#and just kept not getting around to posting it whoops

[cuttlebirb]

Shadow the Hedgehog! I was so happy with all the Radical Highway in Sonic x Shadow Generations lol

[guess-i-do-art]

Woopdeedoo time for another AU ‼️

This one I call my WoF Controlled AU. It’s one of my FAVORITES

Remember at the end of Talons of Power when Darkstalker and both Anemone and Stonemover under his control for a second? When I read that scene alarms started going off in my brain and I was like holy shit this has potential

The simplified version of this is that Turtle was able to escape Darkstalker, who decided to thicken the spell he had on Anemone and Stonemover, turning them into his puppets. During the battle of Jade Mountain, he has them use their magic to fight against the IceWings. They have zero control over themselves and do whatever Darkstalker wills them to

The funniest bit is that Darkstalker decides what the two of them do with their powers, so Stonemover uses rocks and basically the entire ass mountain as his weapons because why not

Also he can control lava 😈

Bonus:

Turtle: *enchants a large boulder to attack Stonemover*

Moon: Turtle, no! Drop it! We don’t throw boulders at Sunny’s father!

Stonemover: *uses magic to hurl a boulder at them*

Turtle: OH BUT HE GETS TO THROW BOULDERS AT US-

[barleyo]

Mama-in-Training.

Enji Todoroki X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: life has been whooping my ass, sorry for my inactivity!! i'm trying to post more often, so i might start queuing up some fics to keep posts kinda consistent :3 anyways, for today, i offer you a humble enji fic

Tags: age gap (early 20s — 50s), breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, use of "mommy" and "daddy", size kink/difference

Wordcount: 2.4k

After his divorce, it took Enji a few years to get back into dating. By the time he found you, all of his kids were well into adulthood and moved out. That was fine with you, it would have probably been awkward to play step-mom to his kids who were the same age as you. 

However, that didn't mean that you didn't want children of your own. You never really brought it up with your now husband, seeing as he already had a bunch of them. You assumed he didn't want any more, that he was tired. That's the thing about age gaps— you're always in a different stage in life from your partner. It's hard to keep up. 

You sat with him in the dining room, quietly eating breakfast together. He was shuffling through a newspaper, his stoic face in tact. 

Well, no time like the present. You decided to bring it up.

You took a sip from your tea cup before placing it down gently on the table. You folded your hands on your lap and leaned forward a bit, trying to get his attention. 

"Enji."

"Hm?" Enji hummed absentmindedly in response, not taking his eyes off the newspaper for a few more seconds. He reached over and grabbed his own cup to take a sip, his eyes skimming across something in the paper before finally putting it down and looking at you. 

"What is it?" he asked, voice gruff and tired. 

"I want a child." You kept your eyes trained on his face, watching as his expression changed. 

His face slowly shifted from confusion to slight distaste. He wasn't expecting that, not exactly. 

He sat up a little straighter and looked at you intently. He wanted to make sure he heard you correctly. "A child? Really?"

"Yes, and I want one soon," you said, picking your teacup up again. You pressed it to your lips, speaking quickly again before drinking. "I'd like more than one, you know."

That last part was news to him. He was already surprised to hear that you wanted one, but two? More? 

He let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over the other. 

"Why?" He asked bluntly. 

Enji didn't want to say no right away, but his children were already adults. He didn't realize you wanted kids of your own. He always assumed you wanted a simple, quiet life with no little brats to deal with.

"You're getting older, you know," you said, voice teetering on teasing. "Don't you think we should strike while the iron is hot? Before you're too old?"

"Who are you calling old, woman?" He rolled his paper and shook it at you, pointing it at you with a small scowl. "I'm in better shape than most men decades younger than me, don't act like I'm on the verge of death."

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, leaning back in your chair with a smug, little grin.

You were trying to rile him up, and it was working. Enji was not a man who held up well to your incessant teasing. It was rather easy to get a rise out of him— a fact that you often exploited. 

"You aren't exactly in your prime anymore, are you?"

Damn you, he thought. He stood up, hands splayed on the table, eyes narrowed. 

"Who's not in their prime? I'm doing just fine. I'm not even that old, you know that," Enji said in an overly defensive way. It was adorable, watching him get so worked up over a little prodding. 

"Then chasing around some kids should be a breeze for you," you retorted sharply, raising an eyebrow in a challenging way. "C'mon, don't you miss having kids in the house? It'll be fun!"

He let out another, more exasperated sigh. Your persistence was a trait he had become accustomed to. Whenever you wanted something from him, you didn't stop until you got it. It was cute, but god, he hated how weak he was for you.

Enji was quiet for a few moments, staring at you as he considered it. He knew that if he kept arguing, this conversation would go on forever. "Fine," he finally relented. "We can start trying."

You clapped a few times in celebration, childishly whooping and cheering over your little victory. 

"I knew you'd agree!" You paused and looked over him, a mischievous smile forming. "So, theoretically, we could start right now?"

Enji raised an eyebrow at you as that little grin appeared. He knew that look. "Now?" he repeated, an almost imperceptible smirk of his own began to form. "Right this second?"

You nodded and he scoffed, patting his thigh, thick with muscle and strength. 

"Come here, you eager thing."

You did so gleefully, footsteps speedy as you went to sit on his lap, legs hanging over his thighs as you face him head on. You wrapped your arms around his neck. 

He watched as you practically rushed over to him, settling comfortably in his lap. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him. He leaned forward, lips ghosting against yours before he spoke.

"You really do want a kid, huh?" he asked, smirk fading ever so slightly as reality sunk in.

Enji was battling with himself mentally. He wanted to make you happy. His personal motto had become "anything for you, dear," but did he really want to start over with another plight of snot-nosed kids? He hated to face his own age, but he was getting up there. Could he—?

He thoughts were interrupted by you answering his question, a soft, needy look on your face. 

"I do. I really do, Enji. Don't you think I'll make a good mommy?" You braced your hands against his chest, eyes wide with excitement. "I think I'd look good pregnant too, with a cute lil' bump, eh?"

Fuck. Fuck, he really liked that image. Any doubt that was lingering was replaced with you. Full and pregnant. Tits swollen and heavy, face glowing. 

A shudder rolled down his body and a low rumble escaped his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he was this turned on. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, nearly pulling you against him completely. He began placing slow, purposeful kisses all over your neck and jawline.

"Yeah?"

He couldn't form any words outside of that, his head foggy with only his desire to fill you up present. The grip he had on you was a little harsher than usual, fingers digging into the fat of your ass through your pants. 

You pressed your lips against his roughly, hands carding through his hair. 

"I want you to fuck..."

You spoke only when you pulled away for gasps of air, sentences coming out breathless and choppy. 

"...all of your cum into me. Want it all, gotta make sure it takes."

He shivered again, your dirty talk getting to him more than he'd like to admit. He let out a low growl as your hands moved through his hair, his grip on you only getting tighter. 

He bit down on your lip, pulling you back into another rough kiss. His hands continued to move over your thighs, slowly going further and further up until he was palming your cunt through the layers of fabric covering you. 

"Such a dirty mouth," he muttered against your lips. "You really want it, huh? I'll give it to you. I'll fill you up, baby. Whatever you want."

His hands began to slide over your body, caressing your skin gently. His touch continued to linger over you, slowly making its way down lower to where you wanted it most. His fingers began to rub and tease at your core through your underwear, his hand messily shoved down your pants. His tongue licked roughly at the sensitive flesh of your neck. He made a point to leave marks, wanting others to be able to see that you belonged to him. 

Soon enough, your full belly would be a mark of his upon you. Hickies would suffice for now, though.

"You're all mine," he said gruffly, his tone possessive as ever. "I'm gonna give you everything you want, baby. Give you everything you need."

Normally, you enjoyed the chase, the teasing. Making out and heavy petting was all a part of the fun, on most days. But not now. Not when you knew exactly what you wanted— and what did you want now? 

Non-stop loads. 

You shimmied on his lap, kicking your pants off impatiently and staring up at him. 

"I want you, and I want you now," you said, trying to sound authoritative only to come off as needy and whiny. "Stop playing around, Enji

He chuckled at your attempt to sound like you were in charge, his lips curling up into that smug, confident smirk. 

"Bossy today, aren't we?" His other hand coming up to rest on your waist. His grip was still as harsh as before. "So eager to be knocked up, you've forgotten how to ask nicely."

You groan exasperatedly, resting your head against his chest. "Daddy, please. Don't tease."

"Oh, fuck." He inhaled sharply, fingers rubbing small circles on your hipbones. "You know I love when you talk like that."

That one word was all it took. 

You were always able to push the right buttons, to get him to do what you wanted. He pushed your head back, hand cupping your cheek, wanting to see your face.

"That's better," he said, his voice low and rough, almost a whisper. "Begging like that, baby." 

Before you could respond, Enji had slung you over his shoulder, dragging you off to the bedroom. 

He slowly repositioned himself until he was settled between your legs, his broad chest pressed to yours. He looked down at you, taking in just how needy you were. He knew you wanted this just as much as he did, if not more, and he was going to make sure he gave you what you needed. 

His mouth was back on your neck, more marks being left on your skin. He spoke between sucks and bites, the words muffled.  "You're still so eager, baby. All for me."

What round was it now? Three? Four? You couldn't tell. Your legs were cramping from being pushed to your chest for so long. Your greedy little hole was full of cum, dripping onto the silky sheets beneath you. Your mind— a mushy mess. 

You felt Enji push his cock back into you, rubbing the head over the leaking mixture of slick and seed that was drooling out of your slit. 

You winced a bit at the stretch. No amount of prep could ease the burning stretch of his girth. Your walls were snuggly closed around him. 

It was always like this, he was huge, after all. A brief look at his sturdily built, tall figure would give anyone ideas. Obviously, a giant man like him had the cock to match. Every time felt like the first time with him, with the sharp pinch of him sliding in, but God, it was worth it. 

He always felt a sense of pride when he took you like this. He was the only one who could make you feel like this, and he knew it. The only one who was allowed to satisfy the need inside you. His ego only grew the further he sunk in, watching your body swallow all of him yet again. 

"Jus' one more, baby. Okay? Think you can take one more?"

His large body caged you under him, trapping you completely, strong hands keeping your legs firmly folded. 

When you didn't answer, he huffed and brought his calloused thumb over your clit. He rubbed rough circles over the nub. 

"You're such a sensitive thing," he mumbled, collecting some of the slick that dripped down the seam of your thighs, right next to your cunt. He smeared the wetness over your clit, smoothing his movements. "So little, too."

"S—shut up," you managed to spit, mouth hanging open as you felt him ram sharply against your cervix, kissing the tip of it with his cock head. 

"But it's true."

Meaner than a snake, Enji was. The way he pushed one of his hands down on your lower stomach made you see stars. Every stroke felt deeper than the last— harder. More targeted. He was focused on hitting your deep, spongy weak spot with each of his thrusts. 

"How are you going to handle carrying my child, huh? Tiny thing like you. My cock already spilts you in half, the hell are you gonna do with a child of mine?" He was looking down at you, stoic expression tinged with a hint of amusement. "You'll break right in half, baby. Y'aren't strong enough for it."

You huffed, a soft moan slipping through your mouth as he continued to fuck into your tight chasm like a crazed man, little regard for how rough he was being with you.

"I dunno," you mumbled, bottom lip bit tight enough to almost draw blood, "but I know I can handle it. Was made to be yours, daddy. I can take it. I gotta."

His grip on your thighs grew more intense, his hands digging into the soft, pillowy skin. He liked when you said that. He liked that you needed him, that you needed to mother his children.

Enji's teeth tugged at your neck rougher than before, his tongue licking the assaulted skin soothingly. It was a dance of sorts— sharp teeth marking you, marking you bruise and bleed, with a gentle tongue to clean you up right after. 

"You really do want it, huh? You need it so bad," he said between rough kisses. "Well then, let's hope it takes."

With that, he braced one hand beside your head, tightly gripping a pillow, and the other leaving bruises on your thigh. He came for the final time, adding to the sopping, sloppy mess that previous rounds left in your hole. 

"Ah, fuck. There you go, mama," he groaned, voice tight with satisfaction as he spoke the nickname. "Now, all there is to do is wait."

He kept his cock sheathed inside of you, plugging his cum up in your walls.

"...Unless you think another turn is needed. Fifth time's a charm, isn't it?"

[whisperofaflame]

I have a fic idea-I don’t know how to write it but i just wanted to get it out and I’d like to hear your thoughts- so anyway R has flashbacks sometimes because of trauma and her name she uses is a nick name but her legal name brings back lots of trauma-she never told Wanda and nat because she didn’t think anything about it would come up but then the three get in a argument and one of them ends up in one of them yelling at R with there legal name-a panic trauma response ensuing angst and then some hurt comfort and then them helping R change there name to get it out of Rs life as much as they can.

Oh my god, this unleashed something within me and I just spent the last hour hammering out my interpretation of this prompt -- I really love it! It's not proofread but I'm gonna post now because it's 00:30 and I still need to get ready for bed whoops... ♡

(Also I really hope this is okay, I am slightly worried that I misinterpreted you and you just wanted my approval to write it yourself?)

By Any Other Name

Content Warning: implied past experiences of abuse

---------⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅---------

When you first met Wanda and Natasha, you had introduced yourself with your nickname, and that’s all they had ever used to address you in the months since. They needed nothing else, nothing more — they had a catalogue of cutesy pet names to employ, after all. But you knew they were aware of your full name, though they had never spoken it. They’d no doubt noticed it, on the letters from the bank which they passed blithely to you after sorting through the post. It had never been discussed, not even in a teasing way. So you just assumed they’d pieced it together themselves, and it never occurred to you to explain, to be explicit about your feelings towards that haunted moniker. Until it came back to bite you.

It was a silly argument, really. You had broken the rules, failed to update them of your whereabouts and gone AWOL on a Friday evening. They had every right to be angry, and you ought to have bowed your head and offered apologies. But you were feeling emboldened by the alcohol, and a little frustrated by the events of the evening (your friend had ditched you for some guy, leaving you alone at the party searching for her for at least an hour, before someone finally informed you that she had gone). You were pissed off at her, and taking it out on your dommes. Petulant, pathetic. But you didn’t have the clarity of mind to realise it. So you just kept on pushing…

---------⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅---------

“You had us worried sick!” Wanda tells you, her concerned frown causing a pang of guilt in your chest, an ache you didn’t anticipate, and haven’t prepared for. So you bat it away, and purse your lips in an obstinate display of indifference.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Natasha interrogates you, clearly riled by your lack of remorse.

“It’s a Friday night! I have every right to go out!”

“Honey, you know the rules…” Wanda begins, but Natasha cuts her off.

“Don’t baby her, detka, she’s being a brat.”

“Oh… fuck off,” you reply, crossing your arms initially through defiance, and then increasingly as a means to protect yourself from the flash of fury in Natasha’s eyes.

“What did you say to me?”

Your heart is almost pounding out of your chest, knowing you’ve pushed it too far, stepped well past the line of brattiness and into dangerous disrespect. But your drunken ego decides to double down. And you turn away, arms still crossed around your chest, your head slightly tilted up as you look to the corner of the room, away from their piercing, disapproving looks.

And then Natasha says it, growls it out like a dog. Your full name, the extra syllables emerging from her lips like something inedible she is forced to spit out. She continues speaking, finishing her sentence with some chastisement you can’t hear. Because all that reverberates in your head is another voice, shouting your name with unbridled fury. The sound is like a whip that cracks through your body. It splits everything in its wake, leaving only stinging, screaming pain. You can’t think, but you don’t need to. Your body responds, because your body remembers…

You stumble back, your legs recalling the need to retreat. 

Flight? 

Your hands raise, hovering in a loose stack at chest height, ready to form a fist should you need. 

Fight? 

But when a body advances towards you, you are struck with their height, and overwhelmed by their physical supremacy. Your fingers quiver as you lift them higher, splayed out in anticipation, ready to shield your cheeks. 

Flinch? 

Your back meets the wall, and the first option you clung to is suddenly no longer available; there is no chance to flee when two bodies are between you and the door. And they both approach even closer, their arms outstretched, rendering your other two options futile in such close proximity. 

So you just surrender to the last available instinct. You slide down the wall, and curl up in a ball. 

Freeze.

How long has it been? Were you lost? Were you dreaming? You continue to feel an intermittent tug in your stomach, your muscles clenching as they anticipate a blow. But nothing ever comes. No pain accompanies the images flashing through your mind. There is only silence. Only space.

“Y/N?”

A soft voice breaks through. It doesn’t belong here. Not that tone, not that name. It doesn’t match the memories replaying in your mind.

“Honey, we’re here. You’re okay.”

It sounds so foreign, so unbelievable. The strangeness of the words, of the sweetness, begins to disrupt the cacophony of fear. The images begin to blur, and the edges of your body seem to come back into focus. You can feel where the space ends, and your body begins. Even in the darkness of your tightly-shut eyelids, you can feel that you are back. Back home. Not the old one, with the old name. But the new one. With them. 

“I’m just here. I’m right by you. Wanda is too. We’re here, when you’re ready.”

You can hear how close she is now; you can almost feel her presence in the air. She doesn’t sound angry anymore, but you’ve been tricked before by others. Lured out of safe spaces, just to be met with the wrath anew. 

You clutch your knees a little tighter, trying to grip on to this reality, and avoid being swept away again. The alcohol even feels like waves, lapping at your skin from within, uprooting your sense of balance and stability as the world continues to sway. 

You open your eyes, hoping to gaze upon something stationary, to find something to anchor yourself to. When you do, the first thing you see is Natasha, kneeling before you with her hands resting on her thighs. Wanda sits cross-legged beside her, tears brimming in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispers, her voice wavering with regret. “I shouldn’t have said it. I should have known.”

You wish you could reassure her, but your mouth is so dry and there’s still a lump in your throat, like a physical lid you have somehow evolved over the years when backchat was a threat, and the stopper could save you. 

“I promise you, I will never say it again. Ever,” Natasha pledges, and she looks so serious and sad that you don’t think you could ever doubt it. 

Wanda’s tears break through, and begin to stream down her cheeks. Natasha doesn’t break her gaze from you, but her hand reaches out for her wife, and Wanda takes hold of it, accepting the small comfort while you remain unavailable for touch, for reassurance of their love for you, and yours for them. Your skin prickles, and you’re not sure if it’s from the lingering fear, or the burgeoning need. 

“Just nod when you’re ready,” Wanda suggests, wiping her tears with her free hand and giving you a wobbly smile of encouragement. We can take it slow. But I’d really love to hold you, when you’re ready.”

You try to steady your breaths, each one an effort to fully release before drawing more in. When the ache begins to ease, you give the tiniest nod of your head. 

Wanda lets go of Natasha’s hand, and opens both arms to you, scooting forwards a little on the floor, closing the gap. Your head spins a little as you lean it down to rest on her shoulder. But Wanda holds you steady, her arms enveloping you and her fingers gently stroking your spine and the hair on the back of your head.

