’ll be real funny and put up a Craigslist ad. 

And it isn’t that you don’t love this place, the only home you’ve ever known. You do. In a way that is passionate and consuming and irreconcilable. Everything about it, the serenity, the guarding mountains and the deep woods, the home you’d been born in, that both your parents had died in. You do love it in your way. 

It’s only that every man you’ve ever loved—loved—had always cared more about the place than he’d ever cared about you. 

For the longest time, most of your youth until you’d decided that you officially felt an adult, you’d thought you’d hated your father. There was just so much anger and resentment and the resound of his ever furious words and insults and endless disappointment. The echo of no mother ringing so loudly in your ears that the confounding feelings had all been mistaken for hatred. But with age and distance and life, you’d realized you didn't hate him. You never had. You thought, actually, and this was a very good and mature thought of yours, that you were the only person in the whole world that had ever seen him as only a man and not a god. 

He was only a man, full of greed and grief and missing the mother of the child he’d probably never wanted. Nothing more or less. 

Maybe it was that you felt sorry for him. Not in the way of pity, but in the way of one person feeling empathy for another in a clinical and helpless sort of manner. And a numb, detached sort of sadness. A longing for something that you’d never had and had always wanted but eventually learned to live without. 

Ultimately, his disappointment had turned on him, and now it was all you felt you had for him at the end of it all. 

But, for some reason, and an annoying one at that, you do think that, if you try very, very hard, you could bring yourself to hate Joel Miller. There’s satisfaction in that possibility, vindication—resentment that even now, as practically strangers, you know he’d be able to pull that sort of feeling out of you which could result in hatred. Something strong and overwhelming and not easily escaped. 

Your stomach rumbles, and you smile blithely at all your inherited legacy, filling the hollow with more drink. Three days to behave very badly, as badly as you can. The whiskey is so good, and swishing it around in your mouth, you tip your head back further, gurgling it loudly at the back of your throat. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

You jerk, scrambling to keep your balance, choking a little on smokey apples and your own spit. A trickle of the golden amber liquor drips out of the corner of your mouth as you find him hiding in the dark across the deck. Accustomed to drooling over him, you wipe it away with the back of your hand. 

“Having a party. Would you like to join?”

“Are you drunk again?”

Tough crowd. Ugh.  “Never mind. You’re not invited. Go away.”

“You need to go inside and go to bed.”

You tip your chin at him, putting on doe eyes. “Alright. And are you going to be my new daddy also?” You say in a baby voice.

Fucking Christ, you hear him whisper under his breath, turning away to run an exasperated palm over his mouth. Frustration seethes off of him like sulfur. He’s tired. Of you maybe. Of the whole circus this place has become in the past few days—and rightfully so. 

“What do you want? I’m extremely busy, if you can’t tell.”

“Just thought I’d check on ya.” Courteous, always the gentleman, bullshit. You roll your eyes at him. 

“I don’t need you to check on me.” And you, ever the child. One day you swear you’ll grow up. 

But it can’t be said that you’re entirely selfish either. You have considered the fact of Joel’s own grief at the loss of your father. After all, they’d been much closer than you’d ever been to him for many years. And maybe, in his own cold and removed and superior way, your father had seen this man who you’ve thought yourself in love with since you were a teenager, as something like a son. 

Probably, that’s just your own wishful thinking: that Oswald Kelly had ever been capable of such tender feelings.

Maybe the fact of Joel’s own grief is the thorn beneath your nail bed that’s making you so angry with him, so needing of his attention. Maybe it’s that he’d failed to fulfill your silly and girlish fantasy that upon receiving the news of your only remaining parents death, he’d have been here waiting for you, at this home he’d guarded for you for so long, ready to take you into his arms and console and care for you. 

When instead, he’d been off doing what he’d always done for as long as you’d known him. Protecting your father’s interests, his legacy. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?”

“How?”

“You, being difficult.” Driving me fuckin’ crazy— he adds again under his breath. 

“I’m an orphan now, Joel.” You’re becoming quickly addicted to the word. “I think I should be afforded a tiny bit of leeway to drive people fuckin’ crazy,” you mock his Southern drawl. Enough of your time had been spent in Europe over the past two years, kissing Europeans, that you’d sloughed off the last of your American twang; something of a vaguely European lilt peppering your words every now and then that Ellie likes to tease you for whenever the two of you speak on occasion. 

A muscle under his left eye twitches at the jab, and you take another deep swig of the bottle, provoking him with your gaze. Wishing you had whatever it is a woman needs to entice this man. Like the fucking vet. Fucking world renowned, brilliant, highly coveted, beautiful veterinarian. You know about her. You’re sure he thinks he’s been discreet over the years with their whatever they’ve had, Tess, but you know. 

Maybe you’ll be insane and irrational and possessive, taking advantage of your three crazy days, and fire her with your new found power. See what he has to say about that. Ha.

Ha. Ha. Ha. 

Obviously not. 

Despite your current hysteria, your goal is not to send the ranch head over heels into a tailspin.

But the imagining is soothing. 

“Want some?” You hold the heavy crystal out towards him in a peace offering, held precariously between two sweaty knuckles. “It’s probably worth as much as your truck. Would be a waste for me to finish on my own.” You eye what’s left of it, about half, and give him a sheepish grin. It really is very good. 

He looks at you for one long, solemn moment, always so silent and pensive, this strange enigma of a man. You get to watch in real time as he loses whatever fight it is he’s trying to fight against you, victorious when he shrugs and comes over slowly, resting his butt against the bannister—a carefully respectful distance away from you. 

When he takes the bottle from your swinging clutch, gripped from the base, careful not to touch you in any way, you see the real sad in his eyes. The dim lights bleeding out through the big windows of the family room without a family shine on his face in strips and bursts. A shadow here, golden warmth there. He’s got more lines around his eyes than you remember from the last time you’d been this close to him. Smile lines made bright white in the center and gold burnished at the edges from too much sun. There’s little bursts of silver threaded at his temples now too, a gleam here and there in his dark beard. Forty four years old, he’d turned on your last birthday. 

You dig your nails into the soft meat of your palms, and your belly smolders as he brings the bottle to his lips, tasting the exact place your own mouth had just been moments ago. You press your knees together as hard as you can, head a little woozy with the color of his eyes; the most gorgeous green, caramel hazel. 

You’d graduated two years ago with a degree in art history and had done absolutely nothing with it since. It was just that everything appeared boring and pointless and shallow. Your whole life had one day suddenly seemed just a little silly. Useless, overpriced degree, nothing to be done with extensive knowledge in color theory when your world is expecting such different things from you now. 

But you sure as hell can appreciate the color of his eyes in extensive and meticulous detail. There is that. 

Watching the slow slide of the amber liquor down the bottle-neck, the long pull of his lush mouth, the ripple of his strong throat, and the way his eyes go a little wider, shocked at how good it is. You laugh soft: “I know, right.”

He takes another pull, another swallow. That’s what you want to be—swallowed just like that. “Damn, that’s good.” His mouth is a little wet, bottom lip shiny with thousands of dollars worth of your father’s favorite whiskey, and his eyes are sad. 

You’d said you were going to be bad, but you don’t want to be bad to him. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He swallows again, tipping his head towards you, trying to catch your too soft words—he’s got a bad ear, you know why—and turns to peer at you from beneath his low pulled brow, the tip of his tongue peeking out to swipe at the drop of liquor you wish you could suck off his tongue. 

“You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

The first time he’d shown you that gentleness of his: You’d fallen from your horse at school in your junior year. Something had frightened the beast, and she’d bucked you, sent you flying ten feet in the air, ragdoll-like, before you’d landed badly on your right arm, a comminuted fracture in your radius that you’d needed surgery to fix. At your insistence, and with only a few weeks left to spare, you’d been sent home for the remainder of the semester. Your father had been incensed but eventually allowed it. He’d been away from the ranch on business, after all, at no risk of being truly disturbed by you. But when you’d been readying to return to Switzerland at the end of the summer, arm healed, courage not, you’d not been able to get back on a horse no matter what you tried. Joel had helped you, before they’d shipped you off again. Trotted the corral with you for hours and hours before you’d finally been able to relax and sit on your own without tears and vertigo. No questions or admonishments, nothing but the quiet burr of his deep voice, guiding you and the mare along. 

It had been a kindness unlike any you’d experienced in maybe your whole life. 

“I’ve been bad.”

“Nah. You couldn’t ever be.”

The second time: “Did today make you think of Sarah?” Years after you’d found that green eyed photograph, he’d shared her with you. 

His gaze turns suddenly sharp, but you’re not worried you’ve stepped in unbreachable territory. “Yeah.” The echo of her name rings around the two of you. 

“In a bad way or a good way?” He takes another long swig, a low whistle through his teeth and a shake of his head before he’s handing the bottle back to you—again, carefully. 

“Both.”

You take your own swallow, slicking your tongue all around where his just was, and you’re drunk for real now. Drunk on a man. 

“Do you ever regret telling me about her?”

“Nah.” He tips his head back, looking up at the thick beams of the deck’s awning. He’s got the longest lashes you’ve ever seen on a man, thick and curling. The deepest voice you’ve ever heard too, sultry, a bedroom voice. A voice for fucking. Your belly swirls and dips, and you want so much you’re dizzy with it. 

Heart beating like it’s about to burst, out of breath on the verge of hyperventilating, you can taste his mouth in your mouth, the imagination flavor of it. This is what it must feel like to die. This is what your father must have felt like three days ago, this agony. 

His Adam’s apple bobs, and it’s so pronounced, the skin of his throat sun pebbled. There isn’t an inch of him that isn’t all rough-hewn man. “You needed to hear about her then, I s’pose.” 

Yes. “You told me when I needed you to.” After that lonely graduation, the last time you’d missed her really very badly, longed for a mother. Alone, alone, alone little girl. 

“You were missin’ your momma somethin’ fierce. Needed to know you weren’t the only one that felt like that sometimes.”

You laugh a not-laugh, butt scraping against the railing, slipping off your perch, socked-feet thudding beside his gifted boots. The pleasure you feel whenever you see him use one of the things you’ve given him is indescribable. 

“Silly,” you say with barely any sound, his bad ear reaches for your voice again. “At the time it felt like I was the only person in the whole world that had ever felt like that.”

“We all feel like that at one point or another, I reckon.”

“Will you miss him a lot?” You ask looking up at him, the beautiful profile, the strong jaw. You’ve always wondered how he sees you. If he’s ever thought you were beautiful. Other men do, it’s a common thing, a nothing sort of thing. There are always men, there will always be men. But this singular man—this one is not like the rest. 

“Maybe. Can’t tell yet, don’t think. But it felt wrong earlier, walking through his house without him in it.” His house, not yours. 

“Do you wish he’d been your father?” And he turns to look down at you at that, gaze snapping, and you can tell you’ve shocked him with the question. But you’d always wondered. 

“No. Never,” he says with such assuredness, an uncompromising shake of his head. 

And the answer doesn't necessarily shock you in turn. You don't think anyone could have ever wanted a father like that. But it also doesn't help you understand what it was that lived between them either. 

He sighs, perhaps reading the confusion in your gaze. “He helped me at a time when I needed it real bad. Gave me a place and a purpose and a thing to do and take care of. You get me? It was gratitude—maybe. He saved me in a way, after Sarah. Nothing more.” He thinks for a moment, and then, “Perhaps it was that we understood each other about certain things.”

You gaze across the sprawl of dark land as far as the eye reaches, that point of no return where the earth shoots up into the sky, purple blue behemoths in the shape of mountains. 

From this spot, rooted to the deck of your family home, it seems like the whole world is yours to keep. Also, like you’ll never be able to touch any of it with fingers or taste or meaning. 

Your love for this place is complicated—tied up in the people, the memories, the could’ves and should’ves, the whole dreamscape idea of the monument of childhood and all it’d really never been. The time away had felt eternal, like you’d never really been here to begin with, like the young girl who’d grown up on this land had never really existed. But you’d not forgotten them, this, despite your distance. Your home, the father that wouldn’t want you, Wyoming and all its splendor, the people you’d left behind, Joel and Ellie and shared birthdays that meant a secret world to you. Morsels of small happinesses interloped amidst a largely lonely and sad childhood. That’s what it was at its core. 

“Would you be angry with me if I gave it all away?”

He thinks for a moment, maybe you’re making him sadder, but then finally says with a swallow, “No. It’s yours to do with as you please.”

You eye the quarter of whiskey left, but your belly isn’t hungry for its warmth anymore. You want something heavier now. 

“Could you even do that—legally—sell it or somethin’?”

“Probably not. He probably tied it to my fucking life. Sell and die.” You mime your name in an imitation of your fathers deep voice, frowning at yourself the way he’d always frowned when he looked at you, but it pulls a laugh from him, and the painful memory is worth it. “But I have a billion dollars to spend now. More?” You tap your chin—you want to make him laugh again. “Gotta think of something interesting to do with it all.”

His mouth slides into an easy half grin. Like the moon—that beautiful. And he turns to face you fully. “You’re gonna be just fine. You know that, right?”

You turn to face him too, gripping the bannister for dear life. “What? Will you make sure of it?”

“That’s my plan.”

“How’re you gonna do that, d’you reckon?” The American twang bleeds back into your voice, and you’re all swollen lush on the inside, heart a beating fist in your chest. 

“Haven’t gotten that far, if I’m bein’ honest with you.” God. His eyes, the strong bridge of his nose, his mouth. He’s so tall your head has to crook back to look up at him. “I’ll figure something out.” And after another pensive second, and still with that soft, sloped eye smile, he asks, and nicely, “Will you stop drinking now—for me?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” you say with the same sort of smile in return. 

And then suddenly, like vomit again but maybe more humiliating this time: “Did you respect him?” Because you don’t know all the things about him that there are to know, but you do know that Joel Miller’s respect is a thing hard earned. 

He clicks his tongue, and you hear the pop of his jaw as he shifts it like he’s chewing on an honesty. His eyes, his eyes, they’re serious, mercurial, warm and deep also. You worry he won’t answer, that he wouldn’t want to disappoint you or something, but then: “No,” said real simple like.

“Why not?”

And the way he looks down at you, you know already, and it makes that falling through the surface of your own life feeling rise up inside you again, makes your ears pop with embarrassment. Ah. “He never did a very good job of hiding the way he treated you, sweetheart. I couldn’t ever respect a man like that.” 

This is reality right here, this is you falling through your life, this is the realization that it wasn’t only you imposing yourself, your existence, on someone with gifts they didn’t want or ask for. Joel had seen. Joel had understood. 

Someone else had noticed that you exist, and it had been him. 

What else had you ever wanted?

And in the blink of a desperate, yearning eye, drunk on a man still, you’re throwing yourself at him, pressing your mouth hot and heavy to his, kissing him full on the way you’d dreamt of since you knew to dream of such things.

Chapter 2; Sugar, Not so Sweet

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[the-fiction-witch]

My Perfect Bride

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - Smutty Word Count - 1119

Jacaerys shifted and squirmed a little against the black sheets of his bed, the fire glowing in the darkness, the storm raging beyond the walls of DragonStone, he shifted trying to get comfortable but he was still half awake however his shifting seemed to stir the other body in his bed, Y/n laid in the other half of his bed, his betrothed. She wasn't supposed to be here so late or share his bed but given their wedding coming in only a few short days they bent the rules tonight for a cuddle, she laid in the end in her blue nightgown gracefully over her body, her curls loose on the pillow, her chest rising and falling with each of her slow breaths, her lips parted and her eyes softly closed.

Jacaerys heavy arm rested over Y/n's waist and pulled her closer to him. He kissed her shoulder and the base of her neck slowly, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair and the warmth of her body. Slowly his arm tightened around her waist, pulling their bodies even closer together. He nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, leaving a trail of light kisses there. 

Y/n stirred and shifted, her voice grumbled a little sound that sort of resembled his name, 

His hand slipped under the hem of her nightgown, his fingers tracing languidly along her inner thigh. He couldn't stop the smile that spread over his face Jacaerys loved the way she felt against him. His fingertips continued their gentle caress along her inner thigh. "Say my name. Say my name again," he whispered in her ear, his voice husky with desire. "I want to hear it." He nipped at the soft skin of her neck, his thumb stroking lazy circles just above her hipbone.

She wiggled and squirmed in her sleep as she woke more and more each second "Jace... What are you doing?" She yawned,

He moved his hands upwards, his fingers skimming over the bare skin of her hip and up to the trim of her nightgown. "I can't sleep," he mumbled against her neck, his voice still low and husky. "Just keep lying on your side, I want you so much."

"I'm not sure this will help you sleep Jace, more likely to wake you up I'd assume?" She teased

Jacaerys let out a sound between a laugh and a groan, his lips trailing along the expanse of Y/n's neck. "You're perfect," he murmured between kisses, his fingers slipping beneath the flimsy strap of her nightgown and sliding it off her shoulder. "Don't want to sleep. Want to touch you."

"alright Jace..." She yawns close to drifting back to sleep once more too tired to debate with him

Jacaerys kissed and nipped his way down her shoulder, pulling the strap of her nightgown lower on her arm. He kissed her skin reverently, his touch both gentle and urgent as he explored the curves of her body. His thumb traced patterns on the bare skin of her stomach, his fingers sliding further up her thigh. He wanted to touch her everywhere, commit the feel of her skin to memory. Jacaerys felt a pang of desire shoot through him at the sight of her the way the moonlight illuminated her skin, the way her body responded to his touch. His breath hitched, his fingers tracing along her side towards her breast. "Y/n," he whispered, "I want to touch you, taste you, feel you. please."

"what is it, Jace?" She yawns

He pressed his body closer to hers, his chest pressed firmly against her back, his lips ghosting over her neck. "I can't stop thinking about you. All day, all night, it's like you're all I have in my mind. I want to touch you, taste you, claim you as mine. I'll do whatever you ask, say whatever you want, but please, let me have you." Jacaerys' breath was heavy, his voice thick with desire.

"We shouldn't we're not married yet…"

His lips were tantalizingly close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Please, just a taste. Just a small indulgence before the wedding, just this once. No one has to know, I'll behave, I'll be good. Just let me have you, just for tonight." His thumb traced gently along her inner thigh, sending shivers down her spine.

"... alright jacaerys just... Be gentle"

His breath hitched in his chest, a rush of affection flooding him at her words. He knew how much control it had taken her to surrender to his desires. "I promise," he whispered, his hand still tracing gently along her inner thigh, the other moving to tangle in the mass of her curls. He pressed his body closer, his hips flushed against hers, his lips moving to her neck.

she giggled clearly excited too she moved sitting up and lightning a small candle beside the bed, she turned kissed his lips softly, they shared a few small innocent kisses but Jacaerys couldn’t wait his hands slipped down from her waist to the hem of her nightie and quickly threw it from her body, leaving her completely exposed to his eyes, she couldn't stop her giggles as she laid down on his bed on her back letting him soak all of her in, 

Jacaerys' breath caught in his throat at the sight of her naked body laid bare before him, his hands instantly moving to touch her, his fingers skating over her curves in an almost reverent manner. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life," he murmured, his eyes roaming over her in wonder. "My perfect bride."

"your not disappointed?"

He shook his head emphatically, a smile spreading across his face as he touched her like he had dreamt about for so long. "No," he said softly, his eyes fixed on hers. "You're perfect. You're everything I want, everything I need. And now you're going to be my wife. How could I be anything but happy?" He kissed her deeply, pouring all of his love and admiration into it.

"I don't know if you imagined your wife better?”

Jacaerys chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew this was an insecurity that had been weighing on her for a while, and he wanted to banish it. "No," he said firmly, his eyes locking with hers. "Not bigger, not smaller, just perfect. There isn't a single thing I'd change about you. I love the way you look, I love the way you feel. You're perfect. And you're mine. And once we are married I promise I will make you know how much I love your body every single night," He pressed closer against her body, his fingers roaming over her skin as he kissed her deeply, his tongue slipping inside her mouth hungrily…

Masterlist Of Jacaerys Velaryon

[fushigur0ll]

SMILE FOR ME?

꒰ ♡ ꒱ — miles says something that hurts your feelings and is trying to make up for that

includes; black fem reader, a bit angsty, fluff at the end, kisses, nicknames like ma, baby, mami and etc

“baby open the door” he sighs, leaning his forehead against your bathroom door. his heart hurts every time he hears you sob and sniffle..all because of him.

“leave me alone miles, i don’t want to deal with you right now” you breathe out shakily, wiping your eyes and cheeks from the tears. “i really don’t so please just leave”

he closes his eyes and stays still, not wanting to leave and allow you to be by yourself. it’s not the first time that you both have your arguments and disagreements. you both start quarrelling then to the both of you distancing to calm down before coming back to speak to one another calmly. just 3 simple steps that’s gotten you both a long way into the relationship but it seems as you were still stuck in the second step; distancing.

he knows what he said was wrong, he didn’t mean it and he genuinely isn’t lying it wasn’t even supposed to come out of his mouth- the thought wasn’t even directed towards you— he doesn’t even know anymore he just want to reconcile with you and hold you again. but he knew the moment what he said hurt you by the look in your eyes. the way your waterline filled with tears, an expression of heartbreak and your body slowly going from tense and confident to relaxed and defeated. the room was quiet and all you both did was stare at each-other. miles was just trying to find something to say when he looks at the tears slowly cascading down your brown cheeks, another hole opens in his heart.