“Shhhh…” she whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Her loving arms and tender tone break down your thorny defences, and your body begins to shake with suppressed sobs, now released in the safety of her hold. She lets you cry it out, murmuring sweet nothings, all the while stroking you and keeping your close. Natasha remains nearby. Silent but steady. Waiting for when you are ready to accept her back in. 

When you begin to wipe your eyes, Wanda knows she can release you without letting you drift away. Your eyes find Natasha’s once your head lifts from Wanda’s shoulder. And you find her eyebrows knitted with concern as she studies you, clearly trying to gauge your feelings towards her. 

“Natty?” you whisper, the first word that emerges despite her being the one who pulled the trigger. The simple call of her name tells her everything she needs to know. You forgive her, and you need her forgiveness too.

“Come here, baby,” she says gently, though she doesn’t make you move of your own accord. Instead, she pulls you to her, and hums a mixture of approval and relief when you begin to wrap your arms and legs around her, settling your full weight in her lap.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispers in your ear. “Can you forgive me, milaya?”

“Mm-hm,” you murmur, from your position tucked tightly in her arms. Words are hard right now, but you try. “Forgive me?”

“Of course I do,” she assures you. “You made a mistake, but it’s okay, my love. We can talk about it tomorrow. Tonight is just for cuddles, and feeling better.”

You nod against her, your cheek brushing against the skin of Natasha’s sternum. 

“Tomorrow we’re going to sort it, honey,” Wanda says, her voice gentle but decisive. “We can get it changed properly; we can figure it out together.”

Natasha hums her agreement, and you feel your breathing slow as you process Wanda’s words. Natasha brushes back your hair, and when you glance up at her you see that she’s looking down at you with such solemnity and love.

“We’ll make sure the only name you ever need to see or hear again is your own, okay?” She tells you, echoing Wanda’s sentiment that they’ll help you heal this wound.

Your fingers find her hand, and you give it a gentle squeeze. Your name is your own. But you? You are theirs.

[togament]

⤷ ume, sakura, nirei, kiryu, kaji, togame, suo, endo.

"he wants to make you smile so he left you a little note. What'd he write and where'd he hide it? I got you."

⤷ 𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF!!!!, g/n reader, suo's kinda scares me ngl, I feel guilty for togame pls be patient with him He Is Trying, ENDO IS SCARY, nirei is very sweet oh MY GOD, all the fluff all the fluffies!!!!!!!

♯ 𝐔𝐌𝐄

"You found it! ◡̈ I just wanted to drop a little sunshine for my sunshine while I go get some sunshine ☼ You're my favorite person in the world and I hope this note makes your heart do a little happy dance like mine does whenever I see you. If you find this (and you did!! Yay!) it means you're awesome and that I'm so lucky to have you in my life. I love you!!!!! Your Number One Fan, 🍑"

Little doodles and happy scribbles!!!! You can tell he was smiling so widely when he wrote everything out for you -- it's like you can feel his happiness radiating from his writing it's very infectious. He just loves you that much.

(hid it in your favorite mug for you to find in the morning when he's out tending to his garden.)

────

♯ 𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐈

"Hey, love. Just a quick note to remind you how much I appreciate everything you do. For me and the boys. Your support means the absolute world to me. Don't forget to take your vitamins today -- gotta take care of yourself too, alright? I love you. - T."

Thankful and doting!!!!!! Vaguely smells like him too so you know he kept the note right by his jacket pocket for a while before sneaking it into its rightful hiding spot. His handwriting is sharp and you know he wrote it quick. He probably wrote it while on patrol.

(hid it inside your vitamin case that you use daily so you find it easily.)

────

♯ 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀

"I'm not really good with this whole cutesy stuff, but I wanted to let you know I'm thinking about you. You make my days better (even if I don't say it right). Love you. Lots. - S. P.S. there's chocolate for you in the fridge :)"

Clumsy and cute, the note has little writing indents of past notes he's written and promptly thrown away. He settled for this one because you're stirring awake beside him and he doesn't wanna get caught lmao

(Has the note hidden in one of the books you're currently reading, right where your bookmark is.) ────

♯ 𝐍𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐈

"Whoops. You found me. Wanted to leave you a little surprise! I'm planning on something fun for us real soon, but until then (tonight!!) I hope this note makes you smile as much as you make me smile every day. You're the best! I can't wait to see you. - your bunny."

Bright and cheery, much like Nirei is. Of course he has something planned for the both of you by the end of the day and he's keeping it a secret... But you know him. Something's bound to slip from his lips when you meet up with him tonight. Promise to act surprised?

(He hides it inside your pencil box because he knows you use it on the daily.)

────

♯ 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐔

"Sweetheart! ♡ Surprise! I just wanted to leave a little reminder of how much I adore you. If you find this note, it means you didn't wait for me to play with you ( •̀ - •́ ) kidding! Can't wait to start our new game tonight. I love youuuu!! - forever your Player Two ♡"

Written on a purple and pink post-it, it's spritzed with his perfume. His penmanship is remarkable too. Playful and sweet!!!!! It makes you extremely giddy and excited to meet up with him later. You know for a fact he's got his space set and decked out in fairy lights for your game night. Gotta wait for a couple more hours though UGHHHSHAS

(has it neatly hidden inside the game case of the new game you both have been dying to play.)

────

♯ 𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈

"Before anything, don't get mushy on me. Just wanted to say you're pretty great and I'm glad you're around. Found this album at the shop. Remembered you saying you wanted to listen to them, so I guess that's my way of saying I care. Listen to it with me later. - Ren. ♡"

neatly written on a post-it note, you kinda think it could be printed out. It's crazy. Short and concise, you can tell he had his brows furrowed when he wrote this for you. He's trying!!!!!! He really is!!!! You know he'd bring some food for the both of you when you meet up. He's a romantic at heart.

(has it taped to the CD he bought for you right next to your player.)

────

♯ 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

"I'm probably late again, aren't I? Big surprise. I promise I'm working on it, but in the meantime, I thought I'd leave you a little reminder that you're amazing and that I promise I'll always be worth the wait. Thank you for being so patient with me, doll. I love you. A lot. Bringing your favorite dish tonight. Kame Special. -🐢"

HE'S TRYINGGG AAAASJKDKJASD!!!!!! As you read, you can practically hear the slight purr in his voice and he sounds so apologetic too. HE'S TRYING HE'S TRYINGGJAKJDS he loves his sleep a bit too much, you see. Pepper him in kisses when you meet him tonight. He deserves as much.

(Snuck it inside your planner the night before your date so you'd find it when you go check on your schedule for the day. He's not late for your home date later, by the way.)

────

♯ 𝐒𝐔𝐎

"My dove. Consider this a little hint: I've got a little something special planned for you, but you'll have to find more clues first and follow them. I promise you won't be disappointed. I'll be waiting for you tonight. Wear that dress that I love so much, yes? - Your Hayato."

uH OH. UH OH UH OH. Your man has you working for the surprise but that's such a him thing to do. At least he has something super cute planned by the end of it!!! If he says you won't be disappointed, he means it. HE MEANS IT.

(hid it inside the pocket of your coat that he knows you'll be using today. It's something you'd naturally reach into. Such a Suo thing to plan out.)

────

♯ 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎

"Hey there, gorgeous. I know you're in the middle of pretending not to miss me while reading up on this chapter. It's my favorite one, by the way. If you find this note, it means I'm missing you too and totally not hiding underneath your bed or in your closet ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ See you in a sec. - Only Your Yams."

Ominous and teasing, much like Endo is. You kind of wanna check under your bed and in your closet but you know your boyfriend's just out to grab some coffee for the both of you. His handwriting is legible and super neat and he spritzed some of his favorite perfume on the note too. Mmmmm. Sandalwood and smoky vanilla.

(hid it between the pages of your favorite book with your bookmark replaced with a new one he bought for you. One of those fancy ones that can mark the words and stuff. Has to match his.)

a/n: I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING I FUNALLYNJASDJKASD HUHUHUHUHUUASHKAS thank you for reading through this. I feel very rusty.

[sturnioloszn]

MARKED - C.S

summary; you get a new tattoo, and chris has to show you just how much he loves it...

warnings; smut, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap the willy), dirty talk, praise, cream pie, hair pulling.

a/n; sorry it took me literally foreverrrr to get a fic out, i did post one, but i actually hated it w every fibre in my being, so... it got cut. whoops. anywayyy, enjoy this one lmaooo.

I laid on my stomach, with my skin flush against the black leather of the tattoo table when the loud buzzing of the tattoo gun came to a sudden halt and broke me from my daydreams.

"Alright, you're done. I can't believe you did it with no breaks, you're insane," Sam, my tattooer spoke from behind me, gently cleaning and wiping the remaining ink off.

"It's wasn't too bad," I chuckled, peering over to Nick, who shoved his phone in his pocket and leaned over to get a clear look at the finished product.

After what felt like years, I finally sat up from the chair and kept my hands firmly on my shirt to make sure it wouldn't slip and I'd accidently flash a titty, since it was completely open in the back.

I stood up and walked over to the full sized mirror in the corner of the room and stared at my new decoration in awe. I loved it. It was perfect.

"Okay, so since this is a pretty big tattoo, I'll try wrap it as best as possible, but it'll probably start to peel in no time," Sam spoke, following me to the mirror with the wrapping.

Nick and I eventually pay and hop into an Uber to bring us back to his place. "Soo, do you like it?" Nick asks, turning to look at me.

"I don't like it, I LOVE it. He did an amazing job," I complimented, looking down at Nick's new addition to his tattoo collection too.

"I told you Sam is the best," He bragged.

The ride to the house wasn't long at all, but sure enough, the wrapping of my tattoo was already peeling and coming undone. I decided to peel it off completely and just try to deal with it, trying to not cause an infection.

I was so excited to show off my new tattoo that the second Nick unlocked the front door, I sprinted up the stairs into the living room where I found Matt sprawled comfortably on the couch, lazily scrolling on his phone.

"Hey kid, how was it?" He asks, momentarily looking up from his phone.

"It was amazing, wanna see?" I ask with a happy grin plastered on my face. Before even waiting for him to reply, I lifted the back of my shirt up and turned to show him my back.

"Holy shit, it's massive," he says. I crack an immature joke before gloating about the fact that I didn't take a break not once. At this point, Nick had joined Matt on the couch, and they began to discuss his new tattoo aswell but I'm overflowing with excitement to show Chris mine.

"Is Chris in his room?" I ask, receiving a small nod from Matt in reply. I skip my way downstairs to his bedroom and push the door open without even knocking.

I found Chris hunched in his gaming chair, eyes locked on the screen in front of him, with his headset over both ears. He must've not heard me and Nick come in. I sneakily crawled up behind him, placing my two hands on his shoulders.

He jumped out of his skin but instantly relaxed when he realised it was my touch. "Heyyy, you're back," He says, taking his headset off and standing up to place a delicate kiss on my lips and wrap his long arms around my torso.

"Wanna see it?" I ask, jumping out from his embrace. I can't help the smile from returning onto my face, feeling the dopamine course through my veins.

I once again turned to show him my tattoo before even earning his reply to my question. After a few moments of silence, I turn back around, worried about what expression I'd find on his face.

"Do you... like it?" I hesitatantly ask. However, his expression doesn't falter except that he's now looking into my eyes.

"Do I like it?" He repeats, taking slow but profound steps towards me, filling my surroundings entirely with his presence. "I fucking love it, it's so sexy," he whispers, now standing face to face with me.

He connects his palm to the side of my face and guides me closer to him, connecting our lips. Our kiss was passionate and meaningful until it wasn't. His lips roughly crashed into mine again, his tongue slipping in and out of my mouth with ease.

"Y'gonna let me fuck you and look at your new tattoo, hm?" He mutters, barely separating himself from me. I whine in return, letting him know that I need it more than he could imagine.

As he continues to bite and suck at my sore lips, his hands roam my body, slowly peeling off layers of my clothes. I'm eventually left in just my underwear, which he doesn't hesitate to discard, alongside the rest of my clothes.

"Ass up, face down, baby," he orders, quickly discarding his own clothes, littering them on the floor until we're equally as bare. I moved onto the centre on his bed, doing just what he asked; pressing my face into his mattress and arching my back so that my ass was in the air.

"You're so fucking hot," he groans, coming up behind me. I feel him grip my hips tightly before placing a few firm slaps on my ass, eleciting some yelps and moans from me.

Without warning, he slams his entire length into me, making me scream into the sheets. "Y'gotta be quiet baby, can't have Matt or Nick know how much you love my cock,"

My moans grow louder and louder as he ruthlessly rams me from behind, hitting that amazing spot that makes me feel like I'm in heaven.

"Sh-it, Chr-is, too mu-ch," I moan and whimper between his thrusts. His hands fall from my hips and move to my hair, gathering it together, forming a makeshift ponytail.

He yanks on my hair, pulling me up from the mattress, and sticks our two sweaty bodies together as he continues his solid pace.

"Fuck- you're so beautiful, love your new tattoo... looks so fuckin' good," he grunts. I feel my end drawing near, and with a few more harsh thrusts, I feel my orgasm crash over me. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and my pussy squeezes around his cock, begging for him to also finish. "..love how tight you are f'me, mh,"

He let's go of my hair, making me flop down back onto the mattress, and his hands find their way back to my hips, roughly grabbing them. He somehow snaps his hips even faster, making my second orgasm fast approaching. The headboard of the bed is banging against the wall, and there's no hiding what is happening anymore.

He snakes one of his hands around me, reaching over to my clit, rubbing it viciously. At this stage I've lost all self control and I release my fluids all over his cock for a second of time.

"Fuck! Just like that, come on my cock," He moans, filling me with his own release. His movements begin to slow, but he continues moving his hips, fucking his cum into me.

I feel him pull his limp cock out of me and stare at his work of art; our mixed fluids dripping out of my pussy and onto the sheets. The only sound heard now is our heavy breathing, which is desperately trying to return to normal.

-

After a few hours filled with cuddling and laughter, Chris and I decided to scavenge the kitchen for any food we could find, but as soon as we came up the stairs Matt and Nick stare at us from the couch.

"You could've just said you liked her new tattoo,we didn't all have to hear it," Matt grimaces, standing up and leaving, with Nick trailing his footsteps shortly after.

"Well... at least you know?" Chris jokes, turning to me. We break into laughter, and the rest of the night is filled with the same laughter and love.

a/n; this is definitely better than the last fic i posted lmaoo, also my requests r open so feel free to leave some ideas! hope u enjoyed this, love you all <33

Taglist; @idrk2292 @clairesrose @045696 @forgottxen @mattsturniolover @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut

[klovesmatt]

reader x fluff!matt

synopsis: Matt decides to prank you on April fools

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

It was the morning of April 1st, and I was already a little suspicious. Matt, as usual, was up to something — he had that glint in his eye, the one that always meant trouble.

We’d made plans for a relaxed Sunday morning, just the two of us lounging around, but Matt kept acting weird. He was way too calm and collected, like he knew something I didn’t. I couldn’t shake the feeling he was planning something, especially since it was April Fools’ Day. I tried not to let it get to me, but I knew better than to trust him on this particular day.

“Hey, babe,” I said, eyeing him cautiously as I grabbed my coffee. “You wouldn’t be trying to prank me today, would you?”

Matt gave me an innocent smile, the kind that looked like it came straight out of a movie. “What? No. Why would I prank you? I’m sweet and innocent. Plus, I know you hate being pranked.”

I raised an eyebrow, but his calm demeanor made me second-guess myself. Maybe I was being paranoid. After all, it was early, and my mind was still waking up.

But then, just as I was about to relax, he handed me a small, perfectly wrapped gift. “Here, I got you something. Just a little something to start the day right.”

My eyes widened, surprised. He wasn’t normally the gift-giving type, especially out of the blue. I took the box, curiosity piquing.

“You’re just full of surprises today, huh?” I joked

He shrugged nonchalantly, acting as though this was a completely normal gesture. I ripped open the gift, my heart fluttering at the thought of what might be inside.

Inside the box was a small, cute stuffed animal. It was adorable, but as I picked it up, I realized something odd. It was vibrating.

I held it up, giving Matt a confused look. He burst into laughter, pointing at the stuffed animal. “April Fools’! I put a vibrating motor inside it. Now, every time you pick it up, it’ll shake!”

I couldn’t help but laugh, even though I was a little caught off guard. “Are you serious? This is your prank?”

But then, I noticed something even stranger. The stuffed animal started vibrating even though I hadn’t touched it. It was moving on its own, and I swear I saw the little thing twitch its eyes.

Before I could even process it, Matt was laughing even harder, nearly on the floor. “Okay, okay, I admit it… it’s also a fake gift. There’s a tiny camera inside the toy. I’ve been recording your reactions this whole time!”

I groaned and laughed at the same time, realizing I’d just been pranked in the most bizarre, yet totally Matt way possible. “You’re the worst, you know that, right?”

Matt just gave me a goofy grin. “You love me. Admit it.”

I crossed my arms, trying not to smile, but it was hard. “I’ll get you back, Matt. Just you wait.”

As the day went on, I couldn’t help but think about how his pranks were always so unexpected, and honestly, kind of brilliant. April Fools’ Day had never been more fun.

⸻

posting this before April fools ends whoops

[zangtangimpersonator]

I realised Kling was incredibly capable of just introducing new people to join the scene and have them interact, so I thought well, let's be direct about this. And it was.

I signed up with my Google account because I'm lazy, and it turns out the only way to cancel the subscription is to give them your email, and if that email is attached to the Kling account [edit - no, it seems it needs to be attached to a Stripe account, whoops!], they send a customer portal from which you can unsubscribe. It appears that the emails do not arrive at the email associated with my Google account. Fortunately I hadn't waited til very close to the renewal, so I have some time to struggle against it - I have emailed Kling to cancel, and I can contact my bank to faff around with it if necessary, but really I should've kept the suspicion I had last year closer to my heart. You can't even switch tiers of subscription, and I used to assume it was just busted and incomplete but at this point it looks rather intentional. So definitely think twice before taking the suspiciously good introductory offers - they're not that good! -- I was going to get my bank to block further payments but then thought "you know what, I wouldn't object to another month, let's wait and see." What actually happened was Kling couldn't work out how I'd paid (because my bank details hadn't been saved by Stripe) and froze my account for a couple of days. It's unfrozen now and I was not charged. But youtube comments and reddit posts suggest that some people were charged or blocked.

[theballadofharkness]

Whisky and Wine: Part 2

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Claire Debella x fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected when you came home from your publishers to your older partner Claire’s home was an invitation to her friend’s, Billionaire Miles Bron, private luxury yacht for the weekend. The problem? Claire had been very careful to keep her fellow disrupters away from you, terrified they would ruin yet another aspect of her life. But nobody says no to Miles, so you find yourself surrounded by Claire’s ‘inner circle’.

Word Count: 10.7K

Warnings: slight smut warning so as always MDNI

A/N: so this is very quickly becoming a series I’m on around 4 parts now…. Whoops? If anyone would like to be added to a tag list for this please comment on this post xo🪻💜

By the time Claire had done with you your legs felt like jelly.

You laid there for a while after, stretched out against the cool sheets, skin still flushed and sensitive as Claire ran her hands over your body like she owned it. And she did, at least in moments like this- where it was just you and her, no one else, no outside noise.

But reality hit quickly as soon as you heard the second overhead announcement for brunch. With them. Your stomach twisted at the thought. You had no idea what to expect after last night’s disaster.

"You’re nervous," Claire murmured, tracing her fingers down your arm.

You exhaled slowly. "Yeah."

Claire pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "It’ll be fine."

You didn’t answer, just rolled onto your side, forcing yourself to get up. You had no choice but to face them.

~

The black bikini was dangerous.

You knew it. Claire knew it. But that didn’t stop you from wearing it anyway, pairing it with a sheer black cover-up that barely covered anything, sunglasses perched on your nose, your lips still kiss-swollen from Claire’s very thorough apology.

Claire was practically drooling. She didn’t even try to hide it, either- her eyes raking over your body shamelessly, fingers trailing along your waist as the two of you made your way to the outdoor dining area where everyone was gathered.

"You’re killing me, baby," she murmured low in your ear.

You smirked. "Good."

The second you stepped onto the deck, all conversation seemed to pause- just for a second, just enough to make you feel it.

“Hey! There you are!" Before you even had a chance to react, Whisky was on you, throwing her arms around you, her long hair smelling like coconuts and salt water.

"You survived," she smiled, squeezing you tight. "Come on, let’s get some food before Duke eats everything."

Claire barely had time to react before Whisky was dragging you toward the buffet table, her toned arm looped through yours, her body pressed against your side. The jealousy that flared in Claire’s chest was immediate, burning, but before she could do anything about it-

"Claire!" Birdie’s loud, excited voice cut through the moment as she and Duke appeared, effectively cornering Claire before she could storm after you.

"Good morning future senator!" Birdie beamed, sipping something that was definitely not coffee. "Last night was crazy, huh?"

Duke let out a gruff laugh. "Shit was wild."

Claire forced a strained smile, her eyes darting toward you across the deck. "Yeah, totally."

She barely heard whatever Birdie was rambling about. Because across the deck, Whisky was leaning in too close, laughing at something you said, her hand lingering on your arm. She should be paying attention to Lionel talking about developments at work but instead, she was watching you, across the deck, sipping something out of a tall glass while Whisky kept talking to you, her body angled toward yours in a way that made Claire’s jaw tighten.

"You’re staring." Lionel’s voice snapped her out of it. Claire turned her head sharply, only to find him raising an eyebrow at her over his coffee.

She rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to look away from you. "No, I’m not."

Lionel hummed with a knowing smile, unconvinced, but said nothing else. Birdie, oblivious as ever, was positioning herself on a sun lounger as if she was shooting for a magazine. “Peg can you get me another one of these please?” She handed her empty drink to her bone tired assistant.

"So what do we think this trip is about?" Claire looked around at her oldest friends.

"I don’t know but I wouldn’t get too comfortable," Lionel muttered.

"Well I already sold my soul, so bring it on," Duke added through a mouthful of bacon.

Birdie scoffed. "Ugh, you guys are so cynical." She took a sip of Claire’s drink, "I mean, sure, last time he did tell us we had to cut Andi off, but like, that was different. It was a really bad time for us all. And he was just, you know, protect himself."

Claire shot her a look. "Jesus, Bird."

Birdie frowned. "What?"

"He wanted us to pick a side- his side.” Claire sighed “He wanted to make sure we knew who was in charge now.”

Lionel nodded, rubbing his temple. "And we let him."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Because they had let him.

They’d all been sitting in that same goddamn living room the night Miles told them so casually that Andi was out, that he had social network-ed her and if they wanted to keep their connections, their financial backing, their entire lives, they’d need to fall in line.

And they had.

Claire exhaled sharply, taking a sip of her kombucha despite the early hour. "So the question is- what’s he trying to pull this time?"

Lionel ran a hand down his face. "Nothing good."

"Ooh, maybe he’s finally gonna branch out into social media and wants us to promote it!" Birdie clapped her hands together. "I mean that’s like the only thing he hasn’t bought into yet right?"

Duke snorted. "If that was the case, I’d know about it."

Lionel side-eyed him. "Would you, though?" He doubted if that was the case, Duke would be the best candidate after he’d recently settled out of court for profiting off selling illegal boner pills to teenage boys on his twitch streams.

Before Duke could answer, a loud, self-satisfied voice rang out from the entrance of the deck.

"Good morning, my friends!"

Miles.

The man himself strolled toward them, exuding that same smug, self-appointed guru energy that made your skin crawl.

"Let’s eat!"

The table was long, stretching down the deck, draped in crisp white linens. The Mediterranean sun cast warm golden light over the scene, reflecting off crystal-clear glasses and plates of extravagant fresh fruit, smoked salmon, eggs, pastries- whatever Miles deemed luxurious enough for his closest friends.

Claire sat with Lionel, Birdie, and Duke, all of them picking at their plates while waiting- for what, they didn’t know yet. Claire watched as Miles took his seat at the head of the table, looking over the group like he owned them. And, in a way, he did.

She felt you before she saw you. You had followed the group to the massive dining table on the deck, but rather than taking the empty seat beside Claire, you let Whisky tug you toward the far end of the table, sliding into a seat beside her, still caught up in your conversation.

Claire’s grip on her glass tightened. She wasn’t sure what irritated her more- the fact that Whisky was treating you like her new best friend, or the fact that you were letting her.

Miles took his seat at the head of the table, clapping his hands together. "So!" He leaned forward, scanning the group. "Let’s get to it. Tell me- how are we feeling? What’s the vibe? Are we inspired? Are we challenged?"

Birdie beamed. "I feel amazing."

Duke grunted. "Hungover."

"Like I need more coffee." Lionel pinched the bridge of his nose.

Claire just hummed in agreement with Lionel as she took a sip of coffee.

Miles laughed, shaking his head. "Love this. I love you guys"

Then his eyes landed on you. "And you." His grin widened. "The new addition to our group. Tell us how you capture the heart of our dear Claire?"

The table went silent, all eyes falling on you. You blinked, caught mid-sip of your orange juice.

You lowered your glass slowly. "I don’t know, Miles." You tilted your head, voice light but pointed. "You’re the one who does background checks on all your guests. You tell me."

Claire smirked. Lionel made a sound that was somewhere between a cough and a laugh. Even Duke looked mildly impressed.

Miles just chuckled, swirling the green juice in his glass. "Ahh, I like you." He shot Claire a knowing look. "She’s quick, Claire."

Claire smiled over at you, resting her hand on the table closer to your side, even though you weren’t sitting next to her. "Yeah," she said, voice tight. "I know."

Miles just leaned back, contemplative, as Birdie launched into a whole monologue about her recent escapades in New York. And Claire- well, Claire was going to kill you for making her so goddamn obsessed with you.

Miles grinned, swirling his ridiculous green juice again. "Oh, don’t be like that," he said, all charm and calculated warmth. "I’m just making sure my inner circle is taken care of."

You barely stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. Miles acted like this was some generous act, some noble offering, rather than what it really was- a reminder that he knew everything about the people in his orbit, including you.

Before you could snap back, Birdie- who had been watching you this entire time, eyes flitting over your body with a jealousy glare. Birdie wasn’t used to someone younger and hotter than her getting the attention she craved.

"Well," Birdie said, tilting her head. "I don’t know how you two even met. Tell me, Claire."

Before Claire began she patted her lap. And you- already halfway through your second mimosa, warm and still buzzing from the way she had made love to you that morning- smiled, playing along as you got up from your chair and sank down onto her lap. Claire felt your warmth against her thighs, felt the way you curled into her so easily. She smirked, letting her fingers slide through your hair, nails grazing your scalp as she tucked a strand behind your ear.

Miles’ lips parted, her jealousy barely hidden behind an impressed expression.

"Mmm," Claire hummed, fingers tangling in your hair. "You wanna tell them, baby? Or should I?"

You gave her a soft, knowing smile. "You tell it better," you murmured.

Claire’s hand slid down, resting against your bare thigh under the table. "Well," Claire said, exhaling with a little laugh as she looked at you, softening at the memory. "It was-"

~ Flashback ~

Claire’s husband sighed, exasperated. "Baby, come to bed."

She barely heard him.

She was curled up on the couch, knees tucked beneath her, a half-empty glass of wine on the table beside her, and your book clutched in her hands. Her eyes raced over the pages, devouring each word. It was past midnight, she had an early campaign meeting that morning. Her eyes burned from exhaustion, her body begged for rest- but she just couldn’t stop. The story had wrapped itself around her, dark and sharp, pulling her in like an unstoppable tide.

"Claire." He ran his hands down the couch to her shoulders, giving them a squeeze.

She flicked a hand at him, not looking up. "Don’t you dare touch me right now, I’m reading."

Her husband let out a frustrated breath before giving up and going to bed alone. Claire didn’t care, she had spent years feeling suffocated. Years playing the role of the perfect wife, the ambitious yet composed woman beside her husband. Always supporting, always agreeing, always being who he needed her to be. But lately, she had been slipping away.

At first, it was little things- staying out later at the office, taking long walks just to be alone. Then, she found the library. This gorgeous, old-world library, tucked into a quiet street near their house. A safe haven. And then, she found your books. At first, she had picked up the first one on a whim. By the time she finished it, she was already rushing back to the library to get the next one.

Even at work, her mind wandered. Sitting in a meeting, nodding along as a colleague droned on, she found herself itching to go home, to pour a glass of wine and curl up on the couch, to lose herself in your world again. It had been so long since something had made her feel this alive.

By the third book, it was an addiction. She practically sprinted to the library that afternoon, heels clicking against the floor as she made her way to the familiar shelf, reaching for the next installment. But to her horror the space was empty. No book. Claire froze, her stomach plummeted. She turned, scanning the shelves as if it had been misplaced. Nothing.

Finally, she rushed over to the front desk, fingers drumming against the wood as she waited for the librarian to look up.

"Hey," Claire said, trying not to sound as frantic as she felt. "I’m looking for the next book in that series- you know, the one by Y/N Y/L/N?"

The librarian smiled knowingly. "Ohh, yeah. It’s not out yet."

Claire blinked. "What?"

"The third book won’t be out for another few months."

Claire’s stomach sank. "No. No, no, no…" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You’re telling me I have to just wait?"

The librarian laughed. "Why don’t you just ask her what happens?"

Claire frowned. "What?"

The librarian gestured toward the far side of the room. "She’s writing it over there right now."

Claire’s breath caught in her throat as she turned round and caught sight of you. Sitting at a corner table, laptop open, fingers moving across the keys, brows furrowed in concentration.

Claire stilled. You were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Her heart skipped. Her mind went blank. For weeks, she had been consumed by your words, your mind, your world. And now, you were right there. Sitting in the same room as her. A living, breathing obsession. She swallowed, pulse hammering.

And for the first time in a long time, Claire Debella felt completely, utterly out of control.

~ End of Flashback ~

Claire’s fingers traced lazy circles against your thigh as she smiled into her glass, still lost in the memory.

"Well," she finally said, dragging out the word, "it was a library, actually."

Duke frowned. "A library?”

Birdie snorted, taking a sip of her mimosa. "People still go to libraries? Claire, since when did you go to libraries?”

Claire shot her a look. "Since I found something worth reading.”

You felt her grip on your waist tighten, just slightly.

Birdie tilted her head, intrigued. "So what, you just bumped into each other between the shelves?"

Claire smiled, shaking her head. "Not exactly." She glanced at you. "I read her books first."

Lionel hummed, clearly amused. "So you were a fan first."

"A big one," you teased, nudging Claire’s jaw with your nose.

Her fingers dug into your thigh, and you knew that if you weren’t in front of everyone, she’d shut you up with a hard, claiming kiss.

Instead, she let out a low chuckle, pressing her lips against your temple. "Careful, baby."

Birdie sighed, sipping dramatically from her drink. "Ugh, I hate couples."

Duke gave an easy grin, ignoring the jab. "So Claire finds a book, gets obsessed, and just has to meet the woman behind the words? Sounds like a movie."

You bit back a smile.

Claire had deliberately left out the part where she had devoured your books like a woman starved. How she had dreamed about you before she even knew your name. How she had fantasized about you, your voice, your mind. How meeting you had felt like a collision course she had never seen coming. How within months she’d divorced her husband for many years and moved you into her home.

"Sounds romantic," Whisky said, voice sweet, eyes warm as she looked at you.

Claire tensed. You felt it instantly- the way her body stiffened, the subtle tightening of her grip on you. Possessive. Jealous. Whisky had barely said anything, and yet Claire was already bristling.

And Miles- of course Miles noticed. He leaned back in his chair, smirking, before turning to you. "So tell me, Y/N," he mused. "You swept our dear Claire off her feet- but what made you want her?"

And just like that, the whole table was looking at you. The whole table was waiting. Miles, with that smug, knowing grin. Birdie, sipping her mimosa with wide, expectant eyes. Lionel, barely paying attention, already tired of the conversation. Duke, lounging in his seat like this was some kind of show. Whisky, watching with a soft kind of curiosity. You swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of Claire’s hand on your bare thigh, the way her fingers curled slightly, as if reminding you that you belonged to her.

Her eyes were flicking between you and Miles like she was waiting for him to twist this into something ugly. But he couldn’t. Because you wouldn’t let him. So you turned, shifting on Claire’s lap, meeting her gaze with a small smile before leaning in, pressing a kiss to her lips. Soft. Sure. A statement. Claire melted against you, her grip easing, her lips parting slightly in surprise. And then you pulled back, just enough to see the flicker of something vulnerable in her eyes before you spoke.

"Because Claire Debella is the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met."

"Her drive, her ambition-” you continued, voice steady, heart pounding. "She has dedicated her entire life to making the world better. Fighting for people who don’t have a voice. She stands in rooms full of men who have never taken a woman seriously a day in their lives, and she makes them listen." Your hand found hers, lacing your fingers together.

"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." You smiled at her.

Claire sucked in a quiet breath.

"And I love her more than anything." You breathed.

A beat. The sound of the waves against the yacht. The warmth of her body against yours. Then Claire grabbed you, fingers tangling in your hair as she kissed you fiercely, swallowing the breath from your lungs.

Nothing delicate, nothing soft, just her- unapologetic, consuming, yours. When she finally pulled away, her forehead pressed against yours, her breathing a little uneven, you swore you could feel how hard her heart was pounding. There was nothing left to say. It was just you and her.

"Damn," Duke muttered, cutting through it like a dull knife. He leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily, as if he wasn’t about to let something dangerous slip out. "Bet your ex-husband Devon took the news real well- wife leaves him, becomes a lesbian-”

Claire froze. You felt the shift before you saw it. The way her body tensed beneath you, fingers twitching where they rested against your hip, the way her breath hitched- not in that breathless way she got when she kissed you, when she needed you. But like someone had just sucker-punched her. Like someone had just ripped something from her hands.

"Oh my god," Birdie gasped, eyes going wide, her mimosa sloshing over the rim of her glass as she clutched at Duke’s arm like she’d just made the discovery of the century. "Claire, you dark horse!”

You felt sick. Because Birdie knew. Not everything, but enough. Enough to put together the one thing Claire had worked so hard to bury. That Claire Debella- rising political star, defender of the people- had been unfaithful. And you had been the reason. Claire barely moved. Her expression- carefully neutral, but her grip on you was like a vice, nails digging into your bare thigh. Like she was bracing. You could see it- the way her mind was already working, already calculating. She wasn’t just embarrassed. She wasn’t just caught off guard. She was scared. And that terrified you.

"Wait so," Birdie was still talking, leaning forward now, one manicured finger pointing accusingly in Claire’s direction. "Are you telling me that you cheated? Claire Debella, cheated? Oh, wow, I love this. I feel so much better about myself now."

"I-" Claire finally opened her mouth, voice unusually stiff, but before she could say anything…

“Birdie, for fuck’s sake," Lionel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Can you not?" He asked, clearly aware of how this conversation was affecting his friend.

"What?" she blinked, genuinely confused. "I’m celebrating! Claire’s always been so moral- ‘Oh, Birdie, think before you speak! Oh, Birdie, you can’t tweet that! Birdie, child labor laws exist for a reason!’- but this? This is messy!"

"Jesus Christ Bird," Claire muttered under her breath, looking away, nostrils flaring slightly like she was fighting the urge to snap.

"But that is interesting," Miles finally spoke up, slow and smooth, leaning his elbows onto the table as he studied Claire like she was something he’d just uncovered. Something he could use. Your stomach sank.

"I mean," he continued, all faux-curiosity, "I know you two have been keeping things private, but... well, Claire, if I’d known you had a thing for pretty young creatives, I could’ve introduced you to some screenwriters in LA."

Her fingers curled tighter around your thigh.

"It wasn’t-" she started, then stopped. She was stuck. Because what could she say?

"So what?" you finally said, voice sharper than you intended, drawing their attention back to you. You kept your expression cool, gaze steady. "She fell in love with me. What does it matter how it started?"

Birdie snorted. "Because it’s juicy."

"Because," Miles cut in smoothly, "Claire’s whole thing is integrity. The hardworking, ethical politician. The moral compass. The people’s champion." He tilted his head. "And this doesn’t quite fit that image, does it?"

Claire’s jaw clenched.

She was furious but she didn’t say a word. Because she couldn’t. And Miles knew it. He had dirt on her now. Claire Debella was indebted to him. Financially. Politically. And now- Personally.

"Oh, relax," he said, waving a hand. "Your secrets are safe with me."

You felt Claire’s pulse pounding in her wrist as she wrapped her arm around you. "We’re done here," she muttered, standing abruptly, guiding you up with her, her grip on your waist unyielding.

Birdie giggled into her drink. Miles just smiled. And as Claire pulled you away from the table, heart pounding, teeth gritted, you both knew this wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

The wind was softer down on the lower deck, the salt air warmer, the distant sound of water lapping against the yacht almost enough to drown out the tangled thoughts in Claire’s head. Almost. She barely reacted when you pulled her into a kiss- deep, grounding, your hands framing her face like you were reminding her, like you were centering her in something real. And maybe she needed that, because she melted into you, her grip tight where it rested against your waist, like she was starving for something steady. It wasn’t desperate, not yet, but it was needy. Like a tether. Like if she held you tight enough, maybe the world wouldn’t collapse beneath her feet.

She pulled away just enough to exhale, her forehead pressing against yours, breath warm, body tense.

“Are you okay?" you murmured.

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "No."

Your fingers traced the nape of her neck, soothing. "Talk to me."