“baby..” he stutters a bit but you turn and walk towards the bathroom, closing the door behind you as you sit on the floor of the small room, crying into your hands replaying those same 6 words again and again

“i wish i never met you”

to someone else, possibly, it could seem that she is overreacting but to you it tore you into some indescribable. miles is the type of person to keep everything to himself but when he met you all of that changed and was happy he did meet you, he really did. so now him saying he never wished he did, felt like you've just been stringed along this entire time. you know he said it out of anger and you know he didn't mean it but the thoughts swarming in your head, the train of thoughts being filled with passengers of insecurities overrules it in a millisecond.

“ ‘m not leaving” he shakes his head, sighing softly. “please just let me explain myself— explain what miles?” you cut him off abruptly, roughly rubbing your now irritated eye.

“you said it, it’s been said and it seems like you’ve been meaning to say it for a while now” you mumbled, not having the energy to even speak.

“i was just- ma, i was just overthinking and you were just talking to me at the same time so it was just too much for me to focus in that moment baby okay? i’m sorry” he apologizes, his expression turned into a slight look of desperation. “open the door for me? please?” he asks, quietly.

again it was silent and it was something he didn’t like either. the silence continues for at least 2 minutes before he hears the door unlock and open. he is revealed to his tired looking girl, eyes red and puffy from crying, and body stance just lazy looking all ready to give up.

he stares at you with a look of guilt and regret. he walks towards you slowly and cups your face into his calloused hands , just watching your every move 'n seeing you lean into his warm hands, closing your eyes with a quiet sigh, not knowing what say towards your boyfriend at all in the moment. it was just like that for what felt like forever. just him watching your face and all of your features carefully like he wouldn't remember If you were to just disappear right now.

"baby I-" he cuts himself off, wanting to word his messed up and crazy thoughts properly. "I love you- I'm in love with you" he mumbles, rubbing his thumb back and forth along your cheek and getting you to open your red eyes to look at him tiredly. "I never. ever. want you not to be in my life…no lo entiendes (you don’t understand), I need you." his voice gets deeper but softer as he moves his head closer to yours, placing his forehead gently on your own. "today I failed you as your boyfriend by saying something that I didn't even mean to you..I know what I said was wrong, I do mama, I do. I never meant to hurt you…" he whispers, pecking your lips softly. "I can't and wouldn't ever leave you alone, knowing I hurt you like this and enough to make you cry…thats something I wouldn't be able to even go up to my mother and tell her" he chuckles half heartedly, shaking his head and exhaling.

"..I am really sorry mami" he then kisses you deeply, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in closer just to feel your body against his own. you sigh once more, hugging him and kissing him back with two hands on either side of his face. he relaxes and picks you up, lips still intact and carries you to your bed, sitting down and placing you on his lap. you both separate for some air, panting lightly with you both just staring at each other again. he cups your face with one hand, looking at you straight in the eye with a soft look. "you're so beautiful" you frown and let a tear push out your eye but it didn't get a chance to roll down your cheek because of miles wiping it away. "no more crying okay? im so so sorry" he rubs your back.

"smile for me?…please?" he asks, watching you sniffle but slowly move the corner of your lips upwards into that beautiful smile of yours, so damn contagious it makes him give you that sweet small smile back. you now smile wider and hug him tightly once again.

"please don't do that ever again" you whisper, cheek against his shoulder. he nods and kisses your temple longingly.

"I won't even think of yelling at you again" he promises to himself and to you.

"I promise"

fushigur0ll © 2022 all rights reserved. do not plagarize, translate, or post to other sites please.

[dilfl0v3rss]

choso x reader who skipped school (college) and hung out with her friends and was lying saying she was going to school everyday until her grades came in the mail and she got dealt with

YESSSSS BAEEEEE

you knew your boyfriend didn’t play that lazy shit. you were to be up every morning, dressed, ready and on time for your classes. it was a tight schedule and you felt like you were having no time to relax, so you just stopped. now of course choso wasn’t just going to let you stop going to class so you continued to make it seem like you were going just to keep him off your back. you’d wake up, get dressed at the same time you used too, and be out that door by 10:30 just like usual. the only difference is instead of you making your way to campus you would make your way to the mall or starbucks, or a fancy restaurant with your friends.

you didn’t mean for it to drag out for so long, but you were just so tired and drained when it came to all the lectures and papers so each time you thought about it the farther away you turned from it.

“gimme a kiss fore you go baby” choso mumbled, his chest bare to you as he sat up on the bed. his job blessed him with a day off today and as much as you wanted to just stay with him, you knew it’ll blow your cover. “f’course papa” your lips caressed each others briefly before you were walking out the door. you quickly skipped towards your car, giggling as you pulled out your phone to see where you and your girls were hanging out today. choso was going to go back to bed, but decided to stay awake and do some work around the house since he hasn’t been home like this in awhile.

a couple hours have went by and he noticed that you haven’t called him between classes like you usually did when he was off during the week. a flush of embarrassment running through him as he thought of his clinginess. “miss my girl” he mumbled as he pulled out his phone to send you a quick text. halfway through his message he heard the doorbell ring, his head instantly turning towards the front door as he rose from the couch in the living room. choso quietly looked through the front blinds, waiting for the mailman to be completely gone so he can come out and get the mail without having to throw on a t shirt.

as he sat back down on the couch, papers in hand, he read through each piece of mail he got. “bank, insurance, insurance again, victoria’s secret…..academic office? wha-” choso cut himself off as he slowly opened up the envelope, the sight of your grades along with the notice about your attendance made him almost rip the paper in half. you haven’t been to your classes in two weeks and your grades were a damn mess. “the hell?” he mumbled, thoughts of you leaving everyday clouding his mind as choso tried to think of what the fuck you possibly could’ve been doing these past two weeks.

he knew you weren’t cheating on him, the thought not even crossing his mind as he clicked on your location. he tried to refrain from doing this, not wanting to seem like a control freak, but since you wanted to act up he was going to have to be a little stern with you. as he looked at where you were choso could help but chuckle. “the damn mall, f’course” he mumbled as he looked at your little bubble moving towards what looked like the parking lot. he knew you weren’t going to come home right now because he was home, but since it just so happened to be the time you’d take to have lunch between classes he decided to give you a call.

as you looked at the picture of your boyfriend on your phone, a small smile graced your features. you had no idea what he knew. “hi babyyyy” you yelled, making choso smile on the other line. “hi mama, miss you” you giggled, throwing your bags in the car before sitting in your seat. “maybe i could come see you. just got outta class” you lied through your teeth. choso’s anger only grew as he listened to you lie to him like it was nothing, his jaw tightening as he kept a straight face while he talked. “i’d like that, been thinkin bout you all day” his deep voice made you smile, a tingle running up your spine as you quickly started your car. you told choso you’ll be home soon before the two of you hung up and you started your journey.

as you were on the way choso made sure to put all the mail away, only leaving the slip he got from your school in his hand as he waited for you on the couch. you rushed to the house, happy as you made every light and there was zero traffic since you didn’t even have to take the highway like you did when coming home from class, the mall was literally right there. as you walked towards the front door, you didn’t even have to knock since choso opened it for you. “hi papa!” you squealed before giving him a bunch off kisses on his cheeks. he wrapped his arms around your waist, giving you a tight hug. he inhaled your scent already knowing you were spraying yourself with different perfumes in the mall because of the mix of aromas coming from your shirt. “got here quick baby, usually would still be on the road right now”

your heart dropped at his words, a quick lie flying from your lips to get him off your tracks. “i just missed you so much i might’ve drove a little fast, don’t be mad at me” you looked up at him, chin on his hard chest as you gave him a pout. choso smiled down at you, his anger already shooting through his arms as he began to squeeze you a little tighter. “never” he said before letting you go. he watched you prance over to your room, not a care in the world running through your mind as you lied to your boyfriend for the second time today. “how was class? learn anything new” he mumbled, his body leaning in the doorway as he watched you plop yourself onto the bed. “boring as always learning the same old thing” you were on a role with these lies today.

choso finally couldn’t take it anymore, slowly walking up to you before leaning both of his hands next to your thighs. just from the look he gave you, you knew you were in trouble. “so when are you gonna stop lying?” his deep voice sent chills down your spine as you looked into his tired eyes. you were too scared to lie, opting for some waterworks instead which made him scoff. “i-it was getting t-to hardddd. i couldn’t keep uppp” you whined, earning yourself a quick hand around your throat as choso stood up to his full height. he slowly dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out the paper, showing you your horrendous grades as well as the attendance notice at the bottom. “so instead of asking me for help, you skip class for two weeks?” you looked up at his angry face with watery eyes, your throat already getting dry as you tried not to cry anymore.

you knew you were wrong and choso knew you were actually never planning to stop, so he was happy he caught you when he did. “turn the fuck over” he grumbled, his hand lightly pushing you back by your neck as he released you from his hold. you whined, slowly turning over in the bed and raising your ass high in the air the way he liked. choso ignored the praise he’d usually give you, getting straight to the point as he began to rub the flesh of your asscheeks through your tights. “you lied t’me three times. lied about being in class, about driving home from class, and about how this imaginary class was boring” you listened intently to what he was saying, taking notice of the way he was slowly pulling at the top of your tights.

“i’m feeling nice today so i’m not gonna count the amount of times you’ve been lying t’me for the last two weeks, but you still getting a punishment for it eventually, understand?” you internally whined, your face going into a frown as you looked straight ahead. “y-yes” choso gave you a quiet “good” before gripping the back of your tights with both hands and ripping the fabric down the middle. you gasped at his strength, letting a whine slip as you realized he just ripped up for favorite pair. his big hand landed a hard smack on your ass, making your body jolt forwards before he used his other hand to quickly grab your waist. “ima spank you three times ‘kay?”

you nodded your head while giving him a quiet “okay” before choso continued on. “that first one was for your whining so it doesn’t count. you don’t get to be upset when you get caught being bad y’hear me?” you slowly nod your head, your cheek squished in the sheets as you closed your eyes and braced yourself for the consequences of your actions. choso kept his eyes on your ass, knowing the sight of your teary face would weaken him. he slowly raised his hand, letting each day you woke up and lied to him play through his mind before landing a rough slap on your ass.

you immediately moaned from the contact, your pussy soaking your panties as you tried your best to hold still for him. “what was that for mama?” he asked, his rough palm rubbing around the area as he awaited your response. you had to take a deep breath before you spoke. “f-for lying about being in c-class” a smirk adorned his features at your obedience. choso didn’t expect you to be able to speak, but the need for forgiveness always seemed to get you to do unspeakable things. “good girl” he mumbled, his deep voice sending more wetness through your underwear as you felt his hand leave your ass again.

the second slap was a bit harder, making your entire body jerk forward as you quickly tucked your lip behind your teeth to keep you from screaming. “unt uhh baby i gotta hear you. how you gon talk t’me while biting your lip like that huh?” you slowly complied, freeing the glossy skin from the confines of your mouth as you felt his hand begin to rub up and down your back. choso slowly released himself from his sweatpants, rubbing his thick dick along the fabric of your wet panties as he spoke. “tell me what that one was for baby” he groaned, the feeling of your arousal sending shivers down his spine. “was f’lying ab….about driving home f-from class….please daddy m’so sorryyy” your moans were music to his ears. choso slowly moved your panties to the side, a low “mhmm” leaving his throat at he looked at your glistening folds connecting to your panties with strings of your arousal. “what’s this last one for mama?”

you opened your mouth to speak, but were cut off by the feeling of his rough palm colliding with your ass. the sound so loud it bounced of the walls as he sunk his dick deep inside your entrance. a loud moan escaping your mouth as you felt inch by thick inch of him being sheathed inside of you. “ooohhh fuckk i can’t” a rough slap was brought to your ass again at your words. anger ran through choso’s veins as he listened to you lie to him again. “stop it baby, yes you can” he started at a slow pace, letting you feel each and every part of him as he kept a tight grip on your hips. his dick dragging in and out of you, touching everywhere all at once as he let you moan and whine into the air. “why you makin me do this t’you, huh? why couldn’t you just ask me for help?” his deep voice caressed your ears as you felt his pace begin to quicken. you wanted your words to come out, but the faster he fucked you the harder it got for you to think. coherent words being replaced with mumbles and whines. choso chuckled at the state of you, his dick twitching he put his hands flat on your back to deepen your arch.

“papa pleaseeee” you whined, your walls tightened around him as you felt his dick begin to push into your stomach. you went to reach for his abs, lightly trying push some of his inches out, but you were met with a big hand around your wrist. whines flew from your lips, your tears continuously soaking the sheets as you tried to plead with the man behind you. “p-please i can’t ch….cho-” “s’not my name mama. if you finish that sentence ima make you go to your next class after this. with my cum leaking down your thighs” he roughly threw your hand back in front of you, continuing his brutal thrusts as he watched your pussy take each and every inch of him. “why couldn’t you jus ask for help? you know i’d never tell you no to somethin like that”

your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your mind all over the place as you confessed the reason for your actions to your boyfriend. “d-didn’t wanna bother you. y’work too much….work too hard and never rest….just wanted you t’rest papa” choso’s eyes softened at your words, his thrusts slowing at he pulled you up to him by your neck. his broad chest pressed against your back as he spoke deeply in your ear. “that’s not the way t’look out f’me mama. cause now i gotta do even more work to catch you back up” a low cry left your lips as you realized how right he was. cries if “m’sorry” and “please don’t be mad at me” flew from your lips like a prayer as you felt choso regain his quick and deep pace.

“s’okay tho baby, papa’s gonna be off work for a couple weeks since the building is under construction. ima get you right on track” at that you felt his thick fingers rub quickly on your clit. his thrusts deepening as he continuously hit your g spot. your body melted into his arms as you felt your release begin to approach you. “d-da m’gonna cum…can i?” everything in choso’s brain was screaming at him to tell you no, but the sorry, far away look in your big, brown, glossy eyes weakened him to the point where he felt his release approaching him as well. a low groan escaped from his lips as he quickly nodded his head. “yea mama give it t’me. don’t worry about a thing jus let papa handle it okay?”

without a reply the both of you chased after your orgasms. your hips moving back onto choso’s dick, clenching around him tightly as he continued to rub quick circles around your clit. “c-cum in me p-please” you whimpered, tears running down your face as you and choso connected your lips together. he sloppily kissed you, moaning a “mhmmm” as he let both of your salivas mix together. before long neither of you could focus on the kiss as your releases crashed through you. your lips parting into each other as you felt your juices squirt all over the bed as well as choso’s cum shooting deep into you. “fuckk baby” he moaned, his head falling back as he clenched his eyes shut. “m’sorry pa” you breathed, your hand slowly moving back to caress the back of his sweaty neck.

“i know mama, jus don’t do it again”

bonus!!

you practically sprinted into the house, your slides flying off your feet as you went straight to your room to your boyfriend. choso was just getting out of the shower, towel wrapped tightly around his wet, muscular body as he used another towel to dry his hair. “baby baby baby baby babyyyyy” a smirk grew on his face at your excitement, his tongue swiping over his pink lips as he gave you a deep “hmm” you skipped towards him, your hands behind your back as you looked up at your beautiful boyfriend.

“lemme see mama” he said, a chuckle erupting from his chest as he watched how quickly you pulled your phone from behind your back. choso inspected your screen, scrolling through the different grades you’ve been getting in each of your classes. “an A in anatomy, A in psych, A in sociology, ooouuu a C in stats? wassup wit that i thought we was doing well?” choso gave you a confused look, waiting for you to let him know what was going on. you sighed, eyes reverting to the ground. choso opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sight of your latest exam from your stats class. the big 95% being exposed to him in red ink.

a smile grew on your face as you spoke. “he said he was a little behind on grades so once this is in i should have a B!” a smile spread to choso’s face now, his big hands grabbing at your waist before giving you a light kiss on the lips. “m’proud of you, good job” a hint of mischief twinkled in your eyes as you gave your boyfriend and expecting look. “sooooo….can we?” a chuckle flew from his chest as he gave you a sexy smirk, his pearly white teeth peaking from his lips as he looked you up and down. “on your back mama, spread your legs real wide f’me” his deep voice rang in your ears, making you move almost instantly towards the bed.

you quickly removed your pants and panties before laying on your back in just your pretty pink crop top. choso made his way to his dresser, pulling out the black vibrator he promised to use on you if you got all your grades up. he slowly walked towards you on the edge of the bed, his towel wrapped securely around his waist as he leaned his body over yours, his hands right next to both sides of your head as he leaned down to plant wet kisses on your neck. “been working hard, huh mama? been doin all your work like daddy said?”

you quickly nod your head yes, your eyes already rolling just from the sound of his deep voice. “yes sir” choso slowly kissed down your body, moving to his knees until he was face to face with your glistening pussy. “what’s this for baby?” he asked, the sound of the vibrator powering on making your walls clench in anticipation. “f-for being a good girl” choso lowered his mouth to your clit, letting his wide tongue run up and down your folds before moving two of his fingers towards your entrance. he lowered the vibrator down until it was only mere centimeters away from your clit.

“that’s right ma. s’for being a good girl”

[nica-my-beloved]

Tropes In Ikemen Series Games That I Dislike

These are my opinion so no hate!

MC BEING SHY AND BLUSHING AT THE SLIGHTEST TEASING

Some times I find it cute, but other times I wish she would just tease the male leads back.

A lighthearted flirtatious teasing would be funny to watch.

TOO MUCH SEXUAL INTERACTIONS

I understand, it spices up the story but when the most random interaction suddenly turn into a hot making out session just turns me off.

Some times in some scenes, when the moment is right, the whole steamy scene does feel nice. But not all cases.

SUBMISSIVE MCs

I mean, it's fine. I just wish the MCs were more diverse. The Ikemen MCs are way too submissive for my good. They don't even TRY to resist the advances of male lead.

They are so much in love with the guy they met for 2 weeks that they are ready to let them sleep with her, which is awkward as hell.

VERY PURE HEARTED MCs

I don't mind again, but they are not relatable at all. And I've already mentioned in one of my posts that MCs are not meant to be relatable. They are just tools that the writers use for spoon-feeding the stories to the players (because they think we're too dumb to understand the character's personality or intentions). But that doesn't mean I don't want variety.

There are so many different personalities, yet why are the MCs always so kind, so hardworking, so pure, so timid. Some times I dream about an MC who is lazy, foodie, loves shopping, doesn't like studying, doesn't care about what people say about her, doesn't like talking to people, doesn't even try to get along with people who treats her like shit, likes anime and has wallpapers of shirtless Sylus on her laptop, never follows rules......am I describing myself? Yep!

MCs don't have to hold a gun or kill someone or be the Queen of the Underworld. She can still be cool wearing pajamas and sunglasses, dancing on top of her bed at Shinee's Ring Ding Dong (I still love that song!)

THE USUAL CLICHES

Including random people coming inside the room (without knocking ofc), sees MC and a male lead in bed (fully clothed, or not doesn't matter) and still thinking that they slept together. Also MC wasting time and energy to clear up their 'misunderstanding'.

MC's promising that she will never fall in love but breaks her promise. She had one job!

MCs......*holding back puke* teaching male leads turru love *cringe 101*

Similar personality male leads. For example: Kurama, Silvio, Jude. Arthur, Sueharu, Nokto, Nica. I need more variety.

One month time period bullshit! It doesn't matter when at the end MCs are leaving their world to join the male lead (who they know only for a month). Maybe give like a 6 months or an year. Then I'll believe you.

I don't like the killing trope, where the male leads openly saying 'I'll kill you someday'. It triggers me and I don't really find it romantic in any sense.

Always MCs falling in love first and not the male lead. I understand that we play from the MC's perspective, but I really want to know how it feels when the male lead fall in love with MC first. It could be interesting.

Male leads leaving/breaking-up with MCs for her own happiness is also bullshit. I'm tired of seeing this over and over again and it annoys me. The male leads would always be like 'MC, you're not suppose to be in this world. You deserve happiness blah blah blah...' I don't like this because at the end, they eventually change their minds and decides to accept her. If they wanted her then why let go of her? So annoying. I just want a male lead, who is like 'I don't care if my world is shitty, I love MC and I want to be with her! I'll always make her happy and protect her!'

[camilyscove]

A LOVE UNLIKE ANY OTHER . JJ MAYBANK ꩜

trope : enemies to lovers .

genre : fluff . ꩜

summary : you start having your doubts about whether jj really was the worst person you met after the pogues lock you in a room together .

IT NEVER OCCURRED TO YOU how much you actually liked jj. it pained you to admit such a thing, even if it was just in your head.

ever since you and jj met, there was a rivalry between you two. the other pogues didn't understand why, and as much as they tried to make you two get along, it never worked.

you were at a party when you first met jj, and you had been trying to find your friend, kie, when some drunk dude stumbled into you, his drink spilling onto your shirt.

you hitched your breath, muttering out a small 'shit,' when you looked up at the boy.

it was strange, but you felt your chest tighten. your heartrate picked up, and you couldn't rip your eyes away from him. he was so.. perfect, with those ocean blue eyes of his and his dimples that you found absolutely adorable. you wanted to be the one to make those dimples appear in a laugh, wanted to look into those gorgeous eyes of his and just admire them. and his hands. you wanted to lace your fingers through his—

"damn, my fault, mamacita," he said sarcastically. he was dazed, and his eyes were clouded. you blinked, giving him a look of disbelief.