Claire sighed, shifting so she could lean against the railing, arms crossed, head tilted toward the ocean. "This isn’t good," she muttered. "They know. Miles knows."

You frowned, stepping closer. "Claire, it’s not like you killed someone. We’re together. That’s the big secret?"

Her jaw clenched. "You don’t understand."

"Then help me understand."

Silence. Her fingers tapped idly against her bicep, a nervous tick.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Claire, would it really be so bad if people knew about us?"

She turned to you sharply, something flashing in her eyes, but before she could protest, you pushed forward "I mean it." Your voice was quieter now, tinged with something fragile. "I get that we had to be careful at first, that you were still… figuring things out, that you then were going through a divorce, that politics is a whole... thing. But it’s been two years."

Her throat tightened.

"I pay rent for an apartment I never go to," you continued, voice wavering. "Just to keep up appearances. We live together, Claire. I wake up in your bed, cook in your kitchen, walk your dog, exist in your space. And I love it, but-" You swallowed. "How long do I have to be your secret?"

Her expression faltered, something wounded flickering across it. "It’s not like that," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Then what is it like?”

Silence. She turned back to the railing, hands gripping it, gaze fixed on the water like it had the answer she was looking for.

"It’s not just about me," she said finally. "You think it’d be good for me? Maybe. But it’s not just me. You have no idea what people will say about you."

Your arms crossed. "I don’t care-"

"Well, I do!" She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face before turning back to you. "They’d tear you apart. They’d call you a gold digger. They’d say I manipulated you. That you seduced me for influence. That you’re too young-"

"I don’t care what a bunch of rich assholes think."

"It’s not just them," she said, voice strained. "It’s the media. It’s everyone. You don’t know what it’s like to have your entire life picked apart like carrion. You think you can handle it, but you don’t know."

You hesitated. She was scared. Not just for herself, for you. "Claire…"

"And what if this ruins me?" she asked suddenly, voice sharp, but her eyes… her eyes were uncertain. "I’m still a woman in politics. It doesn’t take much for the tide to turn. If people think I’m untrustworthy-"

"You were untrustworthy when you were married to a man and cheating with me," you snapped before you could stop yourself.

She stiffened. A muscle feathered in her jaw.

"That’s not fair," she bit out.

Your stomach twisted. "Claire I-”

"I know what I did. I know what that looks like. But this- this is different."

"Is it?" You sighed, rubbing your temples, feeling the remnants of your hangover creep in. "Look, I get it," you said, softer this time. "I get why you’re scared. But I’m scared too, Claire. I’m scared that I’m always going to be something you hide."

She flinched, just a little.

"I just... I love you," you whispered. "And I don’t want to feel like I have to prove that."

"You don’t," she murmured. And when she kissed you this time, it wasn’t out of desperation. It wasn’t trying to distract or silence or mask. It was gentle. Steady. Like a promise.

But when she pulled away, you still saw the fear in her eyes. The hesitation. The choice she still hadn’t made. And that? That told you everything.

You saw Lionel approaching before Claire did. The tense line of his shoulders, the focused pinch in his brow- it wasn’t unusual. Lionel always looked like he was carrying the weight of the world, and in some ways, he was.

“Hey Claire.” He smiled sympathetically

Claire sighed, already exhausted, running a hand through her hair. She barely looked at you before stepping toward him. Like this is more important.

Maybe it was.

But after that conversation- after seeing the hesitation in her eyes- you weren’t sure where that left you. So you stepped away. Your fingers ran absently along the yacht’s sleek railing as you put distance between yourself and Claire, a familiar ache settling in your chest. You weren’t sure where you were going, only that you needed space.

“Hey,” a voice called.

You looked up to see Whisky striding toward you, already sipping on something in a ridiculous crystal glass. She was wearing a tiny yellow bikini that left very little to the imagination, and you could feel Claire’s lingering possessiveness like a ghost at the back of your neck.

“Want one?” she asked, holding up a second glass. “Miles gave it to me, but it tastes like grass.”

“What is it?” You inspected the glass with her name engraved on it.

She wrinkled her nose. “Jared Leto’s hard kombucha.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Of course Miles drinks Jared Leto’s kombucha.”

“Want it?”

You hesitated, then smiled. “Sure.” You took it, taking a cautious sip. It was disgusting.

She grinned, like she knew.

“C’mon,” she said, nodding toward the pool. “Let’s go in.”

You exhaled slowly, glancing back toward Claire. She was deep in conversation with Lionel, brows furrowed, arms crossed. You nodded. Whisky beamed, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the pool’s edge.

You flinched when a gunshot cracked through the air. Duke laughed loudly before tucking his gun away and launching himself into the pool with a massive cannonball, drenching everything in his radius.

You blinked, completely thrown.

Whisky just sighed, shaking her head as she waded into the water. You followed, still watching as Duke resurfaced, shaking the water from himself like a dog and grinning like an idiot.

You glanced at Whisky, lowering your sunglasses. “Okay,” you said. “I have to ask- what do you see in him?”

She snorted, running her fingers through her wet hair. “Like, really?”

You nodded.

She tilted her head, watching Duke fondly as he wrestled Birdie off of a floatie, the two of them laughing like idiots. She sighed, shrugging. “I don’t know. He’s... good to me.”

You raised a brow. “Good?”

Whisky rolled her eyes, waving a hand. “I know, I know. But he is. You only see the ‘MEN’S RIGHTS, FREE SPEECH, GUNS’ version of him.” She mimicked his deep, obnoxious voice, making you snicker. “But he’s also just- dumb and loyal and... weirdly sweet. He makes me feel safe.”

You took another sip of your drink, considering. “Is that enough?”

She hesitated, expression flickering. Then she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It is for now.”

That answer didn’t sit right with you. But maybe you weren’t one to talk. Because as much as you loved Claire… you weren’t sure if you were enough for her.

The yacht pulled smoothly into port, the golden Sicilian sun casting long, shimmering reflections across the deep blue water. The coastal town ahead was breathtaking- old stone buildings stacked up along the cliffs, narrow streets winding like veins through the historic architecture, the scent of citrus and sea salt heavy in the warm air.

You stepped out of the pool, still feeling slightly unsteady from the events of the morning. Claire was behind you, wrapping a towel round your shoulders, her hand grazing the small of your back in a silent reassurance.

Then, with his signature obnoxious flair, Miles stepped forward, spreading his arms wide. “Ahhh, Sicilia!” he declared, like he personally owned the place. “I thought we could all use a change of pace- something different, you know?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. The others murmured in vague agreement, some more enthusiastic than others- Birdie gasped dramatically, pulling out her phone before Peg immediately snatched it back with a warning look.

Miles grinned. “So! Before we return to the yacht for a very special banquet, personally curated by my Michelin-starred chef-” of course he had to remind you all of that “-I thought I’d make things a little more fun.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, matte-black credit card. Or rather six of them. One for each of you.

“This is unlimited,” he said smoothly, tossing one to Lionel, then Claire, Birdie, Duke, and Whisky. Then, finally he handed one to you.

Your fingers closed around it uncertainly, feeling the cool weight of it in your palm.

“This,” Miles continued, “is a gift. A token of our friendship. Because that’s what this group is all about- loyalty, trust, taking care of each other.” His eyes gleamed knowingly, like there was a second meaning beneath his words.

You saw Claire’s jaw tighten.

“So,” Miles clapped his hands together, breaking the tension, “go all out! The card works for 4 hours so hurry to get what you need to get dressed to the nines tonight. The theme is opulence- expensive, extravagant, no limits.”

Birdie practically screamed. “Oh my God, Miles, you angel, you saint! Peg, let’s go!” She grabbed Peg’s wrist and practically dragged her off to get ready for an intense few hours of shopping before Peg could protest.

Duke whistled, flipping the black card between his fingers. “Hell yeah, brother.” He threw an arm around Whisky. “C’mon, baby, let’s find you something real nice.”

Whisky shot you a quick look before letting Duke pull her along.

Lionel sighed heavily, rubbing his temple. “Yeah, sure, why not? It’s not like this trip could get any more ridiculous.”

That left just you and Claire. You glanced at her, still holding the black card between your fingers. She wasn’t looking at you, she was looking at Miles. She wasn’t thrilled about any of this. You exhaled softly, reaching for her hand. Her gaze flicked to you, then to the black card you held. Finally, she sighed.

“Well,” she said, voice lighter than her expression. “If we’re going to play this game, we might as well win it.”

You sighed, intertwining your fingers with hers. “Let’s go be opulent.”

The door to your suite clicked shut behind you, sealing you and Claire into the cool, air-conditioned haven of your shared room. You stepped away immediately, running a hand through your hair, still gripping the sleek black credit card between your fingers.

Claire watched you closely, her arms folding across her chest. “You’re quiet,” she noted.

You shrugged, moving toward the suitcase you had barely touched since arriving. “I’m just getting changed.”

You felt her move before you saw her- the deliberate steps of her sandals against the hardwood, the subtle shift in the air as she neared you. Then, suddenly her hands slid around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against her. You inhaled sharply, feeling the familiar warmth of her body press into yours, the silk of her outfit cool against your bare skin.

“Baby,” Claire murmured, her lips grazing the side of your neck. “Don’t do that.”

You swallowed hard. “Do what?”

“Pull away from me.” Her hands wandered, palms sliding up your stomach, fingers brushing the undersides of your breasts as she kissed just beneath your jaw. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

“I know you’re upset,” she whispered, pressing her body against yours. “But we do have time…” She kissed the shell of your ear. “For me to make you feel good.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping the edge of the dresser. God, she was good at this. At unraveling you. At making the world outside her touch seem irrelevant. At making you hers. You turned in her arms, pressing a hand to her chest to keep some semblance of distance.

“Claire…”

Her lips were parted, her pupils blown wide with desire as she searched your face, desperate for a crack in your resolve.

You exhaled, smoothing your hands over her waist. “We better hurry,” you said softly. “Everyone’s waiting at the dock.”

Claire’s expression darkened for a split second- frustration flashing across her face before she masked it with a tight smile.

She hummed, straightening her spine. “Of course.”

Then, before you could step away she grabbed your chin, tilting your face up, and kissed you hard. It wasn’t just a kiss- it was a warning. A reminder. That you belonged to her. That no matter how distant you tried to be, no matter how much you tried to pull away, she wouldn’t let you.

When she pulled back, her thumb brushed over your swollen bottom lip. “Put on something pretty,” she murmured. “I want to show you off.”

And with that, she turned on her heel, heading toward the bathroom to fix her hair, leaving you standing there, heart hammering, lips tingling, and stomach twisting with an emotion you weren’t sure you could name. You swallowed hard, shaking your head, and went to change.

~

The moment you all stepped off the yacht and onto the sun-drenched port, Birdie let out a delighted gasp.

“Oh my god,” she practically moaned, spinning in place to take in the picturesque streets of the Sicilian town before you. The cobblestone streets were lined with boutique shops, cafés spilling out onto the walkways with tiny iron tables and chairs, their tabletops adorned with vases of fresh flowers. Brightly colored awnings shaded windows filled with designer pieces, handmade jewelry, and intricate ceramics.

Birdie turned to Claire, eyes sparkling. “Okay, we have to find you something in a colour other than beige.”

Claire exhaled, giving her a flat look. “I wear colors.”

Birdie snorted. “You’ll look so cuuuute.”

Peg, who was already holding three of Birdie’s bags despite them just having left the yacht, sighed. “Can we focus?”

Miles clapped his hands together, the picture of a gracious host. “Alright, my beautiful disruptors- go crazy.”

“Fuck yeah man,” Duke beamed, rubbing the card between his fingers. “This is why you’re the goat.”

“Nothing but the best for my inner circle. Now go and have fun.”

“This’ll be so good” Whisky beamed.

“Try not to bankrupt me, kid,” he teased.

Lionel, however, was watching Miles carefully, brows furrowing. “So, you’re not coming?” he asked, arms crossing.

Miles flashed a casual smile, waving a dismissive hand. “Nah, I’ve got some business to sort out. You know how it is, the tiring responsibilities of being the CEO of a multi-billion dollar empire.”

Lionel’s frown deepened. “Right.”

Whisky, who had been adjusting the straps of her tiny sundress, turned toward Miles with a pout. “Well, I’ll miss you.”

Before anyone could react, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

Miles chuckled, his hands resting low on her back, lingering just a second too long.

Your eyebrows shot up. Claire, who had already been watching you like a hawk around Whisky, saw the whole thing and immediately rolled her eyes.

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath.

Miles finally pulled back, brushing a strand of hair behind Whisky’s ear. “Don’t miss me too much,” he murmured.

You and Claire exchanged a look. Yeah. Suspicious as hell. Claire sighed, then grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she turned away from the yacht.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go spend Miles Bron’s money.”

As you walked off into town, the laughter and chatter of the group surrounding you, you couldn't shake the feeling that something about this trip, about Miles, was more than just a luxurious getaway. Something was off.

The town square was alive with movement, locals and tourists alike weaving through the stone-paved streets, the scent of espresso and fresh pastries lingering in the warm air. Birdie had immediately taken off, dragging Peg behind her toward a boutique with a window display that practically screamed exorbitantly overpriced.

Duke, meanwhile, had positioned himself in the middle of the square, holding court like he was on one of his live streams. He had one foot propped up on a fountain ledge, aviators pushed onto his forehead, a self-assured grin on his face as he talked to Lionel about how the woke mob was ruining masculinity and how he was in some kind of on-going Twitter beef with Jimmy Kimmel.

Whisky stood at his side, silent and poised, her usual charming smile plastered on as Duke kept her tucked under his thick arm like some kind of trophy.

You barely had time to process any of it before Claire grabbed your wrist and pulled you down a quieter street, away from the group.

“We’re leaving them?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder.

Claire didn’t break stride. “I cannot spend another second with Whisky.”

You frowned. “Wow. You really don’t like her, huh?”

The distaste was evident in the way Claire exhaled sharply through her nose, “Can you blame me?” she said, voice dry. “She’s so…” Claire made a vague, frustrated gesture. “ I mean her names Whisky.”

You snorted. “That explains nothing.”

Claire stopped in front of a store, glancing at the designer dresses in the window, but it was obvious she wasn’t really looking at them.

“She’s young,” Claire muttered. “And… naive. And uses it to her advantage.”

You crossed your arms. “So do a lot of people”

“Yes, but she… ” Claire exhaled, looking away, jaw tight.

You suddenly understood. “Oh my God,” you said slowly, a smirk creeping onto your lips. “You’re jealous of Whisky.”

Claire scoffed, turning back toward the window. “That is not- ” She cut herself off, arms crossed. “She weaponizes it. That whole innocent wide-eyed act? It’s bullshit. And you-” Her eyes flicked back to you, sharp. “She likes you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Claire’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And I don’t like that.”

Your smirk widened. “Aw. Is someone feeling territorial?”

Claire rolled her eyes, but you could see the way her fingers twitched like she wanted to grab you, to pull you into her and remind you exactly whose arms you belonged in. Instead, she exhaled and turned on her heel, heading for the store entrance.

“Come on,” she said, her voice still brimming with annoyance. “If we have to suffer through this trip, we’re at least going to look fucking stunning for it.”

You chuckled as you followed her inside.

The boutique smelled of expensive perfume and fresh leather, the lighting soft and flattering, making everything inside seem even more indulgent. Mannequins draped in shimmering gowns stood on pedestals, and elegant displays showcased delicate, lacy lingerie sets. The kind designed to be taken off slowly.

Claire hated it. Not because she didn’t appreciate nice clothes- she did. She just never really had the time to think about them. Her wardrobe had always been a careful balancing act. In politics, every outfit was a statement, and if you cared too much, if you looked too put-together, if you wore one thing that could be considered too expensive or too trendy, the press would eat you alive. There was a reason she let her campaign team handle her wardrobe for public appearances. And when she dressed for you- for date nights, for lazy mornings, for stolen moments in hotel rooms on the campaign trail it was either whatever she thought worked with the items provided… or whatever you picked out for her.

She watched as you trailed your fingers along racks of silks and satins, your sharp eye scanning through dresses, your mouth quirking as you lifted a hanger to inspect the dress. You knew what you liked. You owned it. And fuck, you looked good doing it. Her mouth watered as her gaze drifted lower, past the curve of your back, the line of your thighs.

Then you turned toward one of the displays of lingerie- delicate lace bralettes, garter sets, whisper-thin slips designed purely to be sinful. You reached out, picking up a set in a shade of deep red, and turned back to her with a playful smirk.

“What would you like to see me in?” you asked, wrapping your arms around her waist.

Claire exhaled, her hands settling on your hips as she met your gaze. “I think you know the answer to that,” she murmured, voice lower now.

Your smirk widened. “Do I?”

She glanced down at the set in your hand, then back at you, her eyes darkening. “You could wear any of these,” she said, fingers brushing along your lower back, “and I’d just want to tear it off you.”

Your grip on her tightened just slightly, and Claire smirked. “But this one…” Her hand skimmed the lace between your fingers. “This one would look obscene on you.”

You shivered, pressing closer. “Yeah?”

She hummed, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. “Get it.”

You grinned, tugging her into a slow, teasing kiss before slipping away to grab your size. Claire exhaled, running a hand through her hair, her pulse pounding. Yeah. She was completely fucked.

You began looking through the racks of dresses, holding them up against your body to check the fit. Smiling over at her and doing a little twirl. Claire had never been that kind of woman. The kind who enjoyed this. The kind who walked into a place like this and knew exactly what she wanted and didn’t feel fucking ridiculous about it.

She glanced down at the dress in her hands- plain, serviceable, easy. But before she could slip away to pay for it, you turned, catching sight of her choice. You frowned, stopping in your tracks.

"Baby, come on," you said, walking over to her. "You barely even looked at that."

Claire exhaled, rubbing her temple. "This is fine."

You gave her an unimpressed look. "Fine isn’t the point."

She shifted under your gaze, feeling exposed in a way she wasn’t used to. It was so fucking stupid, really. She’d stood her ground against senators and oil lobbyists. She’d stared down reporters who wanted nothing more than to rip her apart. She’d survived Miles fucking Bron. And yet- standing here, under the soft boutique lighting, with you looking at her like that- she felt out of her depth.

You must’ve seen it, must’ve felt her hesitation, because instead of pushing, you softened. You stepped closer, cupping her face in your hands, thumbs grazing her cheekbones.

“Hey,” you murmured, grounding, steady.

She let out a breath. "Hey."

You smiled softly, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. Claire sighed into it, letting her shoulders relax, letting herself breathe.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, “Let’s find something you really like, yeah?”

She swallowed.

“We have time.” And something about the way you said it, the patience in it, the warmth, made her chest ache. Claire wasn’t used to someone giving her that kind of time.

She exhaled, nodding. “Okay.”

You grinned, taking her hand, tugging her toward the more extravagant gowns. Claire exhales, nodding, trusting you to guide her through this. And then there it is. A dress that catches your eye immediately. A stunning black sequined gown, structured yet dramatic, with that signature crisp white collar and cuffs. It’s bold, powerful, and effortlessly elegant, just like her.

You pluck it from the rack and hold it up between you. “This,” you murmur, watching her expression carefully. She hesitates, her lips pressing together like she wants to argue, but you see the flicker of something in her eyes. Interest.

“It’s-” she starts, shaking her head, but you don’t let her finish.

“It’s perfect,” you counter. “And you’re trying it on.”

A few minutes later, she steps out of the fitting room, smoothing the fabric over her hips. The way the sequins catch the light, the way the structure of the dress commands attention—it’s everything. You stare, unabashed, taking her in, and when your eyes meet hers, there’s a rare flicker of uncertainty on her face.

“Well?” she asks, a little hesitant.

You walk up to her, slow and deliberate, taking her hand and pulling her in just enough for your lips to ghost over her ear. “Baby,” you murmur, voice low and full of promise, “I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off you tonight.”

Claire huffs a soft laugh, but you don’t miss the way her breath catches, the way her fingers tighten around yours. “You’re ridiculous,” she mutters, but you catch the small, satisfied smile she tries to hide as she turns back toward the mirror.

Yeah. This was the one.

Now it was your turn. You step out of the dressing room, the deep red fabric clinging to you in all the right places, shimmering under the boutique’s golden lighting. The delicate floral embroidery catches the light, giving the illusion of cherry blossoms blooming along your curves.

The moment she sees you, Claire freezes. Her mouth parts slightly, eyes darkening as they rake over you from head to toe. You watch her chest rise and fall with a sharp inhale, and before you can even get a word out she’s crossing the room in three quick strides, hands firmly on your waist as she practically shoves you back into the dressing room.

“Claire- ” You barely have time to squeak before your back hits the mirror, her lips already on your neck, hands roaming over the fabric of your dress like she can’t decide where to touch first.

“Oh, my pretty baby,” she murmurs against your skin, voice thick with adoration. “Look at you. Jesus Christ, you’re so-” She cuts herself off with a reverent kiss, pressing her body flush against yours.

Her fingers trace the neckline, dipping teasingly along the fabric. “Gonna lose my mind over you,” she whispers, pressing kisses along your collarbone. “How the hell am I supposed to let you leave wearing this when all I wanna do is keep you right here and kiss you everywhere?”

Heat pools in your stomach, your hands gripping her shoulders as she presses another dizzying kiss to your lips. “Claire,” you mumble between breaths, barely able to think straight, “we’re in a store.”

“Mm,” she hums, completely unbothered. “And?”

You huff a laugh, tilting your head back as her lips trail lower. “And we have places to be.”

She groans dramatically, but when she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her expression is soft and completely smitten. “Fine,” she relents, though her hands linger on your waist. “But, baby?”

“Yeah?”

She leans in, brushing her lips over your ear. “You’re so wearing this for me again later.”

You smirk, stepping closer and turning slightly to show off the gown. “You like?”

Claire swallows hard. “Understatement of the century.”

~

The sun is starting to set, casting a golden glow over the town square, the soft hum of conversation and distant music making everything feel warm and easy. You’re curled up in Claire’s arms on a bench, your ice cream slowly melting as you lazily watch the world go by.

It’s nice, just existing, just being. No glances over your shoulders, no hushed, careful distance. Just two people sharing ice cream, wrapped up in each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You sigh contentedly, shifting against her. “This is nice,” you murmur, licking your ice cream. “Not having to hide. Just being… another couple having ice cream.”

Claire hums, thoughtful. You can feel her hand tighten slightly around your waist. “Yeah,” she says softly, almost to herself. She’s considering something, you can tell. And for a brief second, a part of you wonders if she’s thinking about what it would be like to do this all the time. Out in the open, no secrets, no careful maneuvering. But you don’t push. You won’t. You know better than to hold onto something that might not happen.

So instead, you nudge her. “Lemme try yours.”

Claire turns her head slowly, unimpressed. “I knew you were gonna steal mine.”

You pout dramatically. “You can have some of mine?”

She scoffs. “I don’t want yours. I want mine.”

“Tough shit,” you say, swiping a bit of her ice cream onto your spoon.

She glares at you, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. And before she can protest again, you boop the tip of her nose with the cold ice cream, watching her jerk back with a startled laugh.

“You little-”

You don’t let her finish, leaning in and kissing the laughter right off her lips. She tastes like vanilla and caramel, her hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as she kisses you slow, deep, like she’s savoring every second.

When you finally pull away, breathless and grinning, Claire shakes her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me,” you tease.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it. Instead, she wipes her nose with the back of her hand, eyes still crinkled in amusement.

And just like that, the world keeps turning around you. But for now, it’s just the two of you, here, in this tiny corner of the world, stealing ice cream and kisses like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You’re still tucked against Claire, savoring the last of your ice cream when you hear a familiar voice carrying across the square.

“Peg, come on, you’re moving like a sloth in a coma.”

You turn just in time to see Birdie strutting towards you, her signature oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, while Peg- poor, suffering Peg- is trailing behind her, arms overloaded with shopping bags. She’s carrying so much you genuinely think she might topple over at any second.

Claire lets out an amused snort, her chest shaking against your back. “Jesus, Bird. Got enough?”

Birdie waves her off dramatically. “Oh, please.” She gestures to one singular, tiny bag at the very top of the pile. “That one’s for Peg, so it’s not all mine.”

Claire side-eyes her. “Uh-huh. How generous of you.”

“Thank you Claire” she beams.

You shake your head, laughing, before pushing yourself up from the bench. “Here, Peg, let me help before you get buried under.”

Peg gives you a grateful look as you take a few bags off her hands, her arms finally free enough to stretch. “You’re a lifesaver,” she mutters.

Before you can respond, Lionel appears at your side, taking a few more bags without a word. You exchange a quick glance, sharing an unspoken understanding of what it’s like to be pulled into Birdie’s orbit.

Birdie, meanwhile, is entirely unbothered, already fussing with the strap of her bag. “Okay, now that that’s settled, who wants to go for drinks? I’m exhausted.”

Claire chuckles, sliding an arm around your waist as she stands. “Lead the way.” And with that, you fall into step with Claire’s little makeshift family, the easy warmth of the moment wrapping around you like the summer air.

The bar was dimly lit, the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses filling the space as you sat with Claire, Lionel, and Birdie. But after the first twenty minutes, you quickly realized you weren’t really in the conversation- just there. Lionel and Claire were deep in some debate, while Birdie was rambling about a designer she’d just met, not really listening to either of them. You had tried to chime in a few times, but it was like trying to jump into a double-dutch rope that never slowed down. Eventually, you just gave up, sipping your drink and zoning out. That’s when Duke and Whisky walked in.

The moment you spotted Whisky, relief flooded through you. You weren’t sure if she felt the same until her eyes landed on you, and her whole face lit up. She wasted no time making a beeline toward you.

“Oh, thank God,” she muttered as she reached you before nodding toward the bar. “Come with me?”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. “Absolutely.”

As the two of you slid up to the bar, you turned to her. “You and Duke have been together for a while right? How many of these things have you been to?”

She sighed, waving a hand at the bartender before giving you a knowing look. “Three.”

Your eyes widened. “Three?”

She laughed at your reaction, shaking her head. “Yeah. And trust me, they’re all like this.”

You groaned, letting your head drop against the bar as you pictured going through another 3 of these trips. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Whisky said dryly, taking a sip of her drink. “When they’re together, they’re kind of the worst.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Tell me about it.”

Whisky tilted her head, watching you for a moment before saying, “You know, I never did ask. Why’re you with Claire?”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “What?”

“Come on,” Whisky said, grinning now. “You asked me about Duke, so I think it’s only fair that I ask you about Claire.”

You huffed a small laugh, swirling the ice in your glass. “What, you think she’s that bad?”

Whisky gave you a look. “Yes?” She leaned in conspiratorially. “She’s the worst one of them- at least to me. I mean, Duke’s friends always see me as just some hot girl with no brain, but Claire?” She let out a dry laugh. “Claire hates me.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “She’s… not your biggest fan, yeah.”

Whisky scoffed. “No kidding.” She took another sip of her drink. “She acts like I personally ran over her dog or something. Like, I was actually excited to meet her for the first time. I mean, she’s Claire Debella, right? She’s a powerful woman in politics. That’s kinda inspiring.”

You frowned, surprised. “You were excited to meet her?”

Whisky nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I eventually want to get into politics myself- not at Claire’s level, obviously, but still. I wanted to talk to her about it, maybe even get some advice.” She rolled her eyes. “But it took, like, two seconds to realize that was never gonna happen. She made it very clear that we wouldn’t be friends anytime soon.”

You exhaled, guilt tugging at your chest. “I’m sorry,” you said, meaning it.

Whisky shrugged, then leaned forward on the bar. “So, back to my question- why Claire?”

You paused, thinking. “I know she can seem like the classic stressed-out politician, all hard-faced bitch sometimes. But that’s just…” You hesitated, then shook your head. “That’s just how she has to be for her job.”

Whisky raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue.

You smiled softly to yourself. “But she loves me.”

Whisky didn’t say anything, just watched you as you went on.

“You smiled softly, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass as you thought about all the little things she did that made you fall in love with her, over and over again.

“She loves me,” you said again, but softer this time. More to yourself than to Whisky. Then, after a beat, you looked up, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

“She takes me on bookshop dates,” you began, your voice laced with fondness. “She never rushes me, even though I know she gets impatient. I can spend hours just wandering between shelves, reading the backs of books I won’t even buy, and she doesn’t complain. She just follows me around, letting me talk at her about why I love certain authors or why this particular edition of a book is superior. And she listens… like, really listens. She even started keeping a list of books I mention offhand, so she can surprise me with them later.”

Whisky’s expression softened a fraction, but she stayed quiet, letting you continue.

“She washes my hair for me in the shower,” you said, smiling a little at the thought. “Not just, like, quickly scrubbing and rinsing. She takes her time. She massages my scalp, runs her fingers through my hair so gently it makes me melt right there against her. And she does it every single time, like it’s just our thing. Like she wants to take care of me.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “She tells me she loves me every night before bed, no matter where she is. Even if she’s on the other side of the country, campaigning or working some insane hours, she always finds time to call me. And if I fall asleep before she can? I wake up to a voice note.” Your heart squeezed at the thought. “It’s never just good night, love you, either. It’s detailed. Like I saw something today that reminded me of you or I wish you were here because you would’ve loved this weird café I found. She makes time for me. Even when she’s exhausted.”

You paused, swallowing down the emotion creeping up your throat.

“She gives me confidence in my writing,” you went on, voice a little steadier. “When my publishers are being assholes, when I start doubting myself, she never lets me sink too far into it. She sits me down, makes me talk about what I’m writing, reminds me why I love it. She tells me I’m brilliant. That my words matter.” You smiled wryly. “And trust me, when Claire tells you you’re brilliant, you believe it.”

Whisky gave a small huff of amusement at that, but her eyes were still focused, still listening.

“Yes she’s older than me,” you said, a small, private smile tugging at your lips, “but she’s never made me feel small. She talks to me like an equal. Like what I have to say matters.” You let out a slow breath, shaking your head slightly. “She’s so smart, but she never makes me feel stupid. She’s opinionated, but she never makes me feel like mine don’t count. She challenges me, but she listens to me. She doesn’t just love me- she respects me.”

Whisky’s lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but she hesitated.

You inhaled, looking down at your hands for a second before you met her gaze again. “She left her husband for me,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “That’s not something I take lightly. I know it’s messy, and it’s not something she’s proud of, but… she chose me. And she’s never once made me feel like I wasn’t worth that choice.”

You met Whisky’s gaze, feeling the weight of your own words settle in your chest.

“She’s a good partner,” you finished, voice thick with conviction. “A really good one.”

Whisky studied you for a moment, then nodded slightly, like she understood.

Then, after a beat, she tilted her head. “So why does she hide your relationship?”

The warmth in your chest chilled instantly. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t answer. Because that… that was the one question you tried not to ask yourself too often. Because it hurt.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your drink, the condensation slick against your skin. You don't answer right away, because the truth of it is so heavy, so dense in your chest that it feels like it'll crush your ribs if you let it out too fast. Instead, you focus on the ice swirling in the glass, your stomach twisting as you try to find the right words.

"Because she can’t right now," you finally say, your voice quieter than before, as if saying it out loud might somehow make it worse. "She’s planning to run for Senate. You know what people are like. If they found out about us, the homophobic assholes wouldn’t vote for her. It’s why she’s still using Devon’s last name. If people think she’s still that picture-perfect congresswoman with a husband and a kid, they’ll back her. She needs that support to even have a shot."

Whisky leans against the bar, looking at you with something softer than before- less curiosity, more pity. Her fingers trace circles against the rim of her glass.

"So..." she hesitates, watching the way your jaw tenses, the way your gaze stays locked on the drink in your hand. Then, quieter, almost like she doesn’t want to say it: "She’ll never come out then?"

And just like that, it feels like something inside you caves in.

Your throat goes tight, that burning feeling rising up, and for a second, you can’t breathe.

Because you don’t know.

Because maybe that’s the part that keeps you awake at night, staring at the ceiling of an apartment you don’t even live in, wondering if she’ll ever really choose you, really claim you. Not just in private, in whispered I-love-yous before bed, in the way she pulls you into her arms when no one else is looking- but in public, where it actually matters.

You swallow hard, forcing down the lump in your throat. "I don’t know," you admit, barely above a whisper. "I really don’t."

And that’s the worst part.

Because you love Claire with everything you have. And you know she loves you. But love isn’t always enough. And what if this- this thing between you, no matter how deep, how real- never leaves the shadows?

What if you’re always the secret? The thought makes your chest ache, like something sharp twisting inside of you.

Whisky doesn’t say anything right away. She just watches you, her expression unreadable, before finally sighing and looking away. "That’s rough," she says eventually, her voice softer than you expected. "You deserve better than that."

And maybe she’s right. Maybe she’s completely right. But it doesn’t change the fact that you don’t want better. You want Claire.

Taglist: @harknessshi @agathascoven1 @notorious-vick @jessica-mcd @sapphicfleur @lisqueen @starryjeongyeon @brekker157 @maximilfism @meghina18 @onlybynightandonlybysea @buttercandy16 @milflovers4 @rigglemethat @mistyshane30 @certified-sleep-deprived @agathaallalongg @yun4-st4rx @psychickryptonitebouquet

[spookysteddie]

That Friday Night

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader

read part one here

18+ MINORSDNI

cw: alcohol, drugs (weed and cocaine), clubbing, slight Dom!Eddie if you squint, possessive!Eddie, swearing, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), light choking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, edging, creampie. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 4.3k (I'm so sorry)

a/n: First of all, I want to thank every single person who liked, reblogged or made comments about part one. I was shitting myself posting it because (like I said) this is not an original thought. I'd read a few and it gave me this wave of inspiration. I am very proud of this part. It's also a little long (sorry sorry sorry I couldn't stop) . Also I don't think I'll be doing a tag list? When I used to do that no one on the list would like the fic and it was a lot of work. I hope that is okay? Let me know if you want more! I love and appreciate all of you!

...

You weren’t the type of person who got shy. Your entire job is being in front of a camera, telling people what you like, what you wear, the type of music you listen to. You did brand deals and went on lots of trips with people you didn’t know. Public interaction was easy for you and you definitely enjoyed it. 

But being personally invited to your favorite band's concert (even if you had tickets already) as their frontman's personal guest? It makes you weak in the knees. 

Telling your team about the phone call went about as good as one would expect. Anna and Case frown at you while continuing to say ‘you could’ve let it go to voicemail and we could’ve handled it directly with his people. AND why did you have him send the information directly to you?’

They weren't necessarily wrong in being upset. There were plenty of ways a conversation like that could be twisted and fucked with, especially if, for whatever reason, someone was recording the phone call. It was very easy for them to manipulate and edit that kind of shit, and drama was the last thing you wanted. 

However, the rest of the week went by without an issue. The gossip magazines had moved on to something else (though there were a few who continued to speculate about your non-relationship with Eddie. You did your deals, and kept yourself busy. And by the time Friday rolled around you were hardly nervous. 

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

“Bell bottom star pants. Absolutely,” Hana says from her place on your bathroom counter, practically in the sink. “With that black leather top you love AND the red leather jacket. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the red boots!” 

You put the outfit on, looking in the mirror, “you don’t think it’s too… stereotypical?” 

Hana looks at you through the mirror, “no such thing. You look great.” 

Hana was one of the few people in your life who’d tell you like it is. You could trust her to tell you if her gut feelings were off, or on. She was your best friend and one of the few people who weren’t just here for the exposure. She’s here to be your cheerleader and you were hers. 

“Alright, let's get this going before I change my mind which I am two seconds away from doing.” 

… 

You should’ve changed your mind. 

You can hardly keep from throwing up as you're led by security to a private entrance. To get there you have to pass by their tour buses. All you can hear is loud music and whooping from inside. It’s clear they’re running around in there as the bus is rocking and all you can do is pray they don’t see you. 

You’re far too sober for the interaction you’ll be having at this current time. 

Unfortunately for you, the universe hates you. Just when you think you’re home free, the door opens, almost smacking you in the face. 

“Don’t think you can get away that easy, Asher,” Eddie says as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown wide, clearly from whatever drug he’s consumed. More than likely cocaine and weed. His words aren’t slurred so he isn’t drunk, though he does have a beer bottle in his large hands. 

God his hands, there have been many times where you’d imagine them wrapped around your throat, cutting off air as he fucks you like he hates you. You bet he could reach you even as he’s eating you out, he’s so tall and long. 

You wish you could say the grin you shoot at him is fake, however with the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour and smother you, it's not. You feel like a fucking school girl who has a crush. Your heart pounds so fast in your chest and you swear everyone around you can hear it. 

“We weren’t running away,” you say, voice a little breathier than you’d like. “Um this is my best friend-” 

“Hana, nice to meet you,” he cuts you off. It’s then that you see his eyes get wide and you know he’s been stalking your profile. Not that you can say anything because you’ve done it… a lot. “I, uh, saw the instagram story you put up earlier.” 

Hana smirks, “sure you did, big boy.” She pats his chest and is clearly much braver than you. That’s another thing about you and her, if one of you is feeling not confident, the other makes up for it. Like, on your own, asking for ketchup feels like cutting off a limb, but if she can't do it then it's up to you and vice versa. 

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, his black t-shirt stretching over his wide shoulder, “want to join us? We have alcohol!” 

“We would love that. Wouldn’t we?” Hana looks down at you with her brows raised, still taller than you in heels. 

You nod, “yes. Yeah absolutely! Are we allowed to photograph in here?” 

You know it’s a stupid thing to ask, but you also don’t want to take a photo of you and Hana and then not be able to post it. And what if you get photos with the rest of the band? Everyone already knows you’re going to be here. Just not… in this tour bus. 