"this top was $50," you deadpanned, your heart dropping to your stomach. you looked down at the stain you knew wasn't going to come off, biting your lip nervously. he scoffed, rolling his eyes as he placed a hand on your shoulder for balance.

"well, obviously you're a kook, so just buy another one." you stared at him, suddenly all those thoughts about how beautiful he looked disappeared. the only thought you had now was to not beat the living shit out of him.

"I bought it with my own money," you informed, pushing his hand off you shoulder. he squinted at you, as if he were trying to detect any sincerity in your sober eyes. "just because my family is rich, doesn't mean that I use my parents money to buy all my stuff."

"nahhhh," he trailed off, a stupid smile painting across his face. "all of y'all kooks are fuckin' lazy, 'ya feel me? us pogues gotta work our asses off, while you guys don't have to work for shit." his words were slurring together, and he laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

you knew this guy was definitely out of it, that he didn't understand what the hell he was saying. but you still took it personally. you were tired of everyone assuming you were some rich little spoiled princess that got everything she wanted, because it wasn't true. your parents worked hard to support your family. it wasn't like they just pulled all the money they made out of their ass, and you didn't just throw their money away for unnecessary things.

you actually worked at the country club; you were a cart girl and would waitress from time to time. your parents wanted you to learn that you would have to work for the things you wanted, too; that they wouldn't just hand you money when you wanted it.

"since you seem pretty fucking slow, i'm gonna let you know that I actually work at the country club to pay for the shit I want, but i dont blame you for not knowing, because obviously you've never been there," you bit back, and he knit his eyebrows at you.

"i'm slow? who the fuck do you think you are?"

"yes, you're very slow, you dumb fucking blond--"

right before you could finish, kie came up beside you.

"hey, jayj, i see you met—“ she cut herself off as she took in the tension between you two. “jj?” she said, looking at the boy who was fuming. she turned to you, a questioning look on her face. "what happened?"

you inhaled deeply, staring up at the boy who had your patience running thin. "this drunk ass dude spilled his drink on me, and he started calling me a lazy kook who uses my parents money to buy shit," you said lowly, not breaking eyes contact with him once.

"he's drunk, y/n. he has no idea what he's talking about--"

"drunk words speak sober thoughts. you've said it yourself."

she blinked, sighing before muttering an apology on your behalf to the jj guy before pulling you away. she scolded you for arguing with him, saying that he was actually cool if you just got to meet him, that he was drunk and was just saying things off the top of his head. you scoffed and shook your head, refusing to listen to any of her excuses about her friend.

from then on, your relationship between jj was composed of insults thrown at one another and situations where the pogues had to hold you back from swinging at the dude.

even though jj made it clear he had a deep hatred for you, you were still accepted into the group as one of them. they respected how you understood what hard-work was and that you actually made an effort to actually have the things you owned, rather than just begging your parents for money.

it had been two years since the first interaction between you and jj, except now the pogues were done with your shit. they despised how one of you just had to start something up, causing a whole argument to spark up between the two of you. so they came up with a plan.

you were laying flat on your stomach on your bed, reading a book as you listened to the waves crashing against the shore in the background, the result of leaving your window open. your phone began to ring, and you put the book down before answering the call. it was john b.

"yo, we're all going to meet up at the château in like, 10 minutes," you heard him say on the other end of the phone. you sighed, turning to lay on your back.

"i'm on lockdown from sneaking out last time."

"when are you not?" he said with a laugh, and you rolled your eyes.

"y'know what? fuck it. my parents are probably asleep, anyway. my brother will cover for me if they wake up and notice i'm gone, " you said, standing up to pull your shoes on.

"alright, see 'ya later."

he hung up, and you slid your window all the way open. you jumped onto the tree right next to your window, climbing down the ladder before hitting the ground and getting into your new car. you drove away, praying that this would be a lucky time you didn't get caught.

when you finally arrived at the château, you padded up the steps of the porch before swinging the door open, met by surprise as someone grabbed you from behind. you immediately elbowed them in the chest, making them loosen their grip, and before you could hurt them any further, two other people got a hold of you. you tried to scream, but they covered your mouth and dragged you to the back of the château.

"sorry, babes, but we have to do it," you heard kie's voice say. your voice of suprise and confusion was muffled beneath john b's hand.

you were pushed into big john's office, the door locking behind you.

you slammed your fists against the door, screaming for kie and john b and pope to let you out. you were so focused onto getting out of the room that you didn't notice jj sitting on the other side of the room.

"they're not gonna open it, dumbass."

his voice caught you by surprise, and you turned to see him spinning around in big john's chair. you scoffed.

of course.

"you're not leaving until you guys become friends!" you heard pope say from the other side of the door.

"besties," kie corrected, her voice a whisper.

"I'm not saying besties," he protested.

"you have to say besties," john b confirmed, and you heard more aggravated whispers until pope finally caved in.

"until you guys become besties!" you heard kie laughing as pope said, "there, you happy?"

"no way they locked me in a room with you," you said, your jaw going slack as you stared at him in disgust.

"trust me, i'm not any happier than you are, miss kook princess"

"this is the most betrayed i've ever felt in all my seventeen years of living."

"that's a pretty long time."

you looked around before rushing to the windows, but before you could even try to get them open, jj spoke up. "they're painted shut. no way out of this one, mamacita."

"how many times have I told you not to call me that?"

"I dunno."

"exactly. too many times to count, dickhead." he began to go on a rant about how improper it was for you to say such a thing. you sighed and slid down the wall, leaning your head against it as you closed your eyes. now you had to listen to his voice for— God knows how long.

it was a nightmare.

you couldn’t believe you had snuck out again just to be locked into a room with jj— did the pogues not understand that you were already on thin ice with your parents?

about an hour had passed, and jj was still talking about anything that came up on his mind. it irritated you, and you had just about enough when he started to sing.

“jj, can you just shut the fuck up?” you snapped. he looked up at you, a little surprised at the intensity in your voice.

“like, i know the other pogues aren’t the only ones that are tired of this back-and-forth shit.”

jj looked up, meeting your eyes from across the room where you sat next to the door. he had a little doubt in his eyes, and he hesitated for a minute before standing up and moving to sit down next to you.

you knitted your eyebrows together, confused about the close proximity. jj looked down at you, silent as he observed the all-too-familiar features he liked to secretly trace with his eyes when you weren’t looking.

“i…”

you had no idea where this was going.

“i’m sorry.”

you blinked. “what?”

“i said i’m sorry. i’ve always kind-of been a dick to you,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he avoided eye-contact.

“kind-of is an understatement.” he shot you a playful glare, and you laughed. “i should be apologizing, too, jj. i made things much more serious than they needed to be.”

jj locked eyes with you, and suddenly you felt that feeling again. that first emotion when you first saw him at that party.

you seemed to finally remember how gorgeous he was, with his sea-ridden beach-blond hair that fell onto his forehead perfectly and those sweet blue eyes. they looked dazed, just like they did at the party, except he wasn’t high or drunk. he was with you.

to him, it felt the same. even better, actually.

“look— i gotta be honest, okay?” he started, nervously biting his fingernails. you nodded. “all that stuff i said about you being a kook was.. well, it was just me trying to be a jerk. i don’t actually think of you as one of them. y-you’re a pogue. one of us.”

“thank you,” you said quietly, a small smile painting across your face.

“and— i never hated you. i just didn’t want to confront my feelings because i don’t do feelings. so i made myself think that you were a bitch and—“

“wait, what?”

he stopped, and you felt like the weights had been lifted off you shoulders. it wasn’t just you?

”feelings? what do you mean by that?”

jj’s eyes widened, and he took a deep breath as he ran a hand through his hair. “fuck i— i said to much, okay? just.. ignore what i said—“

but before he could finish his anxious rambling, you cupped his jaw with your palm before leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips.

it was mind-altering. you had always dreamed that this would happen, but then you’d kick yourself for thinking such a thing. now, you realized it wasn’t such a stupid thought as jj kissed you back.

you finally pulled away to catch your breath, and you laughed softly. jj had the biggest grin on his face; like a little kid waking up the morning of christmas.

“you—“

“yeah, jj. i like you, too,” you whispered, grabbing one of his hands and lacing your fingers through them just like you wanted to at that party.

“you’re not just doing this so that you can leave this room?”

you gave jj a look, and he laughed. “yeah, i am, actually. i kissed you because i want to leave this room that badly.”

“hey, what are we gonna tell the pogues?” he asked. you shrugged.

“i have no idea.”

“what if we just, like, smooched in front of them? y’know, a lot.”

“please never say smooch again.” he frowned. “and you’re just saying that because you wanna kiss me again.”

“you know me too well,” he breathed out before leaning in to kiss you one more time. he then pulled you up with him off the floor, about to bang on the door and tell the rest of the pogues that you guys made up. but he stopped himself, turning to look at you.

“can i be your boyfriend?” he asked, a nervous waver in his voice. you smiled, taking a minute to gaze at his face before nodding and squeezing his hand.

“of course, jj.”

and this time, he didn’t have to look for the sincerity in your eyes.

authors note : this is my first fanfic so any constructive criticism would be appreciated ! thank you for reading . 💞

[puck-luck]

the adventurous one | dawson mercer

warnings: outdoor/public sex, unprotected sex, references to oral (f!receiving) at a later date, dirty talk, praise pairing: dawson mercer x fem!reader request: "Okay hear me out but Dawson seems like such a nature lover and hiking guy. So could I request something where he and reader go on a hike by a river or something because Dawson wanted to show her but she doesn’t want to hike anymore (lazy girls unite) so she stops him for a “water break” and slowly she manages to get him to have sex right there. Completely public but also private? Please?" ABSOLUTELY! wc: 2000

“Daws, slow down,” you call, watching the distance between your boyfriend and yourself increase with each step. 

Dawson had invited you to go on a hike with him this afternoon in place of his normal workout. You had said yes because you love your boyfriend, but you were both all too well aware that he was a little more physically fit than you, being, oh, an athlete and all.

You had held out as long as you could before asking for a break, but you’re nearing a creek and it’s a pretty sight, so maybe Dawson will let it slide.

You sit down on a stone and dig through your backpack for your water bottle, gulping down the still icy-water. Dawson has turned around and is making his way back to you now, plopping down on another rock near you and stretching his legs out. 

“Tired already, baby?” Dawson asks, rubbing his shins and grinning at you.

You glare at him, bothered by his teasing. You take another gulp of your water, then shove the bottle back into your bag. “Not tired, just hot.”

“You always are,” Dawson says with a nod. He stands, then grabs your hands and pulls you to your feet. “Ready to move along?”

You groan, pursing your lips and looking up at him with a furrowed brow. Dawson mistakes your displeasure for a similar pose that you do when you’re asking for a kiss, so he leans down to peck your lips. He takes your hand and goes to pull you along, but you stay in place.

“What if I proposed an alternate workout?” You ask. “Instead of finishing this hike.”

Dawson chuckles a little, coming to stand in front of you. He ducks his head a bit and raises his eyebrow comically, like he’s listening intently to the idea that hasn’t even fully formed in your head yet.

You walk your fingers over his chest, teasing him. 

“It involves cardio,” you say, trailing off. You let your hand slide up his neck and into his hair sensually, then you smile at him. “Your favorite kind of cardio.”

Dawson laughs, twisting the end of your ponytail with his index finger. “How about we finish this hike and then, when we get home, I’ll treat you to some of that cardio?”

“Or,” you drawl, “You could fuck me right here and then we could go home?”

Dawson looks around. “Right here?” He asks. “In– on the trail?”

You shrug, batting your eyelashes coyly at the boy. “Why not?” You ask. “Aren’t you supposed to be the adventurer here? Why am I the one suggesting this?”

He’s got a silly look on his face, seeming suspended in time as he processes what you’re saying, and you want to poke his cheek to wipe the expression off his face. Instead, you push his hair back and scrunch your nose while he thinks, peppering a series of kisses over his cheeks and the corner of his lip.

“You’re dangerous, huh?” Dawson finally says. “And you hate hiking that bad?”

“Well, I only really said yes because I wanted to spend time with my cute boyfriend,” you say. “And since I’ve thought of a better idea than hiking, I want to spend time with my cute boyfriend that way.”

Dawson sucks his teeth, then his tongue pokes through the hole in his mouth. You can tell he’s relenting, even a little excited by the idea. He pushes you backwards, walking you off the side of the trail just far enough that you can still see the pathway, but no one can see you in the trees unless they’re looking.

“Right here?” Dawson asks, biting his lower lip and sliding his hands over your waist, underneath your shirt. “Right now?” He untucks his lip and kisses you, then lathers his lips down your neck. 

“Yes, please,” you reply, pulling off his shirt and getting your hands on his sweaty chest. 

Dawson tucks the shirt into his backpack before returning to you, then pulls your shorts down your legs and tucks them away. 

You’re half naked against a tree, feeling much more vulnerable than you ever have been, and you feel very glad that Dawson isn’t moving to take your shirt off. Yes, you suggested this, but it was really a ploy to get out of hiking. You’re not normally this adventurous, true to your word that Dawson is supposed to be the adventurous one, but the thought of being in public does send a little thrill up your spine… in addition to the thrill from the litany of kisses that Dawson continues to leave along your exposed neck, shoulders, and chest. 

“Give it to me, Daws,” you whisper, pulling him up to your lips. He uses one hand to push his shorts down just enough that he can draw his cock out and wrap his fist around it. 

He pets his cock through your folds as he strokes himself to full hardness, letting the tip of his dick poke at your clit and stimulate you to the point that you’re dripping for him. The spongy head of his member leaks against you and helps spread your slick. He pitches his hips forward once he’s satisfied that you’re both completely ready.

“Have you been keeping secrets from me?” Dawson teases quietly. “I didn’t realize you love me so much that you would let me take care of you in front of everyone.”

“There’s no one here,” you reply, just as his tip breaches your hole and you let out a sigh. 

“But you would, wouldn’t you?” Dawson says. “If I wanted to fuck you somewhere way more public, you’d let me, yeah?”

He continues to push inside you with little strokes, teasing you as he draws in and out. He’s filling you, but he keeps sliding out with slow pumps. He’s waiting for you to answer, but he’s not stopping his movements. It feels far too good for you to do anything but moan, so Dawson continues to talk. 

“Maybe for another time,” Dawson muses. “For now, how about I make you come and then we can head home and I’ll give you another one?”

“Yeah,” you agree, clutching at Dawson’s muscles.

He hikes your leg over his hip and drills forward, covering you with his own body. His thrusts are short and pointed, hitting your back wall and causing your mouth to drop open in pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of your tight walls around him.

You squeeze him as you near your peak, only intensified by the breeze rustling through the trees that reminds you that you’re in public and anyone could walk by. You wrap your arms around him, forearms sticking to his skin. One of your hands grip the waves of his hair tightly, tugging slightly with each thrust. 

“C’mon, babe,” Dawson murmurs. “Come on my cock and I’ll clean you up when we get home.”

He speeds up his thrusts, reaching his hand up your loose shirt to squeeze one of your tits. He pinches your nipple and tugs a bit, leaving you whimpering beneath him.

“I can feel you getting closer,” Dawson continues in a whisper, his voice filling your ear like a physical caress. “I want to feel you fall apart.” He sucks your neck, nipping at your earlobe. 

You arch up into him, his cock shifting inside you to hit your g-spot. You reach down and rub circles over your clit with your middle finger, your head tipping back and getting caught on the bark of the tree. 

“That’s it,” he encourages, sucking at the edge of your jaw. “Atta girl.”

Your moans grow high pitched and Dawson covers your lips with his own to make sure no one can hear you, even though you haven’t heard anyone else walk along the path since before you thought to entice him.

You come over his cock, clenching down on him as your body is riddled with shocks and waves of bliss. 

Dawson slows as you come, watching your expression change with the feelings that overcome you. 

When you recover, he’s back to sliding in and out of you, stimulating his cock just enough to stay hard but not enough to threaten his own orgasm if you want to stop. 

“What are you doing?” You groan, frowning and tugging his hair. “Go, Dawsy.”

“Go?” He questions. “Y’sure?”

“Want you to come too,” you reassure him, locking your leg around his waist and lifting the other to join it. Now, he’s pressing you against the tree to keep you in place and he’s reaching a deeper spot inside of you. You’re wrapped around him like an octopus and you’re grinning at each other.

“Okay, baby,” he agrees, starting to move again.

“Don’t hold back,” you instruct, and he laughs.

“Okay, no holding back,” Dawson says, then shushes you with a little peck. “You asked for it.”

He lunges into action, thrusting forward with a determination that leaves you reeling, especially after you just experienced such a strong orgasm. 

He’s quick and hard. He pushes you against the tree and it hurts a little bit, but not enough to make you ask him to stop. You want him to come, come inside you, give you something to clean up later when you get home and he puts his head between your legs. 

The thought of that draws you away from the bark that’s rubbing against your bare backside, turning the discomfort into intense pleasure as you resume your soft circles over your clit. 

Dawson is grunting in your ear, kissing you, holding you tightly and praising you as much as he can before going breathless. His hips are stuttering, bucking against you in an uncoordinated way that signals his impending orgasm. 

“Fill me up, Dawson,” you goad, scratching over his back with your nails, marking him up. You’ll look down at those marks when he eats you out at home and moan louder, making the same kind of noises that Dawson is making now as he crests over.

“Baby,” he moans as his seed starts to spill inside of you, filling you and warming you. He pumps his hips, letting his orgasm run its course. Little noises and pants leave his mouth, lips brushing against your own. “Yeah,” he murmurs, repeating the word as he comes back to himself and the pleasure dissolves. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you agree, rolling your hips a few times, then tapping his shoulder. “Okay. Get out. Time to go home.”

“But I like it so much in here,” Dawson teases, sounding faux-pained just to get on your nerves. He always does this, especially when you guys risk a quickie before you need to be somewhere or meet someone. 

“Mmm, well, maybe you can come back later,” you assure him as he slides out of you and tucks himself away. 

He uses his shirt to wipe between your legs before pulling your shorts up your legs, redressing you and kissing your stomach before coming back up to your lips. “Love you.”

“Love you,” you reply.

He takes your hand and starts to lead you back to the trail, walking down the part of the path you’ve already taken back to the car. “You really didn’t like hiking with me?” He asks. “So much that you’d risk getting a tick– which I’m going to check you for later, by the way– just to convince me to go home?”

“I wanted to work out with my cute boyfriend,” you remind him, swinging your hands between you. “This type of work out is much more fun than walking up a big ol’ hill.”

“I’ll convince you one day,” Dawson teases good-naturedly. “But you know, I won’t complain if you want to do this again.” He flashes you a wink and a big smile, a little skip to his walk that you match all the way to the car.

note: i'm still at work! this is andy from the past! i hope you guys enjoyed this fic and i can't wait to come back and be more active in a couple of weeks <3

[twost3ps]

I have not been doing so hot. I keep on saying that but burnout is actually crazy double comboed with artblock. But after some tears of frustration I wanted to show my swap au so yeyey

Short synopsis:

Lilith, Lucifur, Charlie 🔄 Adam, Micheal, Emily

Micheal and Adam fall after taking the forbidden fruit (it is a pear!) Rule over hell together and then have 7 children- Cain, Abel, Seth, Alclima, Awan and Emily. Hell does its own exterminations every year. Micheal and Adam lead along side with their children who participate as well. Up above Charlie watches in dispair. Her father has told her about the horrors of hell and its deranged rulers. She's the angel of Mercy (maybe I might change that) and wants the sinners of hell to have a second chance. So she goes down to hell without asking and tries to find a way to help save some of the sinners from suffering. In that time she makes friends with Hell's royal family starting with Emily and then comes to realize that heaven is a little (a lot) more corrupted than she thought

So here are some of their busts. I drew emily young bcz this was initially going to be a family portrait but I got lazy but for the au she's her canon age her horns are covered by her hair o3o

So heres a long but not full backstory and info of the au if ur interested under the cut:

Idk why yet why Micheal tempted Adam with the pear but it happened. Because of their betrayal, Adam and Micheal get sent down. But while Lilith is stripped of her fertility, Adam has his humanity stripped. When Micheal recovers, he's greeted with his lover in the form of a wild beast, body stretched, covered in feathers. The only human-ish thing is Adam's face which is essentially looks like a porcelain mask of his face with his eyes closed in a permeant smile unless he opens it and then the mask splits in two.

It takes days for Micheal to calm down the animalistic Adam. It just seems like everything about him is gone. Micheal still loves him, though, so he stays. Adam thrashes around, he screams, and he yells. The abyss is nothing but rubble as Adam digs wildly while screaming. Adam is too hostile for Micheal to comfort so he deals with just watching from afar.

As years roll by as Micheal watches his lover, Adam begins to calm down. He's grown tired and his animalistic rage has subsided. Micheal is able to pet Adam and he can see how tured Adam is. They begin sleeping together again.