Eddie nods, holding out his hand, “you are allowed to do whatever you want, pretty girl. And if anyone has an issue, send them my way, yeah?” He kisses the hand you’ve placed in his before leading you up the stairs of his bus. 

It's chaos in there, pure and utter chaos. You turn to look at Hana, silently telling her how insane this is. She nods slightly, but you see the grin on her face. Hana loves this stuff; the parties, the madness, all of it.

Eddie introduces you to the band, pulling you in closer by the waist. “You all need to be on your best behavior. No one touches her. Do you all understand me?” Your heart flutters at how serious he is and it instantly forces his bandmates eyes to fall to your feet. It’s impressive, actually. 

Suddenly, a bottle of beer is in your hands, passed to you by Eddie. “Oh… thank you.” You can hardly look at him as a small smile forms on your lips. His attention makes you feel all kinds of funny inside, your stomach doing flips. You know you have to look at him eventually, but he’s just so pretty that it actually hurts. 

“Um, so are you excited for your show?” This time you manage to actually drag your eyes to his. He smiles at you, his teeth so beautiful and perfect. It’s when he sits down that you realize that was a stupid question. Of course he’s excited. This is his actual job. 

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at you through his lashes, you could kiss him. But you don’t for obvious reasons. Reasons you can't really think of at the moment. Not when he’s looking at you like that.  The beer bottle hangs in his right hand between his legs. 

“Very. Not much comes close to the feeling I get when we’re on that stage.” He shakes his head, curly hair moving with him, “plus, being able to hear people sing my songs back to me is fucking incredible.” 

His hand finds yours, pulling you a little closer. Eddie is testing the waters, you know this. Unfortunately for you, your brain can’t see through the cloud of lust. So, you let him pull you closer, sit you on his lap, and wrap an arm around you. 

Your brain does catch up, quicker than expected. “It seems like it’d be incredible. I applaud you cause I could never do that. I have stage fright.” 

He blinks up at you, “stage fright? Haven’t you done red carpet interviews and stuff?” 

You shift a little, shrugging, “well yes. But that’s different.” You can't stop the awkward laugh that comes out of you. It was true, it was different. You weren’t exactly sure why but it was. 

Eddie's thumb moves along your side slightly and it leaves goosebumps in its wake. 

“I’m being honest, the lights are so bright that I can’t see everyone in the crowds. Mainly just the front rows. Makes it easier.” 

Eddie puts his beer bottle on the ground by his feet before sitting up and grabbing a joint. He’s quiet as he lights it, puffing out smoke to get it going. “Want some?” 

He holds the joint towards you, waiting for your answer. You’ve done this before at the frat houses at college. You’ve done it here and there in high school as well. This is second nature, but this time you’re nervous. What if you forget how to inhale? What if you throw up? Any number of things can happen. 

Something happens inside you and your brain finally catches up to itself. A small stroke of confidence happens and without taking your eyes off of him, you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the joint and inhaling. His eyes stay locked on yours, his tongue wetting his lips. You pull back, slowly blowing out the smoke. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” It comes out in a whisper and you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His eyes falling from your eyes, to your lips and back again. 

God you want to kiss him. His pillowy lips would feel amazing against yours, you just know it. You start to lean into him, desperate to know if you’re right.   

A bang on the door scares the fuck out of the both of you and Eddies boot knocks over his bottle. It’s a good thing he drank most of it, the contents not spilling on the plush carpet. 

“Let’s get going guys. Put your dicks back in your pants, we have a show to do.” You know that voice, that’s their manager. He’s the one who called your people to make sure you had all the rules for this evening. 

Photos are fine. 

Everyone must be tagged. 

Nothing negative. 

Absolutely no photos of any white substances. Even if it’s sugar. 

That last one would be hard considering it was on every flat surface in neat, clean lines. 

You go to stand up, but Eddie stops you, his hand tightening on your hip. “Promise I’ll see ya after?” 

You nod, “y-yeah of course.” 

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, sweet and you don’t want it to end. In fact, you totally forget about all the other people in the room. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as his tongue begs for permission. And once you grant it, it’s game over. 

He tastes like beer and weed and cigarettes and you love it. You want more. You want to get closer. 

But it’s not long before the door to his trailer opens up, his manager stepping into the bus. “I said get your dicks and tongues together. We cannot be late.” 

… 

By the time the show is over you barely have a voice, and you’re sure you’ve never been more turned on in your life. It might seem silly to say, but Eddie's kiss lingered the entire show and all you want is more. 

Back stage the band is still running on adrenaline, drinking water for once to try and refuel for the rest of the night. The rest of the night being a club that they frequent. A club you don’t go to because of that exact reason. 

“Ohhhhh! There's the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Eddie's voice booms as security goes to double check you and Hana. “Hey! Leave them alone. They’re with me.” 

Security stands back, hands raise like he knows it’ll cause more issues if he doesn’t. You almost feel bad for the poor guy, he was just trying to do his job. Like what if you had a bomb or something? 

“C’mon we gotta get outta here.” He laces his fingers with yours before he pulls you along with him. You look over your shoulder, catching Hana's eyes. 

Go! She mouths, hanging off Gareth's arm. I’ll meet you there! 

And so, you go. Are you nervous? Yes absolutely. Are you going to pretend you aren’t and have some confidence? Yes. Fake it till you make it right?

Eddie opens the door to the car, extending a hand, “ladies first.” 

You grin at him as you elegantly slide into the car, “wow. I didn’t know you were such a gentle man.” This time when you giggle, it's cute and self assured. 

“Yes, I have been told my entire life that I look,” he slides in sucking in a soft, thinking breath, “mean and scary.” 

“You look like a doberman but they’re precious babies.” You mean it too. He looks a little mean and scary, especially in the red lights of the stage. Not to mention the “devil music” (says the media) which can get a little dark. But that’s what makes it great, in your opinion. Plus, he does look like doberman. Like he could probably kill you but would actually not? 

“‘Precious babies?’” 

You nod, “mhm! I grew up with them. Very sweet and love kisses. Oh! And they each had their own comfort toys.” 

“Then maybe I am one because I do love kisses.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning over your face. He still smells like beer and cigarettes mixed in with the smell of his cologne. 

It’s your turn to close the gap and planting your lips on his. The kiss is hotter, more intense. One could argue it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your system that makes you so bold. You’re buzzed, but not drunk. It isn’t long before his hands are in your hair, tugging. It makes you moan in his mouth, opening up to him. 

He sits back, his hands in your hair pulling you with him, making you sit in his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his hips, your cunt nestled right against the bulge in his pants. He couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. You test the waters by rocking your hips, the friction being so sweet that you’re the one who lets out a moan. 

“God, that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.” He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “Should record it and use it in our next song.” 

You hum and grin, “I wouldn’t mind that. Always wanted to be in a song. Can’t sing though.”  

He nips at your ear, “that’s my job baby.” 

Eddie's large hand grips your hips, stopping your movements. You want to whine, you want to protest. You were so fucking close. 

“We’ll save that for when we're back at my place.” 

You grin and kiss along his jaw, “who says I’m going back to your place?” 

“The way you were just grindin’ against my cock, angel.” He grins, “also with how you’re lookin’ at me.” 

“And how am I looking at you? Hmm?” 

“Like you want me to fuck you while your brain leaks out your cunt.” 

You shudder at the crudeness of his words. No one has ever spoken to you like that and looked like him. The car stopping in front of the club saves you from trying to come up with an answer. One you know will either be embarrassing or non-existent. 

He looks over at the paparazzi that is waiting and sighs, “are we going in together or…” 

The decision you make is quick. If you’re going to do this, even for one night, you’re going to do it together and let them talk. You give him a quick kiss, “together. Give ‘em something to talk about, yeah?” 

So, you do. 

The second you’re out of the car, cameras flash and photographers call out a mix of your name and his and you can hardly understand what they’re saying. You don’t stop to pose, letting them only photograph you and him walking hand and hand. Give them crumbs as your manager says. Once you’re in the club, not even needing to show an ID or give a name. 

From there the night happens in a blur. The band has the VIP section where bottles of expensive liquor are brought over by women dressed in a bikini. You know how much all of this costs (more than you can afford that’s for sure) but you also know that all of this is on Eddie and the bands tab. He’s told you six times. 

So you drink. And you smoke. And you watch pretty white lines disappear, most of which disappear up Eddie's nose. Of course you take videos, vlogging your night and making sure to follow all the rules that were set prior to this meeting. Taking photos to remember the night. Hana is having a blast, taking shots like it’s her job and making out with Gareth in between. Of course she takes photos with you, sitting in your lap and giggling so much the photos come out blurry. But those are your favorite kinds of photos. 

“Dance with me?” Eddie says in your ear over the music. 

You take the shot that is in your hands, “lead the way.” 

The second you’re surrounded by sweaty bodies you feel invisible. You’re sure someone has cameras on you and him but at the moment you don’t care. 

Your hips move to the music, back against Eddie's chest while his hands explore your body. His lips move against your neck, sucking a dark mark into it that you know you’ll struggle to cover later. Again, you don’t care. What you do care about is the hardness that you feel against your back. 

You spin around, grinning up at him. God he’s so fucking tall you have to tilt your head up a good bit to look at him. 

“We should get out of here,” you say as he pulls you into him. 

He smirks, “thought you weren’t coming back to my place sweetheart.” 

“Seems I told a fib. Now, I need you to take me home and fuck me like you hate me.” 

It’s all he needs before he’s grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of the club. The car is there and he quickly pulls you into the back seat. Once those doors are closed, the window tint so dark you couldn’t see inside if you tried, his mouth his on yours. Your stomach flips and the neediness you feel coming off of him. He pulls you till you’re straddling him, legs on either side of his hips. Not really the safest but at this point, all you need is his lips on you. 

The ride to Eddie’s consists of lots of kissing, so much so that you know your lips are swollen. You don’t get to see much of Eddie’s house, too focused on getting inside the house and into his bedroom. He drags you up the stairs, your hand is his. And once you’re in his room, he has you pressed up against his bedroom door. 

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Eddie pushes your jacket off your shoulders while he speaks, his words going straight to your clit. Your mind can barely comprehend that Eddie Munson, the man you’ve had a crush on since they were considered an ‘underground band,’ is currently taking off your clothes. 

You do the same to him, pushing his leather jacket to the ground before tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Me? You are so beautiful.” 

He hums, popping the button on your jeans, “should we take a poll on who's prettier? Winner takes the loser on a date?” 

That makes you laugh, “sounds like a deal. But first, you need to fuck me.” 

His eyes nearly go black at that and before you can think, he’s throwing you on this bed. You land with a small oomph. You decide to take a little initiative, pulling off your boots, scooting off your pants and pulling off your top. 

Eddie watches, rapt and almost possessed, his eyes scanning your partially naked body. It’s not anything more than someone would see if you posted in a bathing suit, but you can’t help but feel nervous that he isn’t going to like you. 

He quickly puts those fears (fears he knows nothing about) to rest as he settles between your legs. His eyes don’t leave yours as he kisses up your thighs. You know there is a wet patch on your underwear and you know he can see it. You do feel embarrassed about it, but at the same time, Eddie is slightly rutting against the bed so he must like it. Right? 

You can feel your body heat as he gets closer and closer to your center. 

“Eddie, please don’t tease me.” Never have you begged a man. Typically whoever you were in bed with did the begging, much to your dislike. You were desperate for someone to take charge. Now you know why they didn’t. One bruise and they get shit from all your followers. Even if you tell them to leave these men alone. 

But Eddie? He wasn’t afraid. 

“But it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.” 

You huff, squirming exactly like he said as he sits up to pull your underwear down your legs before setting back between them. “Need you to touch me.” 

He licks a stripe up your slit, sucking on your clit as he gets to the top. The sound that falls from your lips is beautiful, sweeter than the sound you made in the car. Now Eddie really wants to put you in a song, but the jealous, primal side of him never wants someone else to be able to hear your moans. 

In fact, he doesn’t want to think about any of the other men who’ve heard you make these sounds. Murder wasn't really on his list of things he enjoyed. Bar fights? Yes. Murder? No. 

“You make the prettiest sounds, sweetheart. S’very hot.”  He slides two fingers inside you with little resistance, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside you. The stretch feels good, your hips moving on their own, riding Eddie's fingers. 

You're close, the build up of this moment really getting closer than you originally thought. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight, baby. Are you close?” 

You nod, afraid if you speak you’ll say something ridiculous. 

But that isn’t good enough for Eddie. “Words.” 

“V-very.” 

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because he pulls his fingers from inside you, the emptiness making you gasp, “no! No, no, no I was so close!” 

He laughs as he pushes his pants and boxers off his body. “Exactly. Want you to cum with my cock inside you.” 

You look down between your bodies and your eyes widen. He was big and you accidentally voice what you’re thinking, “fuck… not gonna fit.” 

His laugh drags your eyes back to him, his cock moving through your slick and bumping your clit. “Baby you are so wet that I have no doubt it’ll fit.”  

You don’t have time to be embarrassed about it because Eddie is pushing inside you. The size of him stretching you makes you feel like he’s going to split you in half. But you don’t care, the burn just turns you on more and more and before you know it he’s seated inside you fully. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” 

Eddie is panting, trying to keep still so he doesn’t cum before he wants to. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. A man could become obsessed with this pussy.” 

He moves right as you begin to speak, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. He feels like he’s everywhere. “W-witchcraft” 

He fucks you harder, his cock hitting your cervix. You’re definitely going to have a bruise there but it's so worth it. 

“Didn’t know you were into dark shit. S’my schtick.” 

You wrap your legs around him, orgasm building again, “more alike than you originally thought huh?” 

He wraps a tattooed hand around your throat, squeezing gently and making your head spin, “oh, angel, I knew how alike we were the second you told everyone how bad you wanted to fuck me.” 

“C-can you blame me? Knew you’d fuck me just h-how I like.” 

You clench around him making him hiss, “yeah you need someone who will take control huh?” 

The hand around your neck slides down your body till he finds your clit, circling it. 

“Oh god! Please.” 

“I can get used to you prayin’ to me.” His thrusts are losing rhythm (something he’s usually very good at keeping) and you know he’s close. “Cum baby. I need it.” 

And it’s all you need to fall over the cliff and into bliss. He follows you, coming inside you while you squeeze around him. You both moan each other's names and you sigh as you come down. 

Eddie breaks the silence first, “that was… amazing.” 

You hum in agreement as he slides out of you and curls up beside you. You take a moment before getting up and cleaning up in the bathroom. When you come back Eddie has left out an old Corroded Coffin t-shirt and some boxers. And once they’re on, you slide back into his bed, laying your head on his chest.

“We should put that poll up, huh? I’m itching to win this bet.” Eddie laughs as he says it and before you know it, you two are finding a photo the both of you like and posting it on your story with the caption, ‘which one is prettier? Honesty is the best policy.’ 

“And now… we wait.”

[hellspawnmotel]

haha okay okay, I'll share my thoughts (this got long whoops. lots to cover)

first of all, just to clear I'm not saying that I think toby is trying to make the fanbase assume wholesomeness in EVERY relationship he writes, or even every lesbian relationship. I don't think he did that for alphyne, I think that is just a genuinely wholesome relationship for the most part. they have some stuff to work out (mostly based around alphys' lying and insecurities) but what couple doesnt? I did theorize that toby might have kept that in mind while writing suselle specifically though, given the surface-level similarities to alphyne (which essentially just boil down to 'tough girl x shy girl'). considering that toby's been developing noelle and susie since at least 2015 I doubt that's where he started out with the two of them, but I think it's plausible it influenced how he chose to frame their scenes in the final product.

I haven't seen whatever post you're talking about discussing alphyne vs RG01/RG02, and to be frank I don't remember seeing a lot of art of the knights that was overly sexual as opposed to just cute. I do believe that there's some level of it that I just haven't encountered but I don't know if it was the best example to illustrate this point. it IS true though that when it comes to shipping, there's a trend of viewing relationships between two men as inherently more sexual than relationships between two women, because misogyny and I can't get into why that happens in more specificity without going on a massive tangent and I trust you guys already know all that.

so let's just assume that we all understand these basic societal ideals, and the fact they get subconsciously drilled into our heads whether we like it or not: the default way to be a woman is to be a domestic caretaker. gentle, kind, pure, level-headed, someone who does all she can to avoid emotional conflict. or any conflict for that matter- a well-adjusted woman hates conflict, to avoid it she'll become submissive or run away or try to mediate or just faint into the arms of a man about it. men are the ones who initiate or confront conflict, who "make things happen".

then what happens when there are no men around? if a relationship is just two women in love, and the relationship is healthy, then there must be no conflict. all you're left with is sweet and pure domestic bliss. that's when it's "wholesome". therefore, if a relationship between two women DOES involve conflict, it must be unhealthy because it means something is "wrong" with one or both of them. so to that end I think it's much easier to conclude that a ship between two women is "toxic" than a ship between two men. or a ship between a man and a woman, for that matter. picture your average romcom centered around a heterosexual relationship, and ask yourself, if everything was exactly the same but it was two women instead, would it get called "toxic yuri"?

FTR, I understand that the phrase "toxic yuri" rose in popularity and prominence as backlash against this exact kind of thinking- we want lesbian relationships that involve conflict, and calling it "toxic" affectionately is in direct response to those who argue that any relationship between two women that isnt all sunshine and daisies is unhealthy and abusive. and there are PLENTY of girl/girl pairings that I would actually describe as "toxic" in sincerity and that's the appeal and what makes them interesting. but I think the (over)use of the word has gotten to a point where you gotta look at yourself and ask if that's what your ship really is, or if you just want to use a popular phrase- and more importantly, if mislabeling these relationships as "toxic" when conflict gets involved is just looping around and perpetuating the problem in a different way.

(remembering this was supposed to be about suselle) UMM. in conclusion I think if more people start to acknowledge the conflict or potential for conflict in susie and noelle's romantic storyline then we're gonna see it called "toxic yuri" even though nothing about it has changed. and I think that on the other side of that, those who exclusively want cute and lovey-dovey suselle are prone to ignoring any conflict or even denying it's there. not all the time! but it happens.

[lexirosewrites]

For Slick Sunday…

So this is an idea that’s been floating around in my head for a while after reading way too many omegaverse webtoons and manhwa, but I figured now would be an appropriate time to get it out there. I have another similar idea that I may share here as well lol. Anyways…

.

Eddie is a down on his luck omega and small time dealer who left his small hometown for something bigger, maybe a music career, but people don’t really care about omega metal singers and he was never able to establish himself. And then he meets ruthless workaholic business ceo alpha Steve—who became even more than his father wanted him to be for himself—but Steve actually hates his job and his life etc. until this chance run in with Eddie caused by a bit of confusion and mistaken identity.

So, Steve has been using nonstop suppressants to keep his ruts manageable and keep from being too affected by alpha instincts, but he eventually starts having health problems caused by these suppressants being misused over a long period of time, resulting in his doctor telling him that he needs to experience a pure rut (eg. with an omega) and to stop using the suppressants in that way.

Steve is forced to regrettably comply and orders his right hand man, Tommy (who can be either another alpha or a beta depending on how the story unfolds), to find him an omega for his rut. This is where Tommy discovers Eddie and mistakenly assumes he’s a sex worker since he’s wearing kind of revealing clothing (torn jeans, a cropped shirt, leather jacket, nothing beyond what is appropriate for the metal scene but Tommy’s a sheltered idiot) and looking kind of sketchy on the street.

Meanwhile Eddie believes Tommy is there to make a drug deal, and when he’s told that it’s for Tommy’s boss and they have to go meet with him, Eddie is desperate enough for a huge windfall that he shoves the warning bells side to follow. Until he realizes what Steve wants and what they assume him to be.

Buuuuut Eddie decides to go along with it and pretend he is actually a prostitute because the pay is really good, better than he was expecting to make with his cheap mostly stem weed and knockoff drugs, and Steve is unfairly hot so he’s down for some rough rut sex with the alpha. It’s a win-win as far as he’s concerned.

Steve makes little comments here or there about how Eddie acts unlike other prostitutes he’s used in the past and Eddie is just like lol whoops. The sex is amazing though and it’s obvious that they’re super compatible, so at the end of it, Steve hands Eddie his business card and says that he would not be opposed to using Eddie’s services again for his ruts. Eddie grabs Steve’s hand unthinkingly, something Steve is entirely unfamiliar with, and messily scrawls out his own number and says he’s down to be dicked down by Steve whenever he’s in need.

And so it becomes a regularly occurring thing, with Tommy picking him up from the same spot whenever Steve needs him, and soon just because he wants him, even outside of ruts. (The ruts perhaps happen a little more frequently than normal too as Steve’s body adjusts itself and tries to flush out all the suppressant toxins.) Maybe Eddie even calls Steve up first some time to let him know he was having his heat soon if he wanted to book it, lying that he has other clients interested to make Steve pay top dollar, which Steve willingly does.

Maybe Steve even decides to keep Eddie on retainer, posting him up in a hotel suite or apartment somewhere and making him basically a sugar baby/kept omega. Since Eddie’s shitty apartment’s lease was up and he struggled to make ends meet before Steve, he readily accepts. And not just because of the growing feelings he refuses to admit he’s beginning to harbor, knowing nothing good will ever come of it.

And Tommy. Tommy who maybe also harbors feelings for Steve, who is annoyed when Steve starts dipping from work more and more to spend more time with Eddie, Tommy who hates Eddie with a passion and never fails to remind Eddie exactly what he is; nothing more than a whore who should know his place. Who should know that every gift, every favor, every act of kindness that Steve shows Eddie means nothing and not to mistake it as anything else.

And Eddie knows. He knows that someone like Steve could never truly want someone like him. Knows that, while he hadn’t originally been a prostitute, he basically turned himself into one for Steve. Knows that Steve deserves better than him.

Except maybe Steve isn’t stupid to his own feelings. Maybe he’s started to realize that he was falling for Eddie too, maybe even started to think their arrangement could mean something more.

Until Tommy discovers that Eddie wasn’t actually a prostitute, threatens Eddie with revealing the truth to Steve, making Eddie think Steve will be disgusted and angry and kick him out, and so Eddie leaves. Tells Tommy he can tell Steve whatever and just…leaves. He takes the money Tommy offers him but leaves behind the gifts Steve got him, including a beloved red and black guitar.

Blah blah blah and yadda yadda ya, Steve is heartbroken but eventually discovers the truth, fires Tommy, and seeks out Eddie to set things right. To make Eddie well and truly his, if Eddie still wants him like that.

To add a little spice, it could be that maybe it was discovered that Eddie was pregnant and that’s why Tommy does all this.

.

While I may one day write something for this, the idea is also up for grabs if anyone else wants to write it or something inspired by it! Just let us know if you do!

oh Eddie😭

[tsukilunatic]

✦perv!xikers hcs...

xikers ot10 x fem!reader ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

w. nsfw content! mdni! + reader is another member's girlfriend! mentions of drinking, reader is drunk in one of sumin and seeun's scenarios. somnophilia. reader calls hyunwoo "daddy" whoops. lots of voyeurism. dacryphilia. a lot of male masturbation soooo. some of these are a little iffy on consent, so the particularly iffy ones are marked with (dubcon!). they're all pervs in this ok, there's your warning. also not proofread becoz ofc it isn't. // wc. 5.3k (nobody look at me)

a/n: happy roady anniversary! ...yall asked for this. there's a shout out to @tmrwsuns's fic "strawberry shortcake" coz i just read it and felt like putting in a little nod to it heh (it's so good, go read it!!!) ummmmmm this is pure filth. you have been warned. also! special thanks to @lijeons for helping me come up with ideas<333

nsfw content below the cut! ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

⏾ minjae

✦ perv!minjae who knows your boyfriend’s password and airdrops your nudes to his phone...

not on purpose, of course! he asked junmin to send videos from practice and junmin said he would... but then never sent the videos. naturally, minjae decides to take matters into his own hands. honestly, if junmin had just sent him the photos like he said he would, minjae wouldn't have to dig around in his best friend's photos app like a creep, now would he? it's not his fault that junmin saves all of the photos you send him. plus, he accidentally saw junmin's nudes before he found yours so... he feels less bad about keeping your nudes (because he really didn't need to see... all that).

✦ perv!minjae who asks for your help for your boyfriend's birthday...

it's junmin's birthday, and who better to ask for embarrassing photos than you, junmin's girlfriend? minjae has built a rapport with you, so he isn't surprised when you agree to meet with himーin secret!ーto go through some pictures for junmin's birthday post. he's not actually surprised when he pretends to realize "oh, there's only one desk chair!" and he's also not surprised when you take his offer to sit at the desk, because he's a gentleman; he wouldn't make you stand around like that! he chooses to hover behind you instead, arms reaching around you to work the computer. and minjae isn't surprised when you shudder at the sound of his voice so closeーtoo closeーto your ear. he isn't surprised when you squirm at the feeling of his breath on your neck and fidget with the necklace resting on your exposed chest; the chest that your low-cut top gives him the perfect view of. but eventually, minjae gets tired of standing. he says "sorry, could we switch places? i can't see the screen, i forgot my contacts today," or whatever excuse he can come up with on the spot. but again, he's a gentleman, he wouldn't make you stand! so he offers to let you sit on his lap, and minjae is pleasantly surprised when you accept. and sure, maybe you're only here because it's junmin's birthday. and yeah, maybe you're completely oblivious to the way minjae fights the urge not to grab your hips and grind you down onto him. but something in him says that you wouldn't be here if he were someone else. that you're sitting because it's his lap. you wouldn't lean into sumin's touch like this. or junghoon's, or yujun's. you're okay with this because deep down, you feel something for him too. he knows it.

⏾ junmin

✦ perv!junmin who can’t handle it when you cry...

junmin doesn't know whose dumbass idea it was to choose the notebook for group movie night (though he thinks it was probably junghoon), but nevertheless, there you all were. to be frank, even as the credits are rolling, junmin barely knows what the movie was about. because how the hell was he supposed to focus on some cheesy romance movie when you decided to sit right across from him? you kept stealing his attention for the entire 2 hours he was sat there, cuddled up to yujun in your skimpy little strawberry shortcake pajamas. junmin hopes the others didn't notice him staring. but more than anything, he hopes you didn't notice how he sank lower into the couch at the sight of your eyes going all glassy. how he had to take a sip of water and look away when tears started streaming down your face. he knows it's weird. but something about the way your lashes fluttered and clumped together with tears or the way you gasped and pouted as you sniffled at the sappy movie scene had his head spinning. he's never reacted this way before. he's never had to put a pillow over his lap to hide the tent in his sweatpants because he saw a pretty girl cry. he doesn't know what to make of it. he hopes it was just a one time thing, that the ache in his pants and the tears on your face aren't related. but either way, he hopes no one chooses any more sad movies for movie night. at least not when you're invited.

✦ perv!junmin who moans about you in his sleep...

obviously not on purpose. if he had known he was going to be caught by your boyfriend of all people, junmin would've drank a gallon of coffee to stay awake on the flight back home. he's mortified. luckily, yujun seems oblivious that he was moaning about you (or that he was really moaning at all), but he's still pretty mortified about the whole situation. because what kind of guy has a wet dream about his friend's girlfriend while sitting next to said friend in an airplane? junmin thinks he should've jumped off the plane when he had the chance (which is saying a lot for a guy who cried while bungee jumping). but yujun didn't realize junmin was moaning, he just said "hyung, you were talking in your sleep." so junmin thinks he's in the clear as long as he never sleeps in front of jung yujun ever again. plus, it's not like he has wet dreams often, so he thinks the chances of being caught with his metaphorical pants down are low enough, right? wrong. because two weeks later, junmin gets caught moaning about you by none other than his roommate, junghoon. technically, it's junmin's fault for scrolling through your instagram right before bed, but he didn't think that looking at your beach photos was going to directly translate to a dream about fucking you on a beach. he apologizes to junghoon for "being loud," but the look on junghoon's face says he heard enough to tell who junmin was fantasizing about. thankfully, he promises not to tell yujun. but junmin thinks junghoon might tell hyunwoo. and that hyunwoo might tell sumin. and that sumin might tell jinsik. and so on and so forth until yujun eventually finds out about how much of a creep his hyung is. ...maybe junmin should look into getting his own place.

⏾ sumin

✦ perv!sumin who gets close with your boyfriend so the three of you can go out together...

because he loves hanging out with his friends! ーand because he likes seeing how messy the two of you are when you're drunk. it's not like he isn't drunk too, but the image of you and jinsik getting a little too handsy while dancing sticks with him long after he's sobered up. seeing you with your head thrown back and a smile on your face while jinsik covers your throat in messy, drunken kisses, with your hand trailing down the front of his pants... it's enough to make sumin reschedule all of his other plans just to keep going out with you two.

✦ perv!sumin who's constantly taking photos of you...

taking photos is one of sumin's favorite pastimes. he likes to collect all different kinds of secondhand digital cameras, and what better way to test them out than to take pictures of his favorite muse? he sorts and edits all the photos himself, and he thinks that he's built up a pretty solid portfolio. he would never show it to anyone, of course. he likes that it's a secret between you and him. plus, the photos are so intimate... he'd hate for someone to see them. sumin likes to print out his favorite photos. he thinks it's nice to have a physical copy of you looking your best. though, he thinks you always look beautiful. his favorite photo is of you in jinsik's bed, still asleep despite the sunlight coming in through the window. you're wearing jinsik's shirt, and it's ridden up, exposing your tummy just the slightest. underneath, you're wearing a pair of hello kitty underwear. sumin thinks they're adorable. and he's got other favorites, a photo of you from behind, pulling your shirt off over your head. or a picture of you and jinsik in the living room early in the morning, eating breakfast and giggling at each other. there's only one problem. there isn't a single photo of you looking at the camera. and sumin knows that it's better this way, that you shouldn't know about his little hobby. he's got a photo of you and jinsik. one he doesn't look at often, but thinks about pretty frequently. it's dark, and the two of you are in jinsik's bed. you're leant over him, tongue licking up his hard cock. the photo doesn't show jinsik's face, but it shows yours. sumin thinks he could kill just to have a photo of you looking up at him like that.

⏾ jinsik

✦ perv!jinsik who sneaks into your room at night to touch you while you're sleeping...

more specifically, your boyfriend's room. he can't even plead innocent for this, because it's not like he shares a room with yechan or has any reason to go into his friend's room so late at night. sure, maybe the first time he did it he didn't know you were sleeping over and just came in to ask if yechan had a spare charger or something; but every time after that? ...guilty. to be fair though, can you blame him? seeing you fast asleep with your cheeks all flushed, wearing yechan's shirtーand nothing elseーto cover yourself up; fresh hickeys and bruises littered all along your skin, lips still swollen from all of your boyfriend's kisses. he knows it's wrong but he can't stop himself the first time he reaches out to touch you. to see if your skin is just as soft as he's always imagined it to be. to rut into your hand until you stir just enough to scare him away. he always leaves before you or yechan wake up; but sometimes he wonders what would happen if you caught him...

✦ perv!jinsik who steals your perfume to spray on his pillows...

it was the first thing jinsik really noticed about you. the intoxicating scent of your perfume that made his mind go a little fuzzy whenever you got a little too close to him. by now, he'd recognize it as yours from a mile away, and he can't help but associate the smell with all the dirty thoughts of you he has locked away in the back of his brain. when he can't sleep at night he imagines your perfume suffocating him as you kiss his neck; breathing it in as you stroke his cock torturously slow. naturally, when yechan went around panicking, asking his favorite hyungs what to get you for your birthday, jinsik suggested he get you a brand new bottle of your favorite perfume. he even offered to go with yechan to go buy it! and later that night, while yechan's in the shower, jinsik unboxes the perfume. he sprays the tiniest bit on his pillow. just to make sure it's the right one. and then he sprays more on a few other pillows. and then he puts it back. makes sure it looks untouched and brand new, even doing his best to fix the pretty little bow wrapped around the box. even later that night, when he knows no one else is awake, he lets the scent take over his senses. he loses himself in the thought of you. jinsik has accepted that this is the closest he'll ever get to you, so he even though he knows it's wrong, he lets himself rut into his sheets at the thought of you, the smell of you.

⏾ hyunwoo

✦ perv!hyunwoo who steals your panties out of the laundry…

again, not on purpose, of course! you can imagine how surprised he was when he was folding his laundry and found your underwear tucked between a few shirts of his. and being the gentleman he is, he returned them to hunter as soon as he found them (a mortifying experience for both of them, really). ーbut the idea sticks with him. the idea that you slept over and left your panties in their washing machine. he wonders if you went home without any panties on, or if you’ve got your own little corner in hunter's closet. ...then hyunwoo wonders why you decided to put your underwear in their washing machine in the first place. did hunter manage to get you that wet? to the point where you had no choice but to toss your underwear into a washing machine that 10 horny guys use? then hyunwoo wonders if he could make you that wet. if you’d stay over as often as you do if he was your boyfriend instead of hunter. it’s thoughts like these that lead him to the laundry room one afternoon. he knows you slept over because he watched hunter walk you to the door in the morning, and based on the way your legs wobbled he’s sure you two were up to nothing good the night before. now... to clarify, he’s not digging through the laundry for your clothes; no, if anybody asks he’s just… looking for a missing sock. as one does. totally normal, nothing pervy to see here... —of course, he finds something much better. right under hunter's shirt he finds your pretty little lace panties, and before he realizes what he’s done, he’s already tucked them into his pocket. for later. hyunwoo isn't quite sure why he decides to keep them, but if hunter didn’t notice the first time, surely he won’t notice this time, right?

✦ perv!hyunwoo who thinks he could fuck you better than your boyfriend could...

hyunwoo didn't mean to overhear you and hunter together. in fact, the two of you were doing an excellent job of staying quiet. you're in hunter's bed, in the bunk above hyunwoo, and it's late. hyunwoo doesn't usually wake up in the middle of the night like this, so he wonders why he did tonight. he can't make out specifics, but he can hear the two of you whispering and moving around. then he hears you whine that it's too big. that sticks with hyunwoo. it's not rare for you to sleep over at their place, but you usually leave before most of them wake up. the one time hyunwoo did wake up before you left, he tried to not make it obvious that he was staring as he watched you waddle to the front door, leaning on hunter for support. ...hyunwoo now understands why you had such a hard time walking the morning after you stayed over. clearly, hunter is doing something right, since you've been together for so long. but hyunwoo can't help but think that he could fuck you better. he wouldn't stretch you out and make you leave like hunter does. hyunwoo wouldn't make you hurt like that. hunter once drunkenly said he spent an hour prepping youーof course he didn't say whyーbut hyunwoo thinks he could give you what you want. that his cock would fit you perfectly. because sometimes, just sometimes, he thinks you were made for each other.

⏾ junghoon

✦ perv!junghoon who listens in when your boyfriend is fucking you...

clearly hyunwoo didn't realize junghoon was home when he invited you over, but junghoon isn't about to announce his presence now. he knows the polite thing to do is to put on a pair of noise-canceling headphones or take a nap even, but how the hell is he supposed to sleep when he can hear the two of you giggling in the next room over? whatever hyunwoo is saying to you is muffled, and that's okay, junghoon doesn't give a shit about his friend's dirty talk anywayーbut the sounds you're making? junghoon thinks he would pass out if he heard them for himself instead of through the wall. and he knows it's unreasonable to be jealous of hyunwoo, it's not like junghoon couldn't make a girl scream if he tried. but god, what he wouldn't do to be the one making you make those sounds. to at least be in the room to hear your little whines and moans. he loses his mind a little when he makes out the words "please, daddy..." falling from your mouth. he's sure that he's lost his mind when he convinces himself you're saying it to him, calling to him like you somehow know he's just on the other side of the wall, tugging on his cock with a death grip, trying to cum at the same time as you.

✦ perv!junghoon who calls you all the time...

because you're his friend! and he loves catching up with you. now, does your boyfriend hyunwoo know about how often you and junghoon talk on the phone? you assume he does, what with the boys living together and all. but junghoon hasn't told him. and he's not planning on doing so anytime soon. because, yeah, junghoon loves catching up with you and hearing about your day and all, but ...that's not why he's calling. he likes listening to you. hearing the tired little sighs you make as you're settling into your bed. or the way your speech slows, just a little, as you get sleepy. junghoon likes to imagine he's there with you. curled up in your bed, spooning you and leaving kisses down your neck while you talk about your day. he imagines the little sighs you make are from his touch, your reaction to his hands ghosting over your body. slipping underneath your pajamas to drift over your skin. he likes to think you'd let him fuck you like that. so junghoon listens to you talk about your day. but he's thinking about what kind of panties you're wearing. how easy it would be to pull them aside and slip his fingers into you. the thought has him palming himself over his sweatpants, all too grateful you're not video calling him (though, he wouldn't mind seeing you in your pajamas). he hopes you don't catch on to the way his breathing becomes labored, the way he has a harder time replying to you. he hopes you're too busy complaining about your coworkers to notice the quietest sound he makes as he cums in his pants, cursing himself for the mess.