All seems hopeless that Adam will ever gain any semblance of his humanity. That is until the first sinner arrives.

Micheal had seen the sinner from afar. He was going to approach, but then he heard Adam. Adam barreled at the sinner and before Micheal knew it, Adam had eaten the sinner with a vile crunch.

Micheal rushed to Adam to see the damage. Then Adam moved and turned. It was then that Adam had spoken properly since the fall. He asked Micheal what happened but Micheal could only stare and cry. They were able to talk for a while and they savored every bit of it.

That joy only lasted for a few hours before Adam became animalistic again.

From then on, Micheal made it his mission to gather as many sinners and feed them to Adam.

Initially it hurt. It hurt a lot. And after doing it for so long, Micheal knew that the sinners would never reform. But that harsh reality paled in comparison to Adam finally having his concise again. Being able to finally talk to his lover and husband was more than enough reason for him.

So time flies and hell is getting bigger and stronger. The population of sinners is also getting bigger. There becomes less spawn killing of sinners but they are kinda checked over like livestock to the royal family.

Hell in this universe is more fairy tale based to differ from whats supposed be a circus theme??? that i get from hazbin. Thats what people say so I'm making my hell the brothers grim x into the woods x shrek.

I want the royal family in fairy tale clothes okay >:(

Hell is essentially far far away land except everything is out to get you. The place is straight up inhabitable as everyone who spawns in ends up having to run away immediately. It's so hard not to die or get hurt. The terrane is unforgiving, the trees are out to get you, the flowers are out to get you, the animals are out to get you, the weather is out to get you, the water thats not whatever is out to get you. Any wrong slip and you can just die again. Sinners are a lot more prone to betrayal and rage because living is just so hard.

There is no pentagram city, its like, a couple of very small town that are ruled by overolords. Overlords are people who just got lucky or got into a contract with one of the royal children. They use their power to stay alive and have some semblance of stability but they are given power to they raise other sinners like cattle through contracts if needed.

These overlords though are pretty... yeah... so they kinda become like those fairy tale villains.

So for funzies, all those fairy tales that people hear on earth are true stories that come from hell that had been told by demons who escape to the mortal realm and whisper them in writers ears as they sleep or some bs like that sdfoeufb

But as stated, exterminations do happen. Like cattle, it is important to save up the stock. You cant consume everything as they come, cattle needs its time to grow. So every year, they let the population grow and on extermination day, Micheal and Adam ride out into hell as they purge a bunch of sinners till Adam eats enough to revert back to human form till the next ectermination.

It's only them that exterminate and collect till their children grow up and join them in the exterminations- fueled by their want to keep Adam humanly conscious. They collect the bodies and then Adam feeds on them after hours to gain his humanity back

Micheal and Adam have their children- Cain, Abel, Seth, Alclima, Awan and Emily

Cain, Seth, Alclima, and Awan become the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse (i went with the good omens version with death, famine, war and pestilence- conquest is not one -yet- )

Cain (death) in very short is like Death in puss and boots with a lot less chill. He does have Death's sickles (I wanted to make them Abel's horns so thats a maybe) He's a mama's (adam) boy and a giant brat

Seth (Famine) Chillest of the siblings. He's a lot like Adam, just not as brash. He spreads famine through locusts that emerge from his cloak. They look like pretty jewels until they fly off. Food rots in his presence during exterminations. He hates when he accidentally activates it when hes eating (he loves snacking)

Alclima (War) She's very tough and brutish. Very honest in her opinions and not afraid to speak about it. Her and Cain play fight a lot. The exorcist army exists but they live as the royal family's castle's soldiers and they are commanded by Alclima. During exterminations, she is the one to lead them in battle. Her presence gives people the rage of war.

Awan (Pestilence) Very eerie girl/ Shes got that dead eye look sometimes and just stares at people. Shes actually very kind and soothing. She's very girly and has a room similar to stockings from paswg. Shes a stem girlie

Abel kind of overlooks them as the representation of chaos. (I wanted the death and chaos are the children of the devil thing to happen so this it) The first attempted murder does happen between Abel and Cain, but since they're in hell magic sooo hahah blam Cain allows his body to merge with Abel out of regret and so Abel kind lives in his conscience but can also switch control over his brother (idk im so done)

Emily is supposed to become a fifth horseman as the representation of conquest. But she young and stuff and only just became an adult so she still maneuvering through it- also sera's here too and she takes the place of Alastor and is a royal advisor to the family sufoauebfoebos

They are all part lion coming from Micheal but their horns are from Adam

Their children are very mixed about exterminations, but Emily has the most issues with it. The family in general feels bad, but family over the people. Emily is just way more emotional about it, especially since she is yet to participate.

Exterminations are very mixed in hell with the citizens because while some have the will to live, some want to truly end their suffering. Many willingly sacrifice themselves and go under contracts with overlords. With overlords, they get to live comfortably as they possibly can but they still hate hell so when exterminations roll around they willingly die.

This is a lot but its not everything. Actually this is all very vauge rn but idk if I want to work on this :p

THIS IS SUCH A MESSKJFBIABFIAEGFIAUEGIdfi

Also a bit of the beast adam deisgn. I want to add some more stuff. do some tweaking but AUAGSDD yuppers i will change some stuff about him later (i forgot his horns)

i dont think i'll do much with this au after this -maybe draw it but i won't write- but it was a fun thought

I'll try to post tomorrow some guitarhero stuff but im so dead IAFBISUEBFGI

[lightlycareless]

Naoya's reaction when y/n's thighs expand 3 times its size when she sits down. For my girlie's that have thick thighs 🙏🙏 plus me. Serious insecurity but damn wouldn't that be Naoya's 2nd favourite thing after tiddies. Definitely would give some criticism that y/n don't exercise enough and that's why her thighs are like that,but would br also smother his face between her thighs? Yes

Hello anon!!

Ngl when I first read this ask (the beginning) I was like HUH? But then I read the rest and was like ugh same. I kind of relate to what you feel, that plus chafing and what not 💀

ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy this debauched piece. :) ehehehe dunno what was going through my head but I liked it.

warnings: NSFW. THOUGH NOT DETAILED, THERE'S SMUT. MINORS DNI. Naoya and the Zen'in are perverts, some more explicit than others. Also misogynistic views, unwanted commentary about bodies.

Happy reading!

You know what I was thinking?

Naoya being so obsessed with your body, that the moment he sees you he doesn’t even bother to make formal introductions or anything; nope.

He just needed to see you sit down one time, one time, unwittingly getting a very detailed look of how your thighs just become bigger underneath your skirt, alongside the adorably cute way you attempted to tug the edge down to avoid revealing too much (Naoya had seen more than enough at that point, of course he did.) and that was it for him to know you’d be the perfect wife.

So, fast forward a few weeks, after making the right arrangements, you’re effectively married to him, “happily” living in the Zen’in estate, where he can keep an eye on you, close to whenever he might need to make use of your wifely commitments—but most importantly, underneath constant scrutiny that not even your role as future Lady of the House could save you from.

The torments you’re subjected to here aren’t ones you haven’t heard before, in fact, you’ve heard enough of them to not care anymore…

But perhaps being married to Naoya, something that many cautioned would probably never happen due to your appearance, was enough to finally make them hurt.

His family just couldn’t… wrap their mind around the fact that from all women in the world, literally anyone else, he chose you: the epitome of laziness as they’d like to say. The sheer example of not being able to control one’s selfish desires in favor of temporary satisfaction.

In a world where thinner, athletic physiques were encouraged, you sure stood out like a sore thumb.

It wasn’t your fault, though. Some people were simply born that way, with different genetics and there was nothing wrong with that.

But to them, that was not enough of an excuse, if there ever was one; and once you heard for the last time how Naoya was simply tolerating you because, well, because of some unknown reason, you had enough.

You were tired of constantly hearing them belittling your worth, comparing you to whichever woman they brought along to hopefully convince Naoya into divorcing you—or at least sow his seeds on a more suitable candidate; a fact made worse when he seemingly didn’t put a resistance to their invitations, chipping away at your confidence.

And above all, you were exhausted of unwittingly highlighting the faults in your relationship, the clear signs that Naoya was never truly happy with you, such as those scarce moments of intimacy the two shared. Those that you didn’t think much of, outside of fear and pain, for he never struck you to be the kind, patient lover (and he wasn’t).

But now that these issues were highlighted… you could only feel sorrowful.

Naoya, while insatiable when it comes to lust, seemed to have only spent the night with you for political reasons. To fulfill his duty of securing the future of the Zen’in—not because he ever harbored desire for you.

Yet, why did you even expect otherwise? For he too demeaned you with cruel commentaries, and with the one thing you were mostly self-conscious about…

“You know, your thighs wouldn’t be that big if you actually worked out or something…”

“Don’t wear that. I don’t want you to show your legs—it’s already unbefitting a woman, but in your case… well, it’s only necessary.”

That was more than enough to finally push you to the edge and do the one thing many were constantly pestering you about: not to eat. Though in your defense, it’s not like you felt like doing so anyways, the voices and faces of those that hurt you were quick to put you back in your place if you even did as little as consider it, ruining your appetite.

And you managed to keep this way for a few days, at least until you began to grow sick, tired, unable to tend to your duties as you did before, which did not escape your staff’s attention, and subsequently, Naoya’s.

“What the fuck is wrong with you??” Naoya would exclaim first thing upon returning from a mission; tired. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with the complaints of your lacking commitment, the only goddamn thing you had to do around the estate. “To go ahead and cause problems to my family, taint my name—have you got no shame?!”

“I didn’t mean to…” you murmur, yourself tired as well, due for other reasons, made worse by Naoya’s reproach.

“Then do you mind explaining what the hell were you thinking? What were you planning to do? Get my attention??” He frowns. “Dramatic, but what else could I expect from a woman like you?”

“Please, Naoya… I don’t feel like arguing…”

“No, of course not. You don’t feel like doing anything, do you? Not even eating!” He remarked. “What? Trying to lose some weight, now? Is that what’s gotten into your mind?”

You remain silent, giving him enough of an answer. He laughs.

“So it is that!” He boasts. “I can’t believe it, Y/N! I didn’t think you’d be so stupid to actually do that!”

“Leave me alone…” you whisper, tears beginning to pool around your eyes.

“To what? Puke your guts out, now? Don’t be stupid!” Naoya continues to jest. “I knew women were desperate, but I didn’t think you’d break the mold!”

His words, perhaps out of your already brewing insecurities, or simply because you’ve grown tired of his mockery, wash you over with an unprecedented wave of anger, dropping your heart to the pit of your stomach as you sharply turn around, ready to take a stand for yourself once and for all.

“And why do you care so much, hm, Naoya?!” You cry. “Weren’t you also one of those that always bothered me about my weight? About how embarrassing I am to your name simply because of the way I look?!”

He flinches, startled by your reaction at first, but soon angered by it as well.

“I won’t tolerate your disrespect—” he frowns, yet you don’t let him continue.

“You even ask me to cover myself up!” you gasp. “You’re so—you’re so disgusted by how I look that you—you wouldn’t mind if I spent the rest of my life locked away so you won’t ever have to see—”

“Do you hear yourself?” Naoya seethes, taking your hand and pulling you to him with such strength that instantly startles you, making you squirm in reaction, trying to move away but he keeps you still, understanding you’ve officially made him furious. “Do you hear the stupidities you’re spewing?!”

“Leave—leave me alone.” You whimper, tears sliding down your cheeks. “You’re hurting me!”

“I ought to hurt you more for insulting me!”

“Insulting… you?” you repeat, confused. “How was this insulting to you?!”

“You think I’d let you walk around the estate like a whore? Let you display what’s mine?!”

“Naoya, you’re not—you’re not making any sense.” You respond, shame settling in your heart. “If you’re going to make fun of me—!”

“You’re fucking stupid, did you know that?” Is all that he says before pushing you against the wall, making you whimper when roughly hitting the wooden pillar behind, a noise that is quickly shut by his lips landing on yours, wasting no time for his tongue to battle yours, subduing you. “So fucking stupid…”

He’d murmur, you moan.

“Na—Naoya—” you breathe, torn apart by his desire and your confusion. Didn’t he… dislike you? “St—stop!”

“What is it that you wanted me to do? Stand aside as my family ogles at you?!”

“Don’t you mean—don’t you mean scrutinize?!” you gasp, flinching when his lips move from yours, down to your jaw, then neck… “Stop—stop mocking me!”

“I should feel offended by your stupidity, if anything.” He responds, pulling away from you to take a good look into your teary eyes—as if trying to assess if you really declared such atrocity, or if it was work of his own anguished mind. “Your blindness to acknowledge what I truly think of you.”

“They—they hate me.” You tremble, why would he want you to remember such an awful thing? “You hate me—”

“No, Y/N.” Naoya groans, pressing closer to you while taking your hand once more to move it down to his groin where his hardening cock was in full display for you to feel, destroying the perceptions you had of everything around you—around him. “This is what you make them feel— what you make me feel!”

“Nao—Naoya—” you tremble, trying to move away your hand from his growing length, intimidated that he somehow felt even bigger underneath your palm; giving the impression his desire for you right now was much stronger than any other instances. But… how? Or more likely, Why? “I don’t—I don’t get it—!”

“Do you really think I’d be blind to the way they stare at you? To their futile attempts of bringing you down, of changing you, just so they’d stop thinking what your skin feels like underneath their fingertips—or how sweet your cunt tastes like?” Naoya breathed, continuing to rub your hand against his cock, desperate to let you know how much he needs his release—how he wants to throw this senseless discussion away…

But not without declaring his upper hand, the one he always had with his family, of course. “But they can’t” He smirks. “The moment I saw you, I knew you’d be the perfect wife, the perfect mother for my children.”

The thought of harboring such desire from Naoya made your cunt tighten, the same way his cock twitches.

“They’re just jealous I got to you first.” He continues. “That I was able to see your worth just by your wide hips and ample bosom—you’re the epitome of femininity… but even better—

You’re all mine.”

“But you—but you said horrible things to me—” you cry, his lascivious words still not enough to remove the pain from those awful moments. “Why…?”

“Aw, my love.” Naoya chuckles, cupping your face with his hands and squeezing it so softly, making you pout, a face he always loved to incite from you, amongst others. “I just can’t help it; your reactions are so adorable; you simply make it too easy.”

His hands then travel down to the edges of your skirt, lifting your kimono just enough to reveal your smooth legs to him, the same ones he always had touch and kneed whenever you were close, the mere sight of them enough to make him further spiral into his desire—

If not anger when seeing the flimsy piece of cloth covering your cunt, fingers quick to grab the edge and rip it apart, letting out a quick gasp from your mouth.

“How many times have I told you to stop wearing these stupidities?!” He hisses. “You know damn well than to go against the words of your own husband!”

“But you—you hadn’t touched me.” You fret. “Since that night, we… you hadn’t—I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“You truly couldn’t be any dumber, could you? Just because I’ve been busy does that mean you can go on and disobey my words?” Naoya accuses with a jesting tone that serves to place the direction of his following actions. “My lovely wife is really that naive… luckily for you, I’m the one in charge of doing all the thinking, while you—you just have to stay like this, ready for me…

To take my cock like the good whore of a wife you are, with that lewd body of yours that is only mine. Exclaiming for me to give you a baby, make you a mother, make your hips wider, your breasts bigger, filled milk—”

And the way your body tightens against him, letting out a moan when his hands parted your legs, guiding his cock onto your dampened slit and gently pushed the head into you, let’s him know this desire has settled in the back of your mind for quite some time, but never revealed itself by the stupidities of his own family, his too undeniably.

But after these agonizing days away from you, forced so by his job, if not those insignificant whores his family brought in an attempt to push him away from you, failing to do so for he quickly discarded them as soon as they crossed his sight…

He’ll never let the opportunity to claim you pass again.

Naoya will do whatever necessary to drill that idea into that little, pathetic mind of yours, even if it means fucking you in the middle of the hallway, where all servants and relatives alike would be able to hear his message loud and clear.

The reality they could only dream of in their most desperate moments—but to him, it was only a matter of taking.

“Naoya—Naoya please—not here.” You whimper, your husband had effectively forced you onto the ground and made you take his cock, either from behind, hands and knees on the wooden floor as he teased and kneaded your ass and hips; he was an avid enjoyed of many positions, but this one had to be one of his favorite ones. To see your skin bounce whenever his hips slammed into you, savoring the way your lewd cunt swallowed him whole, down to the base, with no intentions of letting go, regardless of what you said, it was surprising he still had some restraint. “Please—they’re—they’re going to see!”

“Let them.” Naoya moans, the thought of being caught sends a shiver through his spine; and while it’s not something he necessarily advocated for, the constant, tiring need to be proving his authority over you is what forced him to do so. You might as well play along. “Let them hear how tight your cunt is around my cock! How only I can make you come undone like this—”

“N—No—I don’t—I don’t want…!” you whimper, but even when he changed positions, having you on top of him, giving him sight of the breasts he couldn’t wait to see grow when you’re inevitably pregnant, you still do not stop jumping on his cock, moving your hips up and down alongside his, clenching whenever hitting that sensitive spot that always had you seeing stars. “I don’t want to cum—!”

“Then maybe—Maybe you shouldn’t have this lewd body.” Naoya moans, truly believing that he would never be able to stop himself from using every inch of your body for his own pleasure—from fucking his cock between your soft thighs and boobs, admiring the way they completely cover his cock, drowning it in a combination of softness and his own seed, barely able to see where the tip of his head was…

To relieve that same sensation with his own face, asking you—no, demanding you to smother him with your thighs, a sensation that has him thinking if he were to die this way, cock hard, eased by your soft licks and moans, while deep in the sweet taste of your cunt, he wouldn’t mind it, not one bit.

In fact, he hopes that’s the way he goes.

But he’s in no rush to avoid enjoying the present, the warmth of your body besides him when the two eventually stop, careless to acknowledge if they ever gathered an audience, certainly so when Naoya’s mind was firmly set in getting you pregnant, as heard by his following words.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He declares. “It’s about time you give me a heir.”

And you do nothing but oblige, though you doubted all the cum nestled inside your cervix hadn’t done the job already.

“Naoya, you’re—oh!” You gasp when instead of waiting for you to stand up to properly greet him, he lowers down to your level, taking a seat before eventually resting his head over your lap, taking a deep sigh and resting for the first time after a long week of work. “Is… everything alright?”

In fact, you relished the idea. If it meant getting this side of Naoya’s desire, attention you didn’t think to be deserving of, or even capable of obtaining…. Then you were nothing but obedient.

“I’m tired.” He responds, adjusting himself into an even better position and sighing once more. “I don’t want to talk.”

So, you don’t, preferring instead to softly caress his head, moving some of his silky black threads away from his face and letting him relax, enough to dive into the beginnings of his slumber, but not before clearing his mind from one doubt.

“Our baby—”

“He’s fine.” You murmur, placing your hand over your stomach. It’s still very early during the pregnancy to know so, and yet, there was something about you that just made it so obvious that you were carrying a life inside you—

Perhaps it was the way you glowed, or how you became softer with him ever since it was first announced.

Though the latter was mostly the fact that you started to feel… wanted by your husband, a kind of desire that while far from perfect, was enough for you to change your perspective of this marriage, allowing you to open up to him, mostly so when Naoya now defended you from those unwanted comments from his family.

You’re carrying the future of the Zen’in, after all, some decorum must be maintained.

Yet something tells you his changed demeaner ran far deeper than what Naoya wanted to reveal. «All in due time» you suppose.

“I love you, and our baby too.” You say, instinctively taken by this calm moment of domesticity with your loving husband, not expecting a response considering his somewhat cold nature—only to be proven wrong when he turns around to see you, silently placing his gaze on yours in such way that initially makes you think you might’ve ruined this moment, just for him to pull you closer to him, taking your lips in a soft, quick kiss before returning to your lap, closing his eyes and sleeping.

He may not have said it, but the sentiment was the same, and that was enough for you to be happy.

Naoya is still a jerk, but I like to think he eventually got to genuinely care about you. Also, he got real lucky that one time he thought with his dick, imagine if you were a piece of shit too? NAH He'd lose it. He got real lucky that you were nice, I tell you...

Also, I'm still with the pregnancy stuff :) sorrynotsorry.

OH! and also!! It's safe to say that the things Naoya said are NOT a reflection of what I think!! Everybody is beautiful and deserving of love, no matter what body type ❤️

Now, thank you so much for sending this niche ask... I gotta say, I have been thinking about it since I do relate to it............... but I try to keep my work pretty open-ended so anyone can relate :) Still, if there's something you'd like me to write a bit more detailed, just let me know! I'll be sure to try my best tho, some I might reject if I don't feel like I know much about the matter....

Anyways, thank you so much for this ask ❤️ take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️

[sugusearrings]

( ‘ better .’ ) You keep my hand around your neck, we connect, are you feeling it now? Cause I am. You keep my hand around your neck, we connect, are you feeling it now? I got so high the other night, I swear to God, felt my feet lift the ground. I got so high the other night, I swear to God, felt my feet lift the ground. Oh yeah, Your back against the wall This is all you’ve been talking about In my ears Nothing feels better than this.

— summary: gojo satoru is living a life nobody knows about. not even his two bestfriends. he wants you (fem!reader) all to himself. — genre: super fluff but the end :( — playing: better by khalid — note(s): this song reminds me of gojo so much just being happy and living his life. daddy gojo needs a happy ending and come home already! 😭 but i'm so so sorry for the end please forgive me. very brief mention of smut though. might be some spelling errors, kind of tired and lazy to do rn sorry. — word count: 3k

Satoru Gojo is the strongest sorcerer alive.

He is the honored one.

He is gifted with the Six eyes.

And he is one cocky motherfucker. He always knew about the power he contained which did give him an ego boost. Nobody can tell him otherwise, he is the strongest and honored one.

Many would wonder who would put up with Satoru and his egoistic attitude? Underneath it he is very caring of everyone and he can be funny too. Sometimes. Or at least Shoko and Suguru would say. But they did enjoy their snowy color hair friend and of course he loved his two closest friends.

It was just another day of Gojo bragging how he conquered today’s mission. Shoko was texting on her phone while Suguru was ordering a coffee at the cafe they stopped at because Gojo was whining and pleading to go there since last week. Gojo stopped rambling as his perfect shade of blue eyes looked through the glass of the treats they had on display. Suguru noticed his friend eyeing all the sweets. He knew where this was going.

“Are you really going to waste money on all those sweets, Satoru?” Suguru asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Gojo looked over at the raven hair boy and grinned. It was like he read his mind.

“And why wouldn’t I? Shouldn’t the strongest get a reward?”

That’s when he heard it. He heard a gentle giggle coming from inside. The cafe was small so it didn’t take long for Gojo to see you with your group of friends. He saw the group wearing the same school uniform so it was obvious you all went together. He wasn’t sure if you were giggling at him or with your friends.

But it caught his attention.

He was so caught up staring at you he didn’t even hear the cashier trying to get his attention so they could take his order. He waved them off before making his way over to you.

“That was bold of him.”

Shoko said, reaching to grab Suguru’s coffee for a sip. Suguru nodded. He was taken aback by Gojo's sudden action. His dark hues watched as his best friend brought a chair to sit at your table to talk to you. He noticed the faint blush on your cheeks as you laughed at one of his corny jokes.

“Very bold.” Suguru smiled at Satoru coming back towards them with a cheesy grin on his face.

“Not only am I the strongest and honored one, I am the most handsome.” He announced proudly.

“Is that so Satoru?” He chuckled while taking his coffee back from Shoko. Gojo nodded, getting back on line.

“Very much so, Sugu!”

The two boys looked over seeing you shyly wave at Satoru before leaving the cafe. “She thinks I’m very handsome.” He winked at Suguru then turned to wave goodbye to you.

“She probably said that so you can leave her alone.” Shoko chimed in. Suguru chuckled watching Satoru pout like the brat he is.

“Oh yeah? Then why would she give me this?”

Satoru proudly showed your name on a napkin along with your number. Shoko took it to examine it while Suguru’s bangs draped over her head as he leaned over to read. They were pretty shocked his corny lines actually worked.

“Maybe she’s desperate.” Shoko mumbled. Satoru gasped dramatically, holding his chest with his hand.

“Hey!”

“Name..is very pretty. But she’s definitely a non-sorcerer. Maybe she does actually like you, Toru.” Suguru smiled. Satoru was still pouting, and took out his yellow flip phone. “I’ll text, name right now!”

Satoru grumbled. He glanced over to see his slice of strawberry cake ready to be eaten. He handed the cashier his card and grabbed the bag.

A whole day passed and Satoru received no text back. Of course his friends teased him about how you gave him a fake number. He started to lose some hope. Maybe his friends were right. Maybe you gave him the wrong number just so he can leave you alone. It kind of hurt but he wasn’t going to tell Shoko and Suguru that. He really thought you two hit it off the other day.

Satoru was actually in his dorm just laying on his bed in the dark. He was actually nodding off into a nap when he heard his phone buzz. He groaned quietly, reaching over for it. He assumed it was Suguru texting him to ask where he was. But when he saw an unfamiliar number he furrowed his white brows. He opened the text.

hey satoru. it’s me, name.

He quickly sat up and sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes widening and his heartbeat stops. You actually text him.

heyyy name. wat’s up?

Was that too basic? Was that too dry? Shit. Why did he reply so fast?! Now he looks desperate.

Another buzz.

i’m good! srry i didn’t reply yesterday, i got caught up studying and ended up passing out with my book on my chest.

Satoru chuckled lightly, imagining you so tired you slept with the book in hand.

u probably looked so cute like that.

Buzz.

oh please lol

no seriously! but don’t study too hard, don’t want you too tired you’ll forget about lil old me

i’m sure it’ll be hard to forget someone like you, satoru.

He smiled down at his small screen reading over that text.

You confirmed to Gojo that you were a non-sorcerer without even saying it.

You went to regular school and had a pretty normal life. You were raised by a single mother who works in a hospital as a nurse. You had a younger sibling who was in grade school. You hated math but really loved literature. You wanted to be a teacher not so much a nurse because you saw the long hours your mother worked. She didn’t have too much time for you or your sibling so most of the responsibilities were left on you. Your favorite color was blue ( of course he made a joke it was your favorite now because of his eyes - he might be right on that but you didn’t tell him that ). You also had such a sweet tooth.

Gojo decided not to tell his best friends about you replying to him. Maybe it was selfish of him to keep them out of it, but he just didn’t correct them when they asked about you again. Soon it was forgotten and nobody brought you up. Gojo also kept it to himself of his power, him being a sorcerer. He just told you he went to a good private school. Lucky for him, you didn’t ask any follow up questions.

Whenever he had a long mission and it would be hard to text you back, he would just say he was studying for an upcoming exam. You were very understanding because you were going through the same thing. But when Gojo did come home, he would call you.

You two would speak on the phone for hours. He liked the sound of your voice. He liked the silence you two would share on the phone. It could be a whole hour of silence and he was content just hearing you hum a little tune or curse under your breath while you were looking for something you misplaced. Gojo would fall asleep to the sound of your voice late at night. You would tell him goodnight before you went to sleep yourself. Being with you, Satoru was not the strongest.

He was not the honored one

He didn’t need his Six eyes.

He was just Satoru Gojo.

When Gojo didn’t have missions, that’s when you two spent time together. You two would flip a coin to see if you were going to one of his favorite restaurants or one of your favorite museums. The day would always end at the cafe where you two met. You two would share a slice of strawberry cake and each would take a turn eating the strawberry on top. But Satoru would always pretend he would forget whose turn it was and would let you eat it.

When you graduated school, you did invite him to the ceremony. You swore you didn’t see him in the crowd. But he was there, cheering your name so loud it caused you to flush and get a little embarrassed. After the ceremony, Gojo hung out with your family and they adored him. Your sibling thought he was so funny and your mother couldn’t get over how charming he was.

When it was time for him to go, you walked him downstairs. You insist you would walk him to the bus but Gojo rejected the offer. He didn’t want you walking back by yourself.

“Thank you for coming, Satoru. It means so much to me.”

You told him with a smile looking up at him. Gojo felt his throat drying up and his palms becoming sweaty. He bit down his lip feeling his heart race picking up. You noticed he was awfully quiet. You furrowed your brows. “Toru?”

Gojo leaned down to press his lips against yours. You froze up a bit before you could react, Gojo pulled away quickly.

“I-I’m sorry I-I just couldn’t…I-...fuck!” He yelled, grabbing the bridge of his nose dropping his head. You stood frozen not even noticing him having a melt down. When you finally snapped out of it you saw the dark red on his cheeks with a frown. “I-I didn’t mean to cross the boundaries like that honestly, name. I won't ever do it aga –”

You pulled the collar of his jacket down enough so you can kiss him back. His eyes widened behind his sunglasses. He reacted faster than you did, he placed his hand on your cheek and began to kiss you back.

So you two began to date once the summer began. Did much change between you and Gojo? Not really. Your mother and friends were surprised you two just now became a couple. They just assumed you two were already dating.

He was just a lot more affectionate. He would hold your hand anywhere you two went. He would kiss you while waiting to cross the street or hold you from behind. Gojo would take pictures of you or the two of you whenever he could. When he would pick you up he would have a gift or flowers. Most of the time it was both.

He was the perfect boyfriend. Your friends loved him so much he was always invited when you guys would hang out. Even girls night, they would invite Gojo. They love when he would come for karaoke especially.

Gojo liked this life he had on the side and didn’t have to share it with anyone. He wanted to keep you away from that as much as possible. All to himself.

But at the end of the summer, everything changed.

Gojo was late to come over for a date you both planned. He’s never late to anything. He even shows up at least half an hour early. When you were calling and sending texts over and over, you knew something was wrong. So you just waited till it was time to go to sleep.

Late at night you woke up to a pair of cerulean blues staring down at you.

“Gojo?!”

You nearly yelled startled. He hushed you not to wake up your sibling who was sleeping. You sat up and was ready to ask him so many questions. Like how did he get inside of your apartment? Why was he just showing up now? But Gojo fell onto his knees then broke down into sobs. Tears streaming down his now red cheeks. The cry was from heartbreak. You got off the bed to comfort your boyfriend.

That’s when you found out about his best friend, Geto left.

And everything else.

It took a few days for Gojo to explain everything to you. About curses, his mission, his six eyes, his friends, and everything else. It honestly made your head spin. At first you thought he was mad and just making it up. But once he showed you his infinity and tried to get close to him. You physically couldn't. It was like a force field was keeping you two apart. You were dating Satoru Gojo, The strongest sorcerer alive.

The honored one.

Gifted with the Six eyes.

Did that change anything between you two? No.

You just wish he was honest in the beginning but you understood.

It was a lot to tell anyone who wasn’t part of that world.

Gojo barely left your side since his best friend Geto left him after killing the entire village and his parents. He wanted to kill non-sorcerers like you.

“But Toru, Suguru can just come any day now and kill everybody.”

You frowned as you stroked his white hair as his head was laying on your chest. He liked to hear your heartbeat and cuddle into you. He picked up his head with his beautiful blue eyes staring at you.

“You don’t think I can protect you, name?” He asked you. You shook your head sitting up making him sit up.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You might as well have.” He shook his head. You frowned.

“Satoru, it’s kind of scary to hear your friend wants to kill people like me, who aren’t sorcerers.”

“But he won’t!” He raised his voice making you lean back. Gojo grabbed both of your hands and stared into your own eyes.

“I promise to protect you with everything, name. I swear nobody, even Suguru, will never lay a finger let alone breathe the same air as you. I love you so much, name I can’t lose you too. I’ll never let you be in any kind of danger because of me.”

Your face was heating up while you stared at him eyes wide.

“Y-You love me, Satoru?”

Gojo blinked, realizing he confessed his feelings to you just now. He could feel his own cheeks heating up. He let out a chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I guess I got lost in the moment. Just trying to be heroic to my girlfriend.” He laughed nervously. You giggled and placed your hand on his warm dark pink cheek.

“I love you too.”

Gojo gives you his infamous grin before he kisses you passionately. That same night you and Gojo made love for the first time. It was the first time for you both. Gojo could feel himself becoming nervous for the first time in his life. You could tell he was but you reassured him you trusted him. You love him and he loves you. He made sure to be gentle with your body. He would look up at you with his white thick eyelashes fluttering with his blue hues darkening with lust. “Is this okay?” “I’m not hurting you am I?” “You’re doing so good...such a good girl.” “You look so pretty taking me whole like that.”

It took two days for Gojo to finally lose some stamina.

Satoru felt the weight being lifted off his shoulders when he told you the truth. But he still kept you separated from that life. The further you were from it, the easier it would be to protect you. You weren’t mad but some days it was overwhelming seeing him come home with bruises or blood on his clothes.

There were nights you would wait up for him and he wouldn’t come home till the early morning. You did feel helpless you couldn't do more for him but he reassured all he needed was you to be home waiting for him. But you stood by him for all these years. Especially when he brought in two children named Megumi and Tsumiki to live with you both.

After graduating university, you moved in with Satoru. He became a teacher at his old school and you became a teacher in grade school. You grew a bond with Megumi and Tsumiki. Both knew you weren’t a sorcerer but didn’t treat you any different. They both saw you as a mother figure and adored you.

After a long day at work you walked into the cafe where it all started.

Where you met your husband for the first time.

You could still hear his cheerful laugh and his gorgeous smile.

His eyes practically glowing whenever the sunlight would graze against them even with the shades on.

“Welcome! How can I help you?” The cashier asked with a smile. You smiled back already knowing what you wanted to order.

“Hi can I get a strawberry cake,” you started then paused a bit but the cashier was patient, “sorry I kind of got stuck for a second, haha.” you giggled. The cashier nodded and wrote it down on her pad. “Oh also can you write something on it. “It’s a ghoul?” The cashier looked up with a wider smile.

“Because it’s Halloween right?” She giggled. You smiled again.

“Yeah! ” You handed her your card. She gave the card back once she was finished ringing you up.

“I think it’s cute. You’re practically glowing.” She gushed, making you blush a light pink. You walked over to take a seat. You reached into your purse to take out the sonogram you had done earlier before going to work. You smiled warmly seeing your precious baby resting in your belly. You could see the circle they made with the computer with the “IT’S A GIRL”.

You knew your baby was a girl.

Your hand was placed over your slightly swollen belly. Your wedding ring glistening by the light. You checked your phone for the time then you started to look at all the photos you had of Gojo or the both of you. There were some photos of Megumi and Tsumiki. There was a video you took when you told Gojo the news you were pregnant. He nearly broke the ceiling. Literally. You let out a small giggle. You knew he was going to be over the moon finding out about your baby girl.

What you didn’t know was that

Satoru Gojo

The strongest sorcerer alive,

The honored one,

Gifted with the six eyes,

Was being sealed tonight.

[thisisawonderfulusername]

good luck, babe abby anderson x reader requested by: @fictionalgap and @evelynscoffin summary: based off of chappell roan's "good luck, babe" word count: 3k a/n: this is definitely not my best work because i haven't written anything in so long but i hope yall enjoy it. i also took a wee bit of creative liberty with the lyrics lol

abby has been your best friend since joining the fireflies, when you were nothing but teenagers learning to survive in a cruel world. when life got to be too much, she was there for you, inviting you into her room and bed where you can lay your head on her chest, and you were there for her just the same.

as you got older, it seemed to be more her needing comfort after breaking up with yet another boyfriend that you knew wouldn't last long. or more so, hoped it wouldn't last long.

as a younger girl, you never understood that feeling. why didn't you want your best friend to be happy with a boy she liked? are you protective of your best friend? a good vibe-checker?

you later realized that no. you're not protective, or good at telling when a guy isn't right for her.

you're in love with her. 

and you first realized that three months ago, when you had gotten drunk with her in your room when your roommate was at the fob. she was smiling as she entered your room after a swift knock, kicking off her boots. “i have a surprise for you,” she hums.

“oh really?” you chuckle, sitting up in your bed and setting aside the book you were reading. “what is it?”

excitedly, she turns her back to you as she searches through her bag. seconds later, she's turning around with a grin, a bottle of whiskey held up for you to see. 

your eyebrows raise at the sight as she moves to sit next to you on the bed. “where did you even get that?”

“snagged it from the liquor store on patrol.” she tells you, muscles flexing as she twists the cap off. it's effortless for her, even though it's been sitting on a shelf for who knows how long now. she holds out the bottle, “care to have the first drink?” she smiles cheekily.

chuckling, you grab the bottle from her. you take a long drink, automatically regretting it as you swallow and your throat burns with the liquid's travel. your nose scrunches in disgust, “god, that tastes terrible.”

abby laughs, taking it from you and drinking, “good thing we're not drinking it for the taste.”

-

hours later, you're laying on your bed, the now half empty bottle discarded onto your bedside table as you stare up at the ceiling.

abby lays next to you, finger trailing along an exposed sliver of your skin along your abdomen. she looks at you with a face flushed from alcohol, mumbling quietly, “you're so pretty.”

a lazy smile tugs up on your lips as you turn your head to look at her, tired eyes meeting hers. “you're prettier,” you mumble just as softly. 

she chuckles, turning on her side to get a better look at you. her hand rests on your hip. “that's not possible,” she hums.

it's then that the feeling washes over you. a warmth- that's partially from the alcohol- but it grows hotter with how she's looking at you. like you're the only other person in the world.

to you, in this moment, she is. 

slowly, your hand comes to rest on her cheek as you gaze into her eyes, unconsciously leaning closer.

“can i…” its barely a whisper as your lips hover just over hers, breaths mingling as your heavy eyes gaze into her own that dart down to your slightly chapped lips. you can't even finish the sentence with your breath taken away.

instead of saying anything, she closes the almost non-existent gap as your nose nudges hers, lips meeting like puzzle pieces that completed each other perfectly. her lips are the taste of the whiskey you drank, spicy sweet and so much better than the actual drink. 

when you have to pull apart for oxygen, your eyes stay closed for a moment before they slowly fluttered open, meeting her intense gaze. 

and without another word, your lips meet again. soon, feverish kisses turn to more.

-

when you wake up the next morning, the bed next to you is empty, void of a warmth that once wrapped around your undressed body. you could almost believe that it was a dream, but the bottle on your bedside said differently.

you sigh, getting ready for the day. 

-

It's fine, it's cool

You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth

And guess I'm the fool

With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof

it's impossible to avoid staring at abby's arms as you sit across from her in the back of the humvee. they're just perfectly spread across the top of the truck bed walls, perfectly positioned to show her bulging muscles and the freckles that litter them.

if she saw your gaze, she would never mention it here, where other ears can hear the teasing comments she makes about your wandering eyes when you're alone once again. 

remembering that fact- that she doesn't want people to know- strains your heart as it finally allows you to look away from her, lips unconsciously pulling down into a frown. 

outside of your nights together, abby acted like you were just another one of her friends. when you were alone, she'd whisper sweet things to you as her head rested on your chest and your fingers trailed over her muscles. around other people… she just acted like there's nothing special going on between you.

you let out a soft sigh and toy with the magazine in your pistol, not noticing her quick glance in your direction with furrowed brows.

later that night, after you had taken a shower and laid down on your bed, there was a knock on the door. specifically the knock that you and abby made so you would always know if it was her or you at the door.

“come in!” you raise your voice so she can hear and she pushes the door open. “what's up?” you ask as she crosses the room to your bed.

she shows the movie she holds in her hand. “look what i found,” displaying the title clearly.

“jurassic park?” you question with a chuckle, “where did you even find that?”

“stashed it when no one was looking.” she tells you, opening the case to pull out the dvd.

when no one was looking.

you should expect that she wouldn't even want people to know you shared nights where just the two of you hung out- it still hurt nonetheless. 

“well, let's pop it in.” you grin, grabbing the shitty old laptop you had found in an electronics store, shocked when you plugged it in at the stadium and it actually worked. of course, there were few things you could do. 

but movies didn't require ‘internet’ as you had learned about when you first found the thing and explored all that it had to offer. 

-

“chrome?” you squint your eyes at the icon displayed on the screen, looking to abby as she shrugs. you click the icon and it brings you to a screen with a spinning line, which loads after a moment.

“no internet?” abby questions, her arm behind your back as she uses it to hold herself up, “is there anything we can do?”

with a shrug, you click the x before examining the screen. the square button cut into four pieces catches your attention. when you move the little arrow across the screen, it pops up with a box that showed many different titles.

“dvd player…” you point out, “my dad said dvds were movies that you could put in a tv.” you purse your lips, clicking the title for it to bring up a box with text in the center.

enter disc

humming, you turn to look at her, “looks like we can't do shit without a movie,” you frown, disappointed.

“looks like we have something to look for on our next patrol.” her sentence turns your frown into a smile, already excited for whenever you can watch an actual movie.

“what's minesweeper?” 

-

after settling in on your bed, the two of you cuddled up to watch the movie.

halfway through, she turned to look at you, “were you okay today?” she asks out of nowhere.

you pause the movie, looking to her with furrowed eyebrows. “what do you mean?”

she looks down at the blanket for a moment, “you seemed… off.” she starts, “in the truck?”

breath almost catching in your throat, you avoid her gaze. you hope you're not incredibly obvious. “nothing was wrong,” you lie, “i was just… worried about scars.” it is not smooth at all, but you have to hope she doesn't notice or at least not question it.

her hand gently grabs your chin to guide your gaze to her soft one. “you know you can tell me if something's wrong, right?” she asks gently.

the nod you give her is limited due to her hand still held to your jaw, and you can't trust yourself to say anything without breaking down. 

“okay,” she says almost silently. if you weren't so close right now you wouldn't have heard it. without another word, she leans in to give you a slow kiss. 

-

I don't wanna call it off

But you don't wanna call it love

You only wanna be the one that I call "baby"

You can say it's just the way you are

Make a new excuse, another stupid reason

-

“why don't you want anyone to know about us?”

the question is quiet, but it seems to fill your silent bedroom as you lay in your bed, fingers grazing across her toned back, her skin warm.

she turns her head to look up at you, cheek resting against your bare chest. “what do you mean?” she questions, just as softly. 

you take a small breath and avoid looking into her eyes, focusing on your finger as it traces her muscles. “i mean…” you think for a moment, “we’ve been doing this… thing… for a few months now.” 

when she doesn't reply, you purse your lips. “i guess i just want to know what this is.”

her eyebrows are furrowed as she looks at you. “what do you mean by this?” she asks.

you sigh, closing your eyes and leaning your head back. “us. our relationship.” is that even what she considered it? you've been sneaking around, having these intimate moments- what if it's nothing to her?

you wouldn't be surprised. she hasn't exactly tried to keep it exclusive, getting drunk with different guys and doing who knows what. maybe she has this sort of thing with other people too.

“i… didn't know that's what you wanted.” she tells you after a moment, avoiding your eyes as she focuses on your soft skin. 

you can't help the frown that tugs your lips down. 

“i guess i'm just not ready.” she finally says, still not looking up at you.

the deep breath you take shakes as you think through your next words carefully. 

then when will you be?

what do you even think of this?

how long will you make me wait?

“okay.”

-

I'm cliché, who cares?

It's a sexually explicit kind of love affair

And I cry, it's not fair

I just need a little lovin', I just need a little air

Think I'm gonna call it off

Even if you call it love

I just wanna love someone who calls me "baby"

-

you're tired of it.

the hiding, the secrecy. watching as she goes around to different boys- to owen- it made you sick and you can't handle it anymore.

you can't even stand being in the stadium. it was something you had been thinking for a long while now, but every time abby came to you it made you change your mind. 

but now, abby won't be able to stop you. you were going to tell her it's over, then leave right after.

to give yourself no ability to hesitate once you come back to your room, you grab your pack and fill it with the essentials, your water bottle going into its designated pocket. 

before you swing it over your shoulder, you notice the jacket you wear. tugging it off, the wlf logo stares back at you. you think one last time if this is what you really want before you throw it across the room and grab your bag, leaving the room and bravely walking down the hallways.

when you get to her door, you put the bag next to it, taking a deep breath. looking down at your feet, you use your special knock one more time.

when she opens the door, you meet her eyes. you take a deep breath. “can i come in?” you question, abnormal for your relationship. typically, it's late at night, and you don't even wait for her to open the door.

her eyebrows furrow as she looks at you, clearly confused. “sure?” she answers, not used to all of what's happening. 

nodding, you enter the room, hands meeting each other as you play with your fingers. she closes the door behind you.

“we can't do this anymore.”

you wish you could say it louder, wish it didn't feel like your heart was being squeezed by your very own hand. you're afraid of her reaction. angry, sad, indifferent. anything upset you in multiple ways, so you avoid her gaze.

the silence that follows has you closing your eyes as your hand balls into a fist, taking in a deep breath until finally, she speaks. “what do you mean?”

it sounds dejected and your fist clenches harder. pulling your gaze away from the wall feels like the hardest thing you've ever done, and you think it might be when you see her fallen features.

part of you wishes she was angry instead. if she was angry, it would be easier to justify ending everything. but you have to ignore the rapid thump of your heart.

“i-” you swallow dryly, “i can't keep being with someone who doesn't want anyone to know we're together.”

she starts to say your name, but you swiftly cut her off. “i want to be with someone who loves me like i love them.”

you will your gaze to steel itself as it returns to her, not wanting to break down into tears just yet. abby steps forward, her hand gently reaching out to touch your arm. “i do love-”

“- no, you don't.” you stop her sentence from finishing, stepping away from her touch. “i know you don't because this is what it takes for you to say it. you don't even want anyone to- fuck, i'm nothing to you.”

when she stops speaking all together, just staring with hurt filling her eyes as she tries to spit out everything that she's thinking- you're not nothing to her, she does love you. with all of her heart. 

but she's scared. scared of her feelings, of how other people will view her as different for not being what she deemed was ‘normal’.

when a long beat of silence passes, you finally tear your gaze away from hers, willing yourself not to look at her as you walk past her and to the door. you can't take being here any longer- it's suffocating. and she clearly wasn't going to say anything soon.

your name slips past her lips again, a sound you would love in any other context. “please, just-” but the door is closed behind you before she can even begin to think of how to say what she wants to say. 

you swiftly grab your bag, not pausing for a second as you walk down the hall, trying to control your breathing. in and out at a steady pace, ignoring your rapidly beating heart as you guide yourself.

you don't look at your room door as you pass, focusing your gaze straight ahead so you don't have a chance to think about stopping. 

you make your way to the entrance, your watch showing that it was the shift change for the guards. perfectly timed for no one to be able to question where you were going.

when abby rushes down the hallway to your room, practically banging on your door, you're not there to answer. instead, she throws open the door when you don't respond. her eyes immediately fall to your side of the room as she walks towards it.

everything is gone. your pistol, the water bottle that you kept next to your bed- and when her gaze falls to the floor, your wlf jacket, crumpled up and forgotten.

her hand balls into a tight fist as her jaw clenches, taking in a deep and shaky breath. “fuck…”

-

When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night

With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife

And when you think about me, all of those years ago

You're standing face to face with "I told you so"

You know I hate to say it, "I told you so"

good luck, babe (well, good luck)

You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

with a jolt, abby wakes up, slowing her rapid breaths while she holds her hand to her chest. she looks to her side, reality replacing the dream-turned nightmare.

sitting up, she looks at the guy she had been talking to that day over a bottle of whiskey laid next to her, his chest bare as he slept peacefully.

closing her eyes, she holds her head in her hands. her mind travels to you, wondering where you had gone and how far you've gotten in the year you were gone. would she be able to find you if she tried?

i do love you

you don't want anyone to- fuck, i’m nothing to you

i’m nothing to you.

nothing.

if only she showed you how wrong you were.

but you were the one to prove her wrong. she could only imagine you laughing in her face as you told her you were right.

pinching the bridge of her nose, she finally throws the blanket off of herself, getting her clothes back on to go back to her own bed. she can't sleep for the rest of the night.

taglist (kinda had to start over with it because i lost the original oops) @rosecentury

[ferrarrigirl]

could you do a fic where carlos has children and it just tonnes of fluff? thxxxx

A/N: AHH ty for my first request. I hope you like it xxx Also ignore the pictures idk why they are coming up in a weird order :(

Also Check out my poll for favorite kiddie from the fic

BANG. You jump out of bed hearing something smash out in the kitchen. Immediately you turn to the side, seeing Carlos fast asleep beside you. He must have gotten in late last night and snuck in without waking you. You told him he should stay in Singapore and celebrate the win with the team, but he wanted to be at home with you and the kids. You rush to put your slippers on and move towards to where you heard the loud noise from. Peeking into the kitchen you see your oldest daughter holding a broom while your boy sits on the kitchen stool watching Elena with a guilty face. You step into the kitchen, catching Elena’s attention.

“Oh no, sorry Mama, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s okay amor,” you reply moving to Mateo and kissing his cheek, “but what are you doing up? You should’ve woke me if you were hungry, I could’ve made you something.”

“We saw Papa’s car in the driveway and wanted to surprise him for winning,” Mateo says looking up at you with the same big brown doe eyes his Papa has. You can’t help but break out into a grin, these kids really were the best.

“Well we would’ve been able to surprise you too if Mateo didn’t go and smash the bowl on the ground,” your daughter spills. You giggle lightly, she’s always been the feisty one.

You now move towards her, grabbing the broom from her hand “that’s okay bebe, I can help you both now and we can make Papa a nice big breakfast.” You split the kitchen; with you cooking the eggs and sausage, Elena on fruit cutting duty, and Mateo mixing the pancake batter, the only thing you were sure he wouldn’t mess up. God was that boy clumsy. Within 20 minutes, all 3 of you had the kitchen island filled with a gourmet breakfast buffet.

“Cmon you know the drill,” the kids groan knowing their mom has to take a picture to document this. They would look back and appreciate it you thought.

“Perfect” you say snapping a picture of them standing behind the plated goodies. “Okay you two go brush your teeth, I’ll wake Noah and Luna and then we can surprise Papa.”

As your oldest two kids scurry to their rooms, you head in the direction of your younger boy. You sit down on the bed next to him, “Morning Noah, time to wake up baby”, you say, lightly running your hand through his beautiful dark hair. The same brown eyes flutter open and close as he cuddles into his stuffed Lightning Mcqueen. Ever since Charles gave him that, they’ve been inseparable.

“Nooo still tired Mama.”

“Cmon, me Elena and Mateo already made breakfast and there’s pancakes for you,” you try bribing him. No reply. You try again, “Papa’s back.”

PAPA’S BACK?” He jumps out of bed and ontop you.

“Shhh yes bubba but he’s sleeping,” you say rubbing his back, “So let’s go get you ready and then we can surprise him.” Happy with this plan, you get your third child into the bathroom and ready and bring him out to the kitchen so Elena can watch him. You sigh, only two more to wake up.

You head back to your bedroom, joining Carlos on his side of bed, you lean down and press a kiss to his cheek, “Good morning race winner.” He slowly opens his eyes giving you a lazy smile as he pulls you down into bed with him. 

“Morning carino, what are you doing up so early, come cuddle,” he says nuzzling his face into your neck, pressing light kisses along your shoulder. You lightly giggle while reminding him ‘Are you forgetting the house full of kids we have?”

You feel his smile grow against your shoulder, “I could never,” he jokes back, “I missed you guys so much.”

“We missed you more bub.”

You give yourself another 5 minutes to bask in his warmth while you can, just lying in his strong hold, feeling his hair tickle your ear. These are the moments you miss most every time he has to leave for a race weekend.

“Hmm, alright get up,” you peer over at the clock, “Luna’s gonna be up in 5 minutes, which gives you enough time to get ready, get her and meet me in the kitchen,” you say while pulling yourself out of bed. You drop another kiss to his cheek and as you walk out the door, you can’t help laugh while hearing Carlos groan and mutter “Yes ma’am.”

Back in the kitchen, Noah, Elena and Mateo all sit in the stools lining the island, waiting patiently for breakfast to be served. You’re surprised that they haven’t all rushed to Carlos in bed yet, they must really want to surprise him for the win.

“How long Mamaaaaaa, I’m hungryyyyyy,” Noah whines. There it is you think.

“Soon bubs, he’s just getting Lu.” Moving to the fridge, you grab Luna’s bottle, knowing she’ll be hungry the second she sees you and as you shut the fridge door, Carlos walks into the kitchen holding baby Luna.

“Surprise Papa!” Your kids yell running to Carlos engulfing him in a big family hug. You carefully grab Luna so he can give each of his babies a hug and kiss as they yell different congratulations his way.

He notices the breakfast feast behind them, “Did you guys make all this for me?”

“Si Papa,” says your eldest daughter with a proud grin.

Mirroring her smile, Carlos replies “Muchas gracias mi alma” and gives her another forehead kiss. You stand feeding Lu her bottle, just admiring the way Carlos helps each one plate their food and how the kids tell him everything they loved about the race.

“The DRS move to help uncle Lando was so good”

“You were going so fast”

“I felt bad for Uncle Cha”

“Was it hot”

“Is Uncle George okay”

“I knew you would win Papa”

That last one from Mateo has you tearing up (he’s always been his biggest fan), just seeing the beautiful family you’ve created and how happy the kids are. Carlos notices and comes your way, “Hermosa, why you getting all teary eyed on me hmm?” he says the same big brown doe eyes filled with concern.

“I’m just so proud of you and so happy that we could be celebrating together. Thank you for coming home,” you look up at him through your glossy eyes.

He wraps an arm around you, leans down and places a slow delicate kiss on your lips. Pulling back, he rests his forehead on yours and smiles, “Te amo carino, I’ll always come home to you.”

A/N: omg why did this turn out so adorable. I need Carlos in my life😭. Also please leave any suggestions/feedback on what you liked and didnt

[mysteria157]

Chapter One

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Hints of Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: Don't worry about it.

Summary:

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Toji. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

His hands are so bloody, that if you ever knew the source, you would'nt want someone like him to try. He shouldn't be here, taking up so much of your time, asking for more. But he's selfish.

-or; Toji, a notorious hitman, moves to America for more money and a better life for his son. He didnt expect to sleep with you, let alone want more. When his dangerous life catches up to him, he takes on one final lucrative hit, but realizes this target has unseen connections hitting closer to home. Now he must navigate a perilous job while desperately keeping his criminal double life hidden from you.

Authors Notes: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. As stated in the masterlist, this fic is a continuation from Maneater, so reading that will definitely help set the tone for this fic. I plan to dig deep with this story and really find my voice writing a different genre.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

| Twitter | Ao3| Masterlist | Prologue | Next Chapter

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

…women like you drown oceans -Rupi Kaur

*** You ***

Pop!

The sharp sound of gum expanding and then exploding causes you to flinch, your eyeliner pen frozen just above your lid. Through the mirror’s reflection, you shoot a glare at the open closet door, where your cousin rummages through your clothes.

Pop!

She’s in her own little world. If this were any other circumstance, she would have been scolded for her habit of popping gum—a top offender on the list of annoying behaviors ingrained in both of you since childhood. You detest the sound, and if you were closer, you would have punched her in the stomach by now.

You and your cousin typically get along well, but she enjoys testing your limits to coax you out of your shell. The only way to shut her up is by letting her tire herself out during her talkative rampages or swinging at her when you’ve had enough.

Every day with her is a gamble of which will come first.

Your eyeliner is still hovering by your upper lid, suspended in place as you watch another sundress get haphazardly thrown against the closet wall instead of being put back on a hanger where it fucking belongs.

You can’t bother with trying to get violent with her, you’re way too preoccupied with other thoughts. More incessant thoughts like how to play it cool on a date. It’s not that hard, right? Be yourself, get a gauge of the man trying to impress you, entertain a few hours of your day and then back home to relax.

Easy.

If it were anyone else but Toji, then it would be easy.

You had buried yourself in double shifts and extended hours in the lab just to distract yourself from today. Anything to keep you busy and keep your mind off the fact that someone you are sort of interested in…wants to see you. And he reminds you every day when you look down at your phone.

Despite his admission of being a lazy texter, Toji is surprisingly consistent. But the messages take on a blunt form wrapped around a small pearl of care.

Toji: Eat breakfast. What good are you in a hospital if you pass out?

Toji: Stop taking on more shifts, its stupid. Go home and rest.

Toji: You better not be tired this weekend. 

No matter how hard you try to force your face to stay immobile, each text makes your lips twitch into a small smile. He masks his words in harsh deliveries, but the intention is obvious. The satisfying jolt that shoots up your spine when your phone buzzes with a notification from him should be embarrassing. It should be.

But you love it.

It’s absurd, really. Only two weeks have passed since you met him, hardly enough time to form any meaningful connection. Yet, that night at your uncle’s was unexpectedly delightful. Toji was, against your better judgment, charming and attentive, almost to the point of clinginess. And, undeniably, he’s attractive. And a fucking fantastic lay.

So, despite your instinct to ignore a man and the way they flaunt their feathers for your attention, you want Toji to bring that same energy as last time.

You lean your elbows back into the shiny wood of your vanity, focusing your attention on your eye as you lower the eyeliner to your skin.

Pop!

The sound makes you jump, disrupting your focus and smearing the eyeliner across your temple.

“Rene!” you bark, slamming your eyeliner down on the vanity top with a force that makes your hand sting, and you yank a drawer open in search of a makeup wipe. “Stop popping your gum before I come over there and beat the shit out of you.” As you wipe off the smudged makeup, you catch the reflection of your cousin emerging from your closet.

She embodies a beauty that’s almost blinding, matched only by her lively personality. So naturally, heads turn when she enters a room, her chocolate skin seemingly radiant wherever she goes. With her thick, kinky hair always in a protective style and her unshakeable confidence in her intelligence and appearance, Rene caught Shiu’s attention immediately, and he’s been captivated ever since.

She is one of very few in your family who truly gets you, who sees the world with clarity and understands its nuances and how to navigate through it without compromising her ideals. Since childhood, you’ve stuck to each other like glue. She understands you and your guarded demeanor, you understand her and her loud personality. She’s one of your best friends.

But at this moment, as she stands before you in booty shorts and a tank top that accentuates her curves, her twist out cascading from a pineapple updo, and an outfit draped over one arm, she is pissing you off as she pops her gum againwith a cheeky expression.

“I like your makeup.” A sly grin stretches on her face, enhancing her soft features. You ignore her, feeling your defenses rise as she effortlessly peels back your layers. The liquid eyeliner glides against the smooth brown of your skin, forming a subtle cat-eye as you pretend not to notice her approaching you from behind.

She gracefully settles onto your vanity top, ignoring your lipstick casing that teeters over and rolls across the shiny surface. You shoot her another glare before moving to your other eye. “You should put on some mascara too. When you give him head later today, I’m sure he’ll love to see it run down your cheeks and—”

You swing at her not even a second later, landing a solid smack on the side of her thigh. “UM Ow?!”

“Um?? Shut the fuck up,” you growl, sneering at her with a leveling scowl that you hope cuts through her.

It doesn’t.

Rene snorts, shrugging off the vanity and moving to your bed to change her clothes. As she pulls your dark jeans over her thick thighs, you can’t help but wonder if you should dress more…sexy?  Your jean shorts reveal enough skin, and the jersey fits snugly around your torso. You’re no stranger to dressing to the nines and making heads turn just like her, but you value practicality more than appeal. It’s a football game, after all, and you love football. Why bother looking overly sexy when you’ll be screaming and stuffing hotdogs and pretzels in your mouth?

Despite the logic, a hand of insecurity tightens around your throat.

Rene, like the annoyingly clairvoyant bitch she is, tastes the shift in the air and rolls her eyes at you through the mirror’s reflection. “You look fucking amazing. Toji asked you out—frequently, I might add.”

The memories of his persistence flash through your mind in a rush. Heated touches in the backseat of your truck, sweaty skin sliding against each other, and your mouth dripping with moans of satisfaction were constantly interrupted by his repeated question.

“Let me take you out.”

As if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted more. As if he wouldn’t leave your uncle’s house that night until you flat-out told him to leave you alone.

You haven’t entertained a man since your cheating ex, so your defenses remain high and guarded, fortified with brick and mortar, armed to fend off anyone who comes too close.

But in such a short time, Toji managed to advance further than others with hard skin resilient to your attacks, and a constant insistence to be by your side. He’s spoken to you in ways that would have landed others in the ER, yet his words were always laced with harsh care to make you confront your own overreactions instead of hiding.

“Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

“You’re not mean to men; you just don’t do bullshit.”

“It’s okay to be a little excited about this,” Rene interjects, slicing through the thick current of your anxiety.

And you are, excited and a little nervous, though you don’t respond to her, simply reaching for your clear lip gloss to finish your makeup.

By the time there is a knock on your door thirty minutes later, you and Rene are ready to go. Your curls are piled high on your head, tendrils falling to frame your face and your hairline slicked with curled edges. There’s a subtle shake in your hands wrapped around the handle of your front door, betraying the calm façade you wear.  As you open it, expecting Toji’s familiar face, you’re met with Shiu, a toothpick in his mouth and a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You greet him warmly with a hug, letting him inside. He can only hug you for a second before rushing past you and toward the direction of your room, anxious to see his fiancé. “Don’t fuck on my bed!” you yell after him, loud enough for your cousin to hear.

It’s only a minute later when there’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, shocking you into reality again as you realize that you haven’t moved since inviting Shiu inside. In your stupidity, you look through the peephole and swallow the gasp at Toji’s distorted form.

“I can see your feet. Open the door,” his deep voice cuts, familiar and commanding.

Your fingers curl against the wooden surface of your door, nails scratching lightly along the veneer as you wrestle with the innate temptation to be stubborn. Besides Nanami Kento—another close friend and coworker—Toji is the only man you’ve let talk to you like this. He’s a little bit of an asshole, but beneath his rough exterior lies a tender core that beckons you to peel back the layers like an onion, eager to feel just how soft the bulb is in the center. You’re drawn to him in a way you can’t explain, and it’s a longing that ignites a hunger that you haven’t experienced in a very long time.

With a resigned sigh, you swing the door open to be welcomed by the sight of him, a picture that leaves you momentarily breathless. You swallow the drool that pools instantly in the back of your throat, curl your toes in your sneakers to resist the urge to spring forward and slant your lips against his, and bite the inside of your lip so the twitching on the sides does not turn into a gentle smirk.

“You look good, baby,” his words roll off his tongue effortlessly, his gaze sweeping over you with a knowing intensity. It feels as though he’s studying a heavily guarded masterpiece that he finally has his hands on to steal. He notices every stroke of paint, every blotch that makes you who you are and it’s with a concentration that leaves you dizzy enough to grip the door tighter in your hands.

Though only a week has passed since you last saw him, his presence still grips you with a force that borders on intoxicating. Clad in a black shirt that accentuates his commanding presence, his broad shoulders exude a magnetic strength that summons you, stirring a primal desire to dig your fingernails into him like you did that night in your truck. One of his hands is tucked in a jeaned pocket, the other is behind his back, and jet-black locks brush his cheeks as he chuckles, undoubtedly amused by the dumbfounded stare that you’re still shooting his way. His scar cradles the side of his lips in a seductive curl as he smirks.

God, he’s so—he’s so—

His presence seems to fill the entire room, a tangible force even without crossing the threshold of your home. An urgent ache surges within you, craving the warmth of his embrace, the security of his strength.

“You gonna let me in or just keep your mouth open for the flies?” His voice breaks the reverie in your mind, a well-known blend of annoyance that fills your chest immediately. You’re reminded of how effortlessly irritating he can be, yet there’s a strange allure in his confidence.

At this point, you don’t have a quip loaded up quick enough to shoot back at him. So, you step aside and hold your breath as his large body crosses the threshold of your home.

The last time he was at your door, he barged inside with a barely contained fury and pulled you into an argument that stemmed from your unwillingness to be vulnerable and his lack of expertise in expressing himself. It was a weird song and dance that marked the beginning of something you still don’t fully understand. Now, he’s here with a slightly different demeanor, calm and self-assured as he plants a firm kiss on your cheek as if he’s a hardworking husband returning home just in time for dinner.

You gape at his nonchalance, watching in disbelief as he kicks off his shoes and pulls his hand from behind his back, presenting you a bouquet of flowers in a manner that feels both rushed and sincere. You look down at the flowers, wide-eyed and blinking to make sure the reality you are currently in isn’t actually a simulation.

Daisies.

Not the cheap, wilted blooms you kind of expected from him, but fresh, vibrant flowers. Their white petals gleam softly, each grain of pollen in the yellow center visible in the light of your kitchen. The stems are freshly cut, wrapped in a simple red bow and your chest is fluttering with a severity that unsettles you.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked. And I don’t trust Shiu with an honest answer so…” His words trail off, leaving unspoken sentiments lingering in the air.

 Your lips curl around words that won’t form, and you mentally sort through your book of tricks. It’s a book you’ve spent years filling after countless experiences. Men will do just about anything for pussy. There’s no reason to be shocked at why they do the things they do—they’re all the same.

But even from that first day you met, you have already shuffled through your book when it comes to Toji. Every time you look up whatever trick he tries to pull, you come up with an empty page. There’s never a solution or a pre-written response that you can use. You have no choice but to figure this out on your own and fill in the pages later.

“If you don’t like them, you don’t have to take them,” he cuts into your thoughts, words edged with a trace of embarrassment that he’s trying to cover up with frustration. “Just give them back—” He reaches for the flowers, and you reflexively pull your arms away, much to your own shock at the way your body moves on its own.

“I like them,” you blurt out, your voice not as strong as you want it to be but thankfully steady as the words leave your lips. “They’re very nice, Toji. Thank you.”

He drops his hand, shoves it deep into the pocket of his jeans before clearing his throat and giving you a sharp nod. His eyes take in your face for only a second before they flit away to focus on a random spot in your living room, a hint of blush on his cheeks that makes the fluttering in your chest pick up in speed. It’s a weird feeling that will consume you if you don’t stay in control.

So, you push it down, swallow the pool of saliva in your mouth so it can help the glide, all the way down to the pit of your belly to extinguish the embers that threaten to lick to life. You shuffle past him and into the kitchen to fetch a vase, your mind sorting through the symptoms of various pulmonary diseases to distract yourself from the giddiness of him getting you flowers.

A normal thing. The bare minimum for a man. But it makes you feel great all the same. They aren’t your favorite, not even close, but it’s a gesture that shatters your preconceived notions about Toji that probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“What are they?” he asks, face still pink below his eyes that linger on the countertop instead of at you. You untie the bow at the stems and slide the daisies into an antique vase with crystalline ridges, shooting him a questioning raised eyebrow in response. One of his hands gestures wildly to the vase you are filling with water. “Your favorite flowers.”

“Snapdragons.” Toji throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows pinched together in a clear display of confusion that makes you chuckle. You push the now full vase of flowers to the center of your kitchen countertop, the sight warming your stomach no matter how much you try to stop it. “They aren’t in season, but there’s a vendor here that sells them in the Spring and Fall. Growing up, we lived right next to a river where they would grow. My father would pick them every year and bring them to my mother as a gift. Whenever they wilted, he picked more and replaced them…over and over until they weren’t in season anymore.”

You dig your teeth into the wet flesh of your cheek to stop yourself from rambling, the need to talk more about yourself is at the tip of your tongue. He’s quiet as he takes in your response, eyebrows twitching with fleeting emotion before they smooth out into their usual calm expression. Maybe it’s your eyes playing tricks, but he looks as if he’s locked away your little nugget of information and is ready to move on to the next thing.

More of you.

That gaze is now free of shyness and taking you in, sharp and cutting and rough around the edges, his green irises sliding down to the exposed skin of your thighs, and they must beckon him because he makes his way towards you with a dominating presence that tightens your throat. He walks around the countertop, avoiding the sharp edge from biting into his side and now he’s standing in front of you, looming and dwarfing you without even trying. You catch a whiff of his cheap cologne—a different scent from what you smelled before—but still rich with bergamot undertones that make you more curious than bothered at his frugal mentality.

“Can I kiss you? Or you gonna smack me instead?”

Even though he’s teasing, he displays the growing knowledge of your boundaries and the lengths you will go to protect yourself.

“What, you want to get smacked, Toji?” you retort, lifting an eyebrow at him, your neck tingling from the strain of looking up due to his height. God, he’s such a big man. Big and burly and just enough to overwhelm you in a way that you crave so, so much.

“Nah. I want a kiss,” he confidently responds, blowing away the cloud of lust from around your head.

He’s too close and yet not close enough. He smells too good, looks too good with a voice that’s too deep and melodic for you to ride on logic for a full day, but you need him closer, so much closer and—

Your back brushes against the edge of the kitchen sink, making you tense at the realization that he’s backed you up against it and is looking down at you with that nasty smirk you entertain more than you should.

“You…” you begin, trailing off when one of his muscular arms reaches past you to rest onto the counter on one side, still giving you an escape route even though you’ll take being trapped against him any time of the day. “You already kissed me on the cheek when you walked in without asking me. Don’t be stingy.”

Toji clicks his tongue in disappointment, the sound pushing a rush of electricity down your spine that’s generating too much energy between your legs. He shrugs, broad shoulders pulling up and down, stretching his shirt in the most delicious way. “That’s not enough.”

Although lust is darkening your thoughts slowly despite your resolve, you still have enough common sense to remember the kind of woman you are. You’re someone unwilling to tolerate fuckboy behavior and would rather humiliate a man than give in to temptation that would only embarrass you in the future. You have to stay in control. Just for the rest of the day to measure his intentions with a level head. Even though you feel heavy with lidded eyes, you slip into that second skin of yourself with ease.

“Ask nicely,” you whisper.

He takes the bait—like they always do—and slinks further into your space, his broad and muscular form brushes against your softer one. Your gaze remains indifferent as he asks to kiss you in a sing-song voice that’s borderline annoying and teasing, threatening to make you laugh despite your resistance.

You take in his question with a noncommittal hum and slide a hand up the soft fabric of his chest. The muscles underneath flex and twitch beneath your palm, echoing memories of that unforgettable night when you could slide your fingers on the sweat of his abs as you rode him for all he was worth.

Your hand rests against his cheek, watching as he slowly falls for your trap, inhaling deeply with his lips a mere breath away from yours before you speak calmly and softly.

“No.”

You stroke his cheek in a soothing manner before patting it a little too hard that’s close to a smack, yanking a grunt of frustration from him as he pulls away with an bothered growl. You relish in the sigh of his scar twisting when his face curls with annoyance, his eyes rolling and his arms folding across his chest like a child being denied dessert. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, growing in intensity as his eyes narrow at you.

“You’re so damn annoying,” he pouts, and the fact that he truly looks put off for not getting a kiss only makes you laugh harder.

***

The sight and sound of cheering fans excite you, filling you with childhood memories of games with your father. As the four of you make your way through the large parking lot and in the direction of the stadium, you take in the display of emotions that cross Toji’s face as he is immersed in a part of culture unfamiliar to him. The intricacies of American sports are puzzling to Toji, you realize. While you wave excitedly to the fans who are tailgating and grilling food and playing cornhole, he looks on in disbelief. When you explain the concept of tailgating to him, his expression deepens even more. He doesn’t like the hecklers that litter right outside the entrance and try to sell nosebleed tickets twelve times the market price. He thinks porta-pottys are foul as he takes in the long line of people who wait along the side of the large parking lot. You can tell he’s a little overwhelmed, and aggravated by the new things he learns. But he doesn’t complain, content to listen to the three of you as he watches his surroundings.

Despite the array of emotions that engulf him, he keeps you by his side without a second thought. The closer you get to the stadium, the thicker the crowd gets. When you make it through security and begin the long journey up the stone circular walkway of the stadium, Toji wraps a muscular arm around you and rests his hand on your hip in a grip that conveys a protective strength that shoots fluctuating reactions through you.

At first, you think he just wants his hands on you, and you’re prepared to smack his touch away. But then your perception shifts; a random man bumps into you with a sharp elbow into your arm and he turns around with an angry expression ready to yell. The glare that Toji levels at him leaves the man sputtering and apologizing before he slinks back into the crowd.

Normally, you don’t thrive off blatant displays of masculinity, but the sight of the man running away from Toji’s imposing stare makes your stomach fill with a deep-seated lust that surprises you. Like you’re a cavewoman, watching her caveman beat at his chest when another caveman gets too close to you. Toji grumbles to himself about the sheer number of people, his voice tinged with frustration even though his reassuring touch is gentle as he guides you through the throng of people toward your seats.

Thankfully, they aren’t nosebleeds, and they give you a good view of the field, with players already warming up. There is a large group of kids who hang off the rails, squealing in delight as their favorite players come and say hello and sign their jerseys and footballs. The speakers boom with music and commercial ads, the warm air carries the smell of popcorn up your nose, and your blood pumps in excitement.

It has been a while since you attended a football game, distant memories of sitting on your father’s shoulders as you both cheered in the stands. Since his death, you haven’t had the drive nor the time to attend another. So, to be in this position again with a man you are still trying to understand, it’s odd. But it’s not unwelcome and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it. When you watch football at home with your family, you’re a different person. You are loud and unashamed to express your feelings when you watch the games unfold. You stand up and sneer and bark at the officiant who can’t even hear you. You argue with your family about plays and players who will never know you. You love every emotion that the game brings out in you, and you’re unashamed to hide it. Toji is going to see a side of you that will either push him away or make him slink closer for more.

So, when the game begins with the kickoff, you join in the collective screams of the crowd, waving a towel in the air adorned with the yellow and black of your favorite team that is playing.

To your surprise once more, Toji did his homework. He effortlessly explains the rules as you both watch the first quarter together, looking to you for approval to make sure he’s correct. His attentive nature transforms into active participation as he cheers alongside you, his voice deep and booming compared to your screeching.

In the second quarter, there’s an injury on the field and the clash of pads ceases for long enough that fans leave their seats for food and to stretch their legs. Shiu and Rene disappear to get themselves a drink and it’s just you and Toji in the middle of empty seats.

“You’re a screamer,” he teases, his voice low and appreciative as he leans on his thigh with a cheek resting on his fist. His hair flows in the warm air before settling on pale cheeks.

“Too loud for you?” you retort, even if mildly curious about what he thinks of this side of yourself.

Toji purses his lips as he regards you with relaxed eyes. “It didn’t take me long to realize you’re not a dainty little thing. And besides,” A smile stretches across his face, white teeth glinting with a sinister disposition before his lips load with a remark you know will be salacious. “I like my women loud.”

You can be loud if he wants you to be. Preferably in another place besides your car where he can thrust like a man mad between your legs and dig those gleaming white teeth into the skin of your neck—

Oh.

For fuck’s sake. 

Your blood simmers in your veins at the suggestion in his words. His eyes watch your throat when you swallow a thick pool of spit and that smile grows impossibly larger, a Cheshire cat looking at you with nasty intent. He’s too aware of the effect he has on women, and you have to look away from him to resist succumbing to the seductive charm that he wields naturally.

You steer the conversation back into your hands. “You were so curious about me when we first met but I don’t know much about you. Are you here in America for a reason? What do you do for work?”

In your own line of work, observation is key; every subtle cue from your patients holds significance, revealing layers of truths that they usually try to conceal. So, when you notice the tension in Toji’s jaw at your question, the way his features contort subtly, it’s a detail you slot into a drawer of curiosity that takes part of the file cabinet of Toji in your mind.

“I’m a private investigator,” he confesses harshly, catching you off guard. It’s a revelation you don’t anticipate. His imposing features give you the impression of a firefighter or maybe even a cop. Not someone watching others in his car, bugging houses and apartments, and gathering evidence. A PI? You open that drawer of curiosity again and slot away this information as well. He shrugs away the awkwardness that your silence brings, nonchalant and dismissive, avoiding your gaze. “It pays the bills. The hours suck sometimes but…the work is easy.”

“So…naturally I can’t really ask about the things you do?” you don’t hide the inquisitiveness that coats your words.

“It’s nothing glamorous enough to talk about.” And that’s all he offers you in response.

You have a myriad of questions swirling in your mind, each vying for attention from a man who is as tight-lipped as you. How did he even get into this kind of work? Who are his clients? Cheaters, embezzlers…or criminals?

That and so much more brew in your mind, tumbling over the other but ultimately dissipating when you sense his reluctance, evident from his still-averted gaze and tense shoulders.

“What about family? You asked me about mine, but I never got to hear about yours.”

Granted, you only told him about the members of your family who danced in your backyard when you both were wrapped in one another two weeks ago. He doesn’t know about the more intimate parts of your family life. He doesn’t know about your father’s death, or the estrangement of your stepfamily. But that can come later. Toji hasn’t given you enough of himself.

Toji’s features now morph into disdain, souring the air between you. The bright emerald of his eyes dims with a grayish overcast, the liquid of the irises hardening like cooling lava.

His response is terse, laced with palpable displeasure that intensifies the acrid taste in the air. “There isn’t much to tell. I don’t get along with them, and they do their best to not get along with me either.” The timbre of his voice is lower, menacing enough to let you know it’s a subject he won’t entertain. At least for right now.

You open your mouth to speak again, to maybe apologize for making him uncomfortable, to reassure him that you wouldn’t judge him over something like this. He shifts in his seat, clasps his hands together and absentmindedly picks at a callous on the side of his thumb. The pink flush on his cheeks is not one of bashfulness, but of frustration and embarrassment. From the sliver of his eyes you can see, there is something simmering beneath the surface that might take you a while to unveil.

 “I do have a son, though.” The sentence shoots into the air and down your spine with a chilling clarity, breaking the flow of your thoughts as you blink in astonishment.

Pardon???

Considering he’s a grown man a few years older than you, it’s understandable. But the notion of him being a father never crossed your mind. The concept of children isn’t foreign to you; you see and take care of them every day. It’s the concept of children coming from him that’s a new development you have to consider.

While you believe you can handle a relationship with a single father, you’re upset at being told now, rather than before.

“You were with me all day two weeks ago and you never took the time to mention you have a son?”

You don’t hide your irritation. Once your trust is lost, it’s almost impossible to regain. Why would you give away sacred pieces of yourself to a man you wouldn’t trust to hold those pieces with care?

Despite your frustration, you rationalize.

Maybe Toji was nervous to bring it up? Some people may like to ease into such topics. This relationship, or whatever this is, is brand new and smooth. There haven’t been any cracks caused by arguments or behavior that is damaging.

But this isn’t about having a job that he’s not proud of or admitting that he is not financially responsible. This is about an entire child, a facet of his life that he cannot hide away. How long would he have waited to tell you if the topic of family hadn’t come up so soon? Would he have told you? Would he hide his son away and push him off to a babysitter on date nights so you are never aware? Would he sleep over at your house, so you can’t see the room that’s decorated for a child or the toys scattered about the floor?

As you wrestle with the growing anxiety that crawls across your skin, Toji fumbles for something in his pocket, his face a satisfying beet red as you watch him hand you his open phone. Bright from the illumination of the screen, you take in a picture of a young boy who bears a striking resemblance to Toji. His raven locks spiky and disheveled, his green eyes sharp and ethereal, and he wears a bored and calm expression just like his father. The chubbiness of his cheeks and innocence in his eyes tug at something in your chest; he can’t be any older than six years old. The sight of the boy makes you think of the many kids you take care of every day, and some of the frustration subsides within you.

“His name is Megumi,” he informs you, shy despite his rough exterior. He picks at the callous on the side of his thumb again, and one of his legs begins to shake in place.

The frustration dies down more. It’s a beautiful name, and as you look at the picture, a small smile tugs at your lips. You wonder what kind of a boy he is.

“Fuck listen—just I-I’m shit at this.”

You look up at him and take in the apprehension on his face. His lips are downturned in a gentle frown, the scar on the side of his face warped along with the muscles of his mouth. There’s a sense of shame in his gaze, and it somehow makes you feel relieved to know that he can feel just how upset you are.

“I don’t date women…I fuck them and stay around until they want me gone.” He doesn’t bother to sugarcoat his words. They shoot out of his mouth, piercing your skin with their directness. It’s a little painful, and you struggle to absorb his blatant honesty, feeling flashes of anger and indignation fill your chest as your lips part, ready to respond with directness of your own. “But you’re the first woman in a long fucking time that’s made me want more. So just…” he trails off, stuttering over what to say before ultimately growling low in his throat into silence.

You hesitate, lips flinching and syllables of fury dissipating in the small space between your top and bottom lip. “You gonna let me meet him?” you snap because you’re still mildly irritated as you give him his phone and pinch the muscle of his bicep with a harshness that reflects your fading anger and your desire to see him squirm for his actions.

He swats your hand away as if you’re a pest, moving his arm from you with a sneer that holds no malice. “No let me just lock him in my closet every time I want to see you—of course, I’ll fucking let you meet him.”

You throw him a withering glare, ignoring his sarcasm, and the smirk that slides onto his lips only makes you want to either smack or kiss him. The fact that you can’t decide on which only annoys you more.

*** Toji ***

“Gimme two hot dogs and a pretzel,” Toji mutters to the concession stand attendant. It’s halftime, and the walkways behind the stands are crowded with fans hurrying to go to the bathroom, or for more food and alcohol. You stand close to him, a welcome warmth that he wants more of but refuses to ask for on the off chance you deny him. He doesn’t feel like pouting for the rest of the day.

“And what’ll it be for the lady?” the attendant asks with a level of humor that is off-putting, a smile on his face that Toji knows you itch to smack off.

“It is for the lady,” you correct, a hint of condescension falling from plush lips that you still won’t let him taste. The attendant sputters, his face red as a tomato as he takes the rest of Toji’s order, doing his best to ignore the deadly glare you shoot him as he counts Toji’s money. A snort rattles from Toji’s chest as he watches you. He’s known from the beginning that you’re fiery, but seeing it firsthand fascinates and arouses him at the same time.

This environment is different for him, odd in every way, and a foreign ground that he’s unsteady on. The celebratory atmosphere reminds him of the loud laughter and fireworks from festivals that he could hear outside the Zenin compound throughout the year. He thinks of the Tanabata festivals he never got to experience or the years of Hanami that he was forbidden to enjoy. He could only take a small bit of pleasure in cherry blossoms in the Zenin gardens, blooming and scattering their petals on the well-kept grass to mark the beginning of the season. As a child, he was never allowed much. He was seen as ‘inferior trash’ that was insignificant and unworthy to be looked at let alone talked to unless it was to yell or belittle. Naturally, his family didn’t want others to see where said trash came from if they could help it.

He can’t think about it right now—he won’t. The thought of his family brings a tight coil of pain and anger in his chest, a coil he had used as fuel to cope with his dangerous decisions.

There’s so much more that he needs to focus on, like the fact that you’ve already taken a big bite out of one of your hot dogs. Half of it has disappeared from your hand, and there’s ketchup on the edge of your mouth as you chew. He notices the way you shift your hips from side to side in your seat, and the satisfied hum that escapes your throat. You’re satisfied, and while you eat with manners, you don’t hide your boisterous enjoyment, finishing one hot dog and moving on to the next, your pretzel wedged between the meat of your seductive thighs.

He’s been trying to be respectful all day ever since you denied him a kiss in the kitchen, but you’re tempting him. When you answered the door earlier in the afternoon, the hand that was in his pocket pinched the side of his thigh until the shameless thoughts could fade away.

You’ve graced his presence with shorts and a jersey, a yellow and black number that lays against your chocolate skin in a way that still seems to make you glow in the setting sun. No braids this time, your natural curls have fallen from your bun after screaming so much, framing your face and causing your gold hoops to wink at him. You didn’t wear makeup that night when he met you, so the sight of eyeliner on you today, and the way it accentuates the curve of your eye and the heaviness of your long lashes, it makes him shift in his seat.

He’s had to clench his jaw and bear the pain of his teeth grinding against each other to stop himself from ogling at the mouth-watering canvas of your legs. You’re all curves with dimples at the bottom of your thighs when you sit, and his gums ache to sink into the flesh so you can squeal and beg for him to touch you where you want it most. It’s been weeks since that night and he’s feigning for more. When you smile at him or shoot him a glare, it reminds him of that commanding aura you had in the backseat of your truck, and the back of his neck prickles with sweat.

While the thought of you skinning him alive if he decides to be a Neanderthal turns him on, he wants to be civil. In your kitchen earlier today, you allowed him to get close enough to feel the heat radiating from your skin, to catch the scent of coconut from your curls, tantalizing his senses until your firm ‘no’ sobered him up immediately. It was a stark reminder of who you are, and how little you tolerate.

He'll behave.

His eyes catch you guzzling down five heaping gulps of your beer, the foam coating your upper lip. You wipe it away with your finger, sucking the digit into your mouth, and popping it out completely oblivious to how sinful you look and Toji’s catapulted into that day when you sucked your own cum off his fingers.

He has to behave.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket sours his mood immediately, turning his gaze from your form as he digs into his pocket. It’s the third time it’s buzzed today, and he knows who it is. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he can only put off his job for so long.

Unknown: Good job on the assignment last week. 

Unknown: Your pay should be in your account by tonight.

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

“Everything okay?” Your voice pulls him from his phone, and he meets your curious gaze, one of your elegant eyebrows lifting in question as you assess him. “Something with work?”

“Yea,” he replies and regrets it immediately.

Lie #1

It’s not a complete lie—it is work—but the details…

Toji takes a long swig of his beer, attempting to soothe the shame that washes over him.

You really are a screamer.

Toji sits back in his seat, watching you with a wicked smile as you unleash a torrent of colorful language that makes his cock twitch. Even though you roar with the crowd, your voice rises higher.

“That’s a fucking flag! I should come down there and officiate for you instead you stupid piece of shit!”

Your curls brush the skin of your cheeks that puff in your frustration, your arms folding across your chest as you cock your hip and growl beneath your breath. You’re easily the loudest one in this section of the stands. Rene revels in it, egging you on by rooting for the opposite team and giggling when you bark at her. Shiu is content to watch the display, a fresh toothpick in his mouth and an arm over Rene’s shoulders as he idly twirls a lock of hair at her nape. You’re all yelling and sputtering indignation as you watch the game unfold, your team losing by what Toji has learned is a touchdown.

He knew this side of you was there. He could tell in the weight of your gaze that night. It's a side of you that he did not expect to see so soon. He soaks it in. He takes in the way you cuss out the man three rows down who won’t stop glaring at you. He absorbs how high-pitched the screech of your voice makes his eardrums shake, and he revels in the smile that forms on your lips when your team scores the game-winning touchdown.

When there are lulls in the game, you tell him about your career. You’re a pulmonary pediatric fellow at a hospital here in town that’s only a year and a half from completing your fellowship. You smile when you talk about the kids you take care of and your associates at work. You’re proud of your research and of how far you’ve come.

All of it, every part of you that you show him, is comforting. Warm despite how cold you appear. It’s a comfort he didn’t imagine having…ever in his life—especially a dreary life like his. But he soaks up this—you—as much as he can.

When the game is over, you’re elated and giggling, tucked into his side as he guides you through the drunken crowd. The moon is high in the sky, and it bathes your skin and makes you stand out in the crowd. You look up at him, smiling softly with a buzzed gaze that’s two beers deep.

“Did you have fun? Not bad for your first American game?”

“You screamed the entire time,” he teases, chuckling at the way you gape up at him and then sneer before turning away. He throws his arm around your shoulders, using the touch as a safe territory to keep his hands to himself, and pulls you closer.

You demand cotton candy which he indulges in as well before you both part ways with Rene and Shiu. The journey back to your apartment is a quiet one. As Toji drives, the warm July air fills the car, mingling with the faint strains of classic rock playing on the radio. Toji watches with flickering glances as you hum along, your eyes closed and the breeze wafting through your curls loose around your shoulders.

Something inside of him rattles. Whatever it is, it’s long-forgotten and buried deep within him, surrounded by cobwebs and dust that have accumulated over time since that dark day years ago.

*** You ***

From the short journey of his car to inside of your apartment, you repeat to yourself that you have to take this slow, for your own peace of mind.

You keep the most intimate parts of yourself locked away and only those who are worthy of you have a copy of the key. But somehow, and in such a short time, Toji has stolen a copy for himself and slotted the key into the door. But thankfully, the door is caught against the wall, hinges rusted over and ungiving.

You have to know more about him before you let him in to look at those parts of you. If you jump the gun and give him more so soon and end up hurt, it will throw you into a depth of pain that you promised yourself to never touch again if you could help it.

“You have a good time?”

Toji’s voice breaks the silence, his arms folding tightly across his chest, betraying the restlessness in his hands. His messy black locks, tousled by the late July humidity, partially hide his emerald gaze, which flickers briefly to meet your own before darting away.

Your socked feet pad across the hardwood floor, closing the space between you, and your head slowly tilts to look at him. Despite his façade of composure, his scar curves against his lips in a slight twist, twitching as he tries not to frown. Thin eyebrows pitch down in frustration, and you catch the way his fingertips drum against the skin of his biceps. He’s fidgety—nervous. Is he upset with himself? Ashamed that he couldn’t take you out on a proper date with dinner and a movie like everyone else expects?

Hopefully, he will learn that you go against the grain of proper in so many ways.

“I had a great time,” you confess softly, noticing the subtle relaxation in his stance at your words. The thrumming of his fingers stop, the tension in his shoulder fades. “You wanted to take me out and I let you. That all you want from me?”

He’s such an expressive man.

His face twists, perturbed by your bluntness and the prospect of delving into emotional territory. “I told you already that I want more.”

His declaration sends a fluttering through your heart that is reminiscent of the feeling you had when he surprised you with a slice of yellow cake. It’s comforting, and you want to lean into it. But it’s not enough to overwhelm you. You’re still in your right mind and still aware of your expectations even though he captivates you.

You press your finger into the firmness of his chest, hard so that the muscle pillows around your digit. The gaze you shoot up at him is unyielding, serious, and menacing enough that he straightens his spine just a little.

“Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. I’m not saying things need to be serious with us but…you need to show me that you mean it.”

As you speak, you assess Toji, who shows no signs of amusement or ignorance. His posture is rigid, his back ramrod straight, and his deep green gaze locked onto yours.

“That night we had was great. I won’t deny that but…I won’t compromise my expectations and I don’t tolerate bullshit. I’m not going to let you fuck me just because we did it before. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

You relish in the way his eyes widen, contemplating your words and the severity beneath them before his face smooths back into its usual cool demeanor. He unfolds his arms from his chest, and you curse inwardly at the way you immediately watch his shirt stretch across defined pectorals.

“You know you’re a feisty little thing.”

Heat from the way he speaks and annoyance at his lack of attention flare within you like wildfire. You open your mouth to yell, to bark at him to be serious, but the sound of his laughter extinguishes that fire inside of you instantly.

He doesn’t offer an apology for his comment and you don’t need one. You know you’re feisty and steadfast. It’s the only way you can function around men to survive, to stay afloat and still have a grasp of who you are. And if Toji couldn’t handle it, you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him or entertained a date that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“I’ll try,” he finally offers, voice soft but filled with conviction. Normally the small remark would offend you, but surprisingly coming from Toji, it’s enough.

Observing his behavior today and a little bit two weeks ago, you note his acceptance of your quirks and individuality—at least the bits you allow him to see. He marveled at the amount of food you ate and joined alongside you. He let you babble to him about every single player on your favorite team and how many championships they had won. He let you display your strength in your voice and personality, didn’t try to control or overshadow you like so many other past experiences you’ve had before learning how to rule the men in your life.

He let you be yourself.

And that thought makes you finally open your mouth to give him something he had asked for earlier, something you had previously denied despite your own desires.

“You can have your kiss,” you offer with a shrug, feigning nonchalance even though your heart picks up in speed as the implication registers on his face. “So you better do it right.”

It’s an invitation that he snatches away from your imaginary hands and tears open with thick fingers, greedy and growling with finality.

His sharp gaze traces the contours of your body, unabashed in its appraisal, leering at the pieces of skin visible to him. You know he’s been looking at you all day, but his observation now is intense, heavy and without reservation and you’re fumbling from the sudden rush of longing that pumps hot through your veins.

Toji inches closer, your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, his towering presence overwhelming your small stature. His height ignites an evolutionary desire in you that makes your mouth water, makes your cunt pulse with need beckoning for him to fill the mold he left inside two weeks ago. You’re still not used to climbing up the summit of him, so the air is thin once more, pulling the oxygen from your lungs and stuttering in your chest when a large hand cups the side of your neck and tilts your face up to him like an offering.

When his lips slide against yours, your fingers in his shirt tighten. His touch singes the ends of your nerves, boils the blood in your veins that pump fast throughout your body. Your skin is burning, searing when muscular arms hoist you up and wrap your legs around his thick waist before your ass is sliding on the cold marble of your kitchen counter, your lips still sealed against his.

There’s so much of this that feels like that night at your uncle’s. So much and yet not enough.

He drowns you with his touch, digs his fingers into the plump flesh of your thighs before yanking you, hard and with unforgiving impatience, closer to his body. The fabric of your jeans rubs too harsh against your wet panties, digs against the sensitivity of your clit and you repress the insatiable yearning to roll your hips against his.

Toji’s large hands slide up your body, traversing the mesh of your jersey that hugs you before cupping each side of your face again to tilt you sharper in the way he wants. Blue raspberry from the cotton candy you both indulged in after the game coats his tongue that licks your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, and you grant him access, surrendering a whimper into his mouth as his tongue slides sinfully against yours. Tastebuds kiss your own, slide against them with whispered promise of satisfaction if you just relax and melt further into him. Just a little.

But you can’t, god you can’t.

You’re losing control and you have to stay strong. You have to stay above the waters of logical thinking even though you’re sinking with every stroke of his tongue, with every sweet, hot breath into your mouth, with every inch of flesh that your fingers dig into his chest because you need more. More than a kiss, more than what he’s offering, and you know he can give it to you. Toji can pull you into the inferno he’s raging inside of your body until your clothes are scorched off and his skin is sliding against yours sweaty, sticky, and undulating with every roll of his hips.

But he doesn’t give you more. He doesn’t pull you further into that fire.

The intensity of his kiss dies down slowly, his lips pulling away from yours with a wet smack as you pant along with him. Toji kisses your lips once, then twice, nips your bottom lip to seal everything he’s given before smirking down at you. Too devilish and arrogant and you don’t have a working brain cell in your head right now to correct him. His hands that cradle your cheeks slide down to your upper arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before he speaks.

“You still gonna let me be nice to you?”

His words are an echo of that night, his own way of telling you that he’s here. That he wants more—that he wants to give you more. You just have to let him.

With your head still swimming and the pulsing between your legs refusing to calm, you want him to be more than nice right now. But remembering the boundaries you have set, you nod instead and sigh into him when he kisses you one last time, sweeping his blue raspberry-flavored tongue against yours before pulling away, acting as though it’s nothing, as though you’re not sweaty at the small of your back and trembling with desire.

“Lock the door for me,” he commands, words devoid of a questioning tone, but filled with a sense of security and protection that you lean into.

“O-okay,” you manage to breathe, your heart slowing back into sinus rhythm, only to jump again as he places one final kiss on your lips, then your nose. You frantically bat him away before you lose consciousness, because any more and you’ll drag him into your room and disregard everything you said five minutes ago.

 You watch him saunter away, pull his keys from his pocket, and twirl them in his hand before winking. “I’ll text you.”

It sounds so ridiculous coming from his lips, from a grown man who looks as if he doesn’t even know what a cellphone is, let alone a text message.

But it still makes your heart jump all the same.

You can only nod in response because your throat is too dry and heavy in the back of your throat with each swallow you take. You follow him to the door and roll your eyes at his annoying smirk before he closes the door behind him, casting your apartment into silence.

Your fingers wobble as they turn the locks of your door into place. You’re lightheaded, brain flitting through salacious memories of what you both did weeks ago and what you could easily be doing now.

You throw your back against the door and sag to the floor with an annoyed sigh.

*** Toji ***

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

Toji: I’m interested. Send me what you have.

[jedi-luca]

Your Omega

Natasha!Omega Romanoff x Alpha!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk Reader has a penis; no pronouns used.

Summary: Omega!Natasha really needs her Alpha in the middle of the night.

Requested by anon/🦥

Natasha awoke from her slumber in the middle of the night. She sighed, feeling her pups kicking once again.

“Shh.” She quietly whispered, rubbing her hand over her protruding belly. This was the 3rd night in a row they have woken her up with their kicking. She wanted to whine in frustration, but she knew if she did she'd wake you. She wanted you to rest. You only just came back from a mission and you were so exhausted you didn’t even make love to her like you normally do. Instead you ate a late dinner and cuddled her to sleep.

She laid still staring at the bedside clock for a moment until she realized she wasn’t getting any sleep tonight. It was in that moment where she remembered something. You sleep in boxers only and she only has a negligee on. She softly pushed her negligee up and reached behind her.

Natasha bit her lip as she groped you pulling your soft member out. She wiggled her ass against you sighing when your cock was slid beneath her wet folds. She rocked her now dripping pussy along your soft cock hoping to make you hard soon.

“Hmm Natasha.” You mumbled in your sleep.

“What is it, my Alpha?”

She felt your hold tighten as you inhaled her scent.

“Need you Omega.” You groaned in your sleep moving your hips. Letting your now hardened cock slide through her sticky slick folds.

“Take me Alpha.” She moaned feeling your hands wander. It made her impossibly horny to know you even dream about fucking her.

She moved her hand gripping her pillow as she kept wiggling her ass. She wants you to slip inside of her. She wanted to be knotted so badly that she let out a whine.

Your senses flicked on like a switch. You could feel her urges and frustrations. You smirked eyes still shut you were still so tired from the day before. You felt her finally get your tip inside of her. She whined her pussy was just so wet and puffy you kept popping out. She was getting fussy so you showed some mercy by lifting her leg slipping deep inside of her.

“Oh daddy, my Alpha, you feel so good. I missed you so much I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“I missed you too, my Omega. So much” Your voice is crackly from sleep and your hands are a bit calloused from the mission but all of it is taking Natasha where she wants to be.

“Don’t ever leave me again.” Your wife moaned loudly bringing your hand on her belly and the other you slipped beneath her bringing her closer so you could massage her heavy tits.

“Daddy’s not going anywhere.” You grunt going a little harder and faster.

“Oh alpha yes! Yesss! Yes! I’m gonna come so hard. Knot me Alpha.”

You kiss her feeling your cock inflate. You move from her lips letting your teeth seep into her mark.

Natasha gasped seeing stars and fireworks as she came undone feeling your knot.

You lapped at her mark before bringing her in a lazy kiss. “I love you Natasha.”

“I love you Y/N.”

“Hmm.” You both inhale one another feeling relaxed and sleepy.

“Sleep Alpha so you can wake up and knot me again.” She smirked when you slapped her ass.

“Who says I can’t right now? Besides, it seems I have a lot of making up to do. I have to take care of my Omega. Hmm carrying daddy’s pups.” You smirked pulling her back in a kiss once more. She moaned, feeling you inflate even more as you began moving your hips.

Yeah screw sleeping you’re going to make up these past few days to the mother of your pups. If it’s the last thing you do.

[808airsoftbros]

Yujin's Wake Up Call

Author: This is a simple short story nothing too special and something that came to my mind that I want to write. If you want to see more of my stories check out my Masterlist.

Author's POV

It was another busy day at Starship, the IVE girls recently returned from their world tour and they were indeed exhausted after travelling the world for the past several months.

Yujin especially was tired along with the girls but she was disheartened when she heard that they would be visiting a patient with cancer as part of the wish foundation.

"Can you girls go for me? I'm too tired," Yujin asked and Gaeul rolled her eyes.

"Are you serious, Yujin? I get that you're tired from travelling the world but our manager says will be getting a whole month break afterward and we can do whatever we want from there," Gaeul pointed out and Yujin groaned.

"Yeah, and also our fans mean alot to us, and what about you?" Rei asked and Yujin scoffed.

"What are you on about? I'm only being nice because I have to and I hate that I have to be fake!" Yujin complained and Gaeul shook her head in disappointment.

Sadly, Yujin can be lazy at times, she'd be often caught slacking in dance practices when off camera, and you can bet every dollar that she tried every excuse you could think of to get out of her work.

This would annoy her members especially Gaeul and they'd always be fighting and arguing with one another.

"Yujin, do not start this shit again... We've been over this how many God damn times already?! When are you ever going to change?!" Gaeul angrily asked and Yujin rolled her eyes.

"When management doesn't constantly make us work to death," She answered spitefully.

"Well, if you do not behave, Ms. An Yujin, you will be one sorry woman, do you hear me?" Gaeul coldly warned but Yujin shrugged it off.

Because of how she always tends to act, the crew and management, and even her own members don't like nor respect her, but she doesn't seem to care.

Yujin also tends to have bad habits of drinking and smoking too much and Gaeul always catches her vaping when she's not supposed to.

Wonyoung and Yujin's friendship began deteriorating as she was fed up with her antics and was disheartened to see her friend changing for the worse.

One quiet night, Yujin snuck out of the dorm without waking up the girls and sat on a bench to smoke and drink.

It was quite foggy and there were hardly any noises to be heard besides the slight sounds of the breeze which was perfect for her.

"Perfect. No one to bother me," Yujin muttered as she takes a sip of soju.

"Excuse me," She heard a feminine voice asked and she turned to see a unfamiliar woman.

Yujin jumped in surprise as she didn't notice the woman approaching her.

"W-what do you want?" She nervously asked.

"Oh, sorry for startling you, it's quite a foggy night is it?" She kindly asked.

"I guess you can say that..." Yujin muttered to her and took a puff from her pod.

"Shouldn't idols be limiting how much they drink and smoke?" The woman asked as she sat down next to her.

"Why is it your business?" She snarled and the woman frowned.

Seeing Yujin's attitude, the woman just stared at her intently and then gave her a cold demeanor.

"I'll tell you why you're here... It's because you're lazy, useless, and a pathetic excuse of an idol," The woman coldly said and Yujin was taken aback.

"Who the fuck are you to judge me?! I can't help but get overwhelmed sometimes! Maybe if you were an idol then you'd understand!" Yujin retorts and the woman shook her head.

"Tsk. Overwhelmed? Only because you just have to visit a special patient? Is that your only excuse? As someone who has a chronic heart condition, you disgust me," The woman angrily replied and Yujin was now lost for words trying to come up with the words.

"I-" She was about to say but was cut off.

"Shut it! Did you know I was once an idol like you? I couldn't practice or sing on some days but I still give it my all! Unlike you, who has a management who at least cares for you and would get you the help you need... My management never cared for me, if they don't see me as efficient... Poof, they will simply get rid of me like I'm sort of a piece of garbage meant to be disposed of," The woman explained her story and Yujin gulped in fear.

"Every day I have to work through excruciating pain! The only person who ever cared for me was the custodian who works here, and I have to keep working no matter what just to survive, and here I see a spoiled rotten you always coming up with excuses just to get out of work! You leave me speechless... Do you have any idea how lucky you are?" The woman coldly asked with a tear shedding from her eye and Yujin tried to shrug off the feeling of guilt but no matter how hard she tried... It lingered inside of her but she refused to show it.

"There are many other idols left forgotten in the winds of time and talents wasted, they would give anything to be in your position yet you couldn't care less... It's pitiful," She finished and Yujin was boiling deep inside.

"And who the hell are you?!" Yujin asked her and the woman grinned.

"Consider me your wake up call, An Yujin, I hope one day you realize the error of your ways... Goodnight," The woman bid goodbye and got up from the bench.

Yujin watched as the mysterious woman walked into the fog and vanished out of sight.

After that, Yujin was left angry and confused, she wondered who the woman was as she had never met or heard of her. She quickly concludes her drinking and smoking session and goes back inside the building.

When she got into the corridor she finds the janitor Jake sweep mopping the floor.

"Hey, Jake!" Yujin called out and he paused.

"Yes?" Jake replied and Yujin sighs.

"Do you happen to know a woman who was an idol here? She claims to have a heart condition but... I don't know she's making it up or not to trick me into making me feel bad," She asked and Jake frowned before looking down.

Jake goes into his pocket pulling out a picture of the very same woman that Yujin encountered earlier and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Is this the woman you're referring to?" Jake asked as he showed the photo.

"Y-yes, that's her alright, who is she?" She curiously asked and he deeply sighed.

"Her name is Jennifer Jung, she was once a trainee here, she was also the sister of Jessica and Krystal Jung, but she had a severe and chronic heart condition... I tried my best to help her when management wasn't looking but it wasn't enough, she perished five months into her training," He explained the story and sighed once more.

Yujin froze in terror and shivers were sent down her spine as she could hardly believe that she was talking to the spirit of Jennifer this whole time.

She didn't know what to make of it but Jake didn't see her as a crazy person and he already figured she saw Jennifer. Yujin returns to her dorm and Jake continues his janitorial duties.

After that night, Yujin was a changed woman much to everyone's surprise, she eventually quit smoking and stopped drinking as much, although she mostly kept to herself, she stopped complaining and followed their schedules.

Yujin and the girls visited the hospital patient without issues or trouble much to management's delight and they were happy they were able to deliver someone's last dying wish.

Sometimes Yujin felt the urge to return to her old habits but refused and kept going no matter what. Yujin would never forget that encounter that night.

She never saw Jennifer again but on some foggy nights, she felt her presence was near but never again would she take anything for granted.