⏾ seeun

✦ perv!seeun who stays up late to see you in your pajamas...

seeun loves the summertime. not because he can go to the beach, and definitely not because going outside feels like walking into a lit stovetop. but because you're less busy in the summer. so when junghoon also isn't busy, he tends to invite you over pretty often. just like that, summer becomes seeun's favorite season because of you. seeun likes to play this little game with you. whenever you're over, he turns the ac in the apartment down. letting the apartment get warmer, and warmer, until it's a little unbearable. and it bothers everyone in the house, including seeun, but he doesn't mind all that much. not when he gets to see you prance around in increasingly thin and revealing clothes. he especially likes summer nights. whenever you stay over, you and junghoon tend to stay up late doing one thing or another. often times, you'll both leave junghoon's room in the middle of the night to go eat ice cream in the living room. it's cute. naturally, seeun makes it a habit to start haunting the living room in the summer. to continuously find one reason or another to stay there instead of going to his room, even when it gets late. he's not usually so patient, but it's worth it when he gets to see you and junghoon sneak into the living room, thinking everyone else has gone off to their rooms already. because you wear what you're comfortable in, and whatever's cool enough to wear, and to you, that's junghoon's tank top and a pair of thin sleep shorts. frankly, seeun is a little offended at how nonchalantly junghoon greets him. endlessly confused that his hyung is okay with letting seeun see his girlfriend in an outfit like that. seeun appreciates how naive you and junghoon both are though, especially when you sit on the couch across from him and he can tell that you're not wearing a bra under that tank top. but if you were seeun's girlfriend, he wouldn't let the members see you in anything other than clothes modest enough for a church, let alone your pajamas. (frankly, if seeun was your boyfriend he'd be doing something way more... fun than eat ice cream with you, but... that's neither here nor there.)

✦ perv!seeun who doesn't mind pretending to be your boyfriend... (dubcon!)

he doesn't know if it's the music pounding in his ears, or the alcohol in his veinsーor knowing that your boyfriend is in the bathroom puking his guts outーbut seeun decides to make a move on you. he sidles up to you on the dance floor and manages to pull you aside, off to a hallway where no one will see the two of you together. he knows you're drunk, and he knows he's taking advantage of you, but he's wanted this for so long. plus, he only wanted to feel you up a little, he wasn't expecting you to reciprocate. but you do, and seeun can't pull away as your lips collide, messy and needy, hands tugging at each other's clothes. he also can't find it in himself to correct you when you whine and call him junghoon, or to ask if it's okay when he shoves his hand in your pants. so he fucks you in that hallway, the guilt not enough to stave off how turned on he is, especially not when you're being just as needy for him as he's always imagined you to be. he doesn't care that you're moaning for someone else (though, he thinks it would bother him a lot more if he were sober), because he's got his cock in you, and it's better than anything he's ever imagined. he takes a billion photos and videos too. they're all shaky, and the keychain on his phone keeps swinging in front of the camera with every thrust, but he documents as much of it as he can because he doesn't know if he'll ever get a chance to do this again. he even makes sure to take a picture of his cum dripping out of your cunt when it's all over. and he cleans you up like the gentleman he is, and brings you back to the car like nothing happened, feigning innocent when you finally recognize him for who he is. he just hopes he's gotten all your lipstick off his lips by the time everyone else meets you back at the car...

⏾ yujun

✦ perv!yujun who uses your boyfriend against you...

when yujun heard that his best friend got a girlfriend... he didn't expect it to last very long. he expected the two of you to go out on a couple of dates at most. he thought he'd eventually come home to find seeun wallowing on the couch because you dumped his ass, because (no offense! but—) it's happened to seeun more times than yujun can keep track of. the last thing yujun expected, however, was a series of semi-delirious texts and photos from seeun some random night. texts from seeun bragging about how hot you are, how hard you came, etc. (mostly incoherent to yujun, really), attached to blurry, shitty, pictures of you with your lips around his cock. a shaky video of your tits bobbing as seeun fucks into you, messy and whiny as ever. a few clearer photos of you covered in his cum. ...yujun had never gotten so hard, so fast. yujun knows seeun. knows that if he says "no way you did that, i don't believe you," seeun will do whatever it takes to prove himself. that includes sending video proof of your escapades to his best friend just to prove "yeah, i did that!" and yujun knows he's a creep for acting innocent about it. pretending he doesn't watch the videos seeun sends him. but he also thinks seeun's a dumbass for sending them in the first place. so really, who’s to say yujun's to blame here?

✦ perv!yujun who convinces you it's okay to sleep in the same bed as him... (dubcon!)

yujun and seeun are best friends. they literally grew up together. so it shouldn't be a big deal if you sleep in yujun's bed, right? you had no reason to turn him down when he invited you over to watch a movie, what with seeun out of town visiting his family and all. so what's the harm in sleeping in his bed too? it's better than sleeping on the couch, and yujun wouldn't dream of making you go home alone so late at night. if it was anyone else, you might've been a little suspicious, but this is little baby yujun we're talking about. he wouldn't try anything. unbeknownst to you, yujun has ulterior motives. he didn't think it would be so easy to get you in his bed. thinks maybe you want it as much as he does. so he tests the waters, laying a hand on your waist, pretending he's half-asleep and cuddling up to you for warmth—and you let him. so he keeps going, getting closer, tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder. he'd slide his hand into the waistband of your shorts, ever so gently teasing you over your panties. whining at how easy it is to get you wet for him. he wouldn't fuck you though. wouldn't want to ruin you for his best friend. but he'd rut against your ass, whispering little things here and there into your ear. murmuring, "it's okay if you like it" because "seeun would be okay with it," or "just pretend i'm him. let go for me."

⏾ hunter

✦ perv!hunter who always thinks of you when he watches porn...

hunter prides himself on living a very healthy life. he eats well, he works out, he gets enough sleep, and he jerks off decently often (because he thinks that's self care too!). and sure, he watches porn, but recently... it's been ruining his life a little. there's a video he keeps coming back to, the link saved in a locked note in his phone. it's short, maybe a few minutes long, and kind of hard to see. it's just a simple shot of a girl getting fucked from behind, in the guy's pov, with no real details that might give away either person's identity. but hunter swears it's you; and he thinks it's recent. the more we watches it, the more he starts to think that maybe the little whines and moans in the video came from your mouth. that maybe the hand gripping your ass in the video is sumin's. that it's his hyung's cock you're sliding back on. that the sheets your cum is dripping onto are washed in the same machine as his. the thought makes hunter's head spin. and he doesn't want to think of you like that, you're his favorite hyung's girlfriend, and more importantly, you're a good friend! but... he can't deny that imagining you're the girl in the porn he watches, that convincing himself that the slutty little whines he hears are coming from your mouth, make him harder—and make him cum faster—than any other porn he's seen in his life.

✦ perv!hunter who always offers to spot you at the gym...

they weren't really supposed to share the company gym. it was mostly for the members and their sunbaenims to use without worrying about being seen. but since you got an internship at the company, sumin has been adamant on going to the gym with you. which is why hunter is always surprised when he catches you in the gym alone late at night. you always have a good reason, something about how sumin had to leave early, or that he's coming later... but hunter doesn't pay much attention to your words. he can't. not when you're dressed the way you are and when he can see the way your sweat drips down your neck and into the valley of your chest. he acts like a gentleman, the way he always offers to spot you. to put aside his own routine to help you keep track of yours. he's good at pretending he’s not staring, and that he doesn’t feel guilty about it. pretending he's not a little anxious about what would happen if sumin came in to find him drooling over his girlfriend. and he tries, he tries so hard, to push the thoughts of you away. hunter tries to be a good guy and not think about the way your pants strain against your ass as you move. the way your breathing gets heavy and the noises you make as you do your reps. in the end, he has to excuse himself as sumin comes in, trying to hide the slight tent in his pants as he shuffles off because he "forgot he had somewhere to be" (aka, he's running to the nearest bathroom to take a deep breath and call for a ride home).

⏾ yechan

✦ perv!yechan who can't even be in the same room as you...

yechan doesn't think of himself as an overly horny guy. he thinks he's pretty normal, sex-drive wise. but when he's around you? he can't control himself. maybe it's the way you dress, or the way you carry yourself, or the way you smile at him. he knows you're just being polite most of the time, but god it never fails to make him squirm in his seat. and you and minjae aren't obnoxious about pda, quite the opposite actually, but something about the way you whisper to each other and share little smiles when you think no one else is looking makes yechan's stomach churn. he's not jealous, in fact, minjae has become way more chill since he met you, and everyoneーincluding yechanーis grateful for it. but there's something about you that yechan yearns for. he can't help but stare at your legs when you wear shorts. wondering how soft your skin is, and how it would feel to have them locked around his waist as he fucks you. he loves your lips, the way you run your tongue over them before talking, or bite your bottom lip when you're thinking. yechan wonders how they'd feel kissing his skin, or wrapped around the tip of his cock. he wonders how you and minjae are together. if his hyung eats you out until you cry. if he gets on his knees for you like yechan wants to. it's thoughts like these that bombard his brain whenever he sees you. to the point where he has a hard time being in the same room as you without getting hard. but yechan isn't a perv! he's just... obsessed with you… just a little bit...

✦ perv!yechan who has the most obvious crush on you...

okay, maybe, his eye-fucking was more obvious than he realized. yechan actually didn't realize he was eye-fucking you at all most of the time. until one night at dinner when seeun teases him about his crush on you... in front of minjae. naturally, when minjae pulls yechan aside after dinner he's terrified. it's not like minjae would be chill about yechan having a thing for his girlfriend. so you can imagine how hard it is for yechan to hear his hyung tell him to back off. ...but later, watching from the closet as minjae teases your entrance with his cock, both of you blissfully unaware of the eyes on you: yechan doesn't feel guilty. he can't bring himself to take his eyes off you. he's obsessed with the scene. the way you moan, the way you look, the way you make him feel. he can't stop now.

a/n: thank u for reading until the end!! ik it's long but... i couldn't help myself ok? lmk which part u liked most!!! likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! my inbox is always open<3

✦back to... nav page. mlist. ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

[keysnocar]

we repost just so i can move his etching

@ghotstx HERE im sorry for clickbaiting you here :)

Also I can’t make this up, I literally mixed up ur username w another person so..welcome.? Haha

@ghostbny

Anyway, I'm FINALLY getting time to add to my TF Prime Numbers AU, starting with a little Orion ref/doodle sheet. This mostly helps me get to know what kind of character I'd like this version of him to be. (and ngl the plot has been whooping me idk what's happening or why sometimes :() )

This is Orion! Or, as the other bots know him,"37." (I’ll explain it later gng)

Here, he’s been with the autobots for around four vorns, (since he was just over 13 vorns old.) 

His Weapon isn't the familiar star saber or Zeta Prime's Axe. This choice involves his 'childhood', as does his design. I kept his lovable boxyness (well i love it) but made him less detailed, with less armor in general- though specifically around the joints. This is mostly because I wanted him to be a smaller bot, with an emphasis on his agility and flexibility, rather than being a heavy hitter. (at least in his youth.)

The Matrix also has a bit of change in its functionality, use, and importance to the plot.

Both of which I'll expand on in a separate post.

DON'T BE MISTAKEN by my choices in drawing him, he's never without the face mask unless alone.

-------------------------------------------------

The little doodles I have of him are more so to solidify his personality while he's this age range, but this is dependent on what’s going on around him as well. His age has proven to complicate some of my plot, but since he’d bonded with the Matrix at 13, it made sense to me that he’d been gradually reformatted in that short span of time between that and joining the autobots by the Matrix . So he appears much older. (I’ll explain it later gang Ik it’s weird but its important hshgjfhd)

Since taking up residence in the main Autobot Outpost on Cybertron, Orion, or "37" works mostly in solo reconnaissance, scouting territories, or pathfinding for small teams on other kinds of missions. When on base. He focuses on compiling the small amount of data the Autobot faction has managed to gather or receive on any prominent threats.

He ‘moved in’ with the Autobots around an earth year after the ‘ Fall of Gold.’ (as many bots had not-so-fondly begun calling it.) This event being the night that Decepticon forces raided, and then destroyed the large informational hubs of Iacon. This included but was not limited to the Senate Hall, Multiple high class Universities, and the Records tower. To many this marked the true beginning of the war- as the attack and largely successful destruction of such a profound city solidified the danger of the rapidly growing Decepticon movement.  After Iacon fell, the other strongholds of the planet have been slow, but surely following.

In his free time, he’s always reading, thinking, filing, sorting, polishing, solving- 'doing' something. there isn't a spare second he's not busying his mind, or if he can't at least manage that, his servos. 

Orion is not social in the SLIGHTEST with new bots. (this being all of his Autobot peers)  It 100% creeps everyone else out when he attempts to be. (he's got these large, piercing, non-emotive optics that seem to stare past and yet into anyone who's got his attention- and WOW is it an alarming, unreadable, gaze to be caught in if you don't know him well.)

The rare moment or two he does find himself in a conversation about something other than strategy or information he'd gathered- others find his conversation.. lacking at most. It's not that he isn't interested, not at all. It's more so that any personal information he dares to give away may end up doing more harm to his goals among the autobots than good. It sure is a lot easier to keep your origins to yourself, if everyone's too intimidated or put off to speak with you.

It's mostly because of this, that he prefers quietly watching and taking things in, over putting himself into a conversation. It's simply how he's accustomed to and has been taught how to function. Observing and compiling, interpreting and mimicking.

(That being said he is still a ‘teenager’ so it sort of sucks trying to keep himself isolated.)

His more reclusive behavior tends to keep other bots from bothering him. His quietly observant posture and constantly active tendencies often leave the others assuming he's got no time for- or interest in talking.

 He sees all of this as a good thing, the first few vorns of living with the bots, as he’s committed to putting all of his focus on figuring out this weird matrix thing. More importantly, keeping the fact that it forced its way onto his spark and won’t come off-  a secret. (Not to mention he can’t afford to be distracted by bots he doesn’t entirely trust.)

But considering Commander Magnus and Medical Officer Ratchet have already been looking at him as if trying to remember something they’d once known- he might not be able to make that last.

…let's hope no one puts the pieces together on where he came from before he can figure out how to explain it.

Admittedly, this style has a different feel than the ones I'm accustomed to creating in- and trying to keep the characters to a consistent level of both simplistic and shapey is already proving to be a fun challenge. I’ve been working on this idea for a while, and I have a lot of other little details or broad stories to fill in. PLEASE I can talk and brainstorm about this all day. I've already got a google doc and MAD plotholes.

(Vorn = 83ish earth years, which I use interchangeably with an earth year for easier understanding, because of the long lifespans.)

[cy6err]

Whoops — W.S.

Pairings: Walker Scobell x Actress!Reader

Warnings: kissing ? (On the cheek)

Summary: Your boyfriend Walker made a mistake whilst you were on live…

A/N: I kind of don’t like this one 🥸 but this is a part 2 of first look! (check that one out first if you want, but it’s not required to.) also, this is awfully short and I apologise for it 🙏🏻

. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ . .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ . .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

It had been a few months since you and Walker have been together for, but you two kept it on the down low. The people who knew were Aryan and Leah (of course), and they too kept it a secret. The only reason was because you and Walker didn’t want to try and start a whole bunch of chaos within the fandom about your guys’ relationship.

Knowing how the fans are, you both decided to not reveal anything between you two— Other than the light flirting and glances you give each other during small videos uploaded by your friends. It was nice having him as your boyfriend… texting and calling each other every day, unless he’s busy with work or school obviously.

He would also call you during his live streams with Brady Noon— but you stayed in mute because you didn’t want others to hear you talking, you just wanted to be in each other’s presence.

Due to him being busy with work, you barely had time to call or even text him anymore. Yes, he did text you, but they were mostly dry responses. However, he made sure to put an emoji at the end of them so you knew he wasn���t being dry on purpose.

The calls were brief as well, only getting around 10-15 minutes of talking before the, “I’m being called to set and retouch my makeup, I’ll call you later.” Only to find yourself waiting until the moment you fall asleep with no call from him.

He would send an apology text and tell you how much he still cared about you to ease your overthinking. You understood that he was gonna be busy a lot more than usual now that he was filming for PJO season 2.

Sure, keeping the relationship a secret wasn’t all that bad, but it was somewhat hard to take pictures together without making anything obvious (Leah was so kind enough to help you two); So, you posted the ones you found most ‘friendly’ looking.

It had been a normal Saturday when you were home, laying in your bed and rotting in your room. You didn’t need to film until the next month or so, giving you some time to relax after filming for 2 and a half months straight. Your mom was out for the day doing some errands, leaving you home alone for some time.

Walker was also busy today, needing to film for season 2, so he was going to be very distant with you until further notice— which you hated. After contemplating on what to do, you decide to go live for a bit on Instagram and interact with a few fans.

You got up from your bed and set your phone up on your desk next to your window, making sure there was enough light to show yourself clearly. You tap the ‘live’ button and waited a bit for some people to join (which was really quick). You had over 1,009 viewers already and you were pretty shocked at how many people joined the live in under two minutes.

“Hi guys! How are you all doing today?” You greet, smiling widely as you laugh at the flooding comments. Each one being: “are you and Walker dating?” “Where’s Walker?” “Do you and Walker have a thing going on??”

Shaking your head, you deny the comments. “No, we’re just close friends. And he’s doing well, just busy at the moment.” You sat there as you played with a few objects sitting on your desk, answering other questions from them.

You were getting really engrossed with the conversation that you didn’t even realise your mom calling your name until you heard your bedroom door open. “Y/n, you in here?” She asked, peeking her head in your room.

“Oh, hey mom. Sorry, I didn’t hear you because I’m live right now.” You give an apologetic smile, “did you need something?”

Your mom waved to the camera as the comments spammed “hi mrs. L/n!!”

“Just checking up on you, what do you want for dinner?” Your mom asked, moving a strand of hair out of your face.

“Uhh, I’m not sure. Surprise me?”

“Sure,” she laughs, “I’ll call you down in a bit. I invited some friends over and they might spend the night, clean your room please.”

“Okay, are they gonna sleep in here?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Mhm! I’ll let you know when food’s ready.” Your mom then left the room leaving you back to your live.

You turn back to your camera and sigh, “well, unexpected guests I guess… and my room is not that messy!”

“Yeah it is.” A familiar voice said from behind, your head snapping toward the direction. Your eyes lit up with joy when you saw your boyfriend leaning against your doorframe, making you jump up from your seat to hug him.

“Walker! I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” You exclaim, embracing him tightly to which he returned with a chuckle.

“Yeah, got some time off for a bit and decided to surprise you. I thought it was obvious when your mom said she was inviting friends over?” Walker said, looking at you with wonder.

“I thought she meant the neighbourhood friends and their children.” You shrug, pulling away but not quite letting go of him.

It was a moment of silence when he finally spoke up in a soft, sweet tone. “I missed you.”

You felt your face get warm and your smile grew, “I missed you too.”

With that, he leaned in for a quick a quick kiss, making you mirror the action until you stopped and looked away, making him kiss your cheek instead. He looked at you confused and a little disappointed, “Why’d you do that?”

“Walker, I’m live. I completely forgot.” You quickly run to your phone, grabbing it as Walker immediately became red from embarrassment. The chat was filled with spamming: “OMG” “THEY’RE DATING!!” “WALKER X Y/N CONFIRMEDD” “MY SHIP HAS SAILED.”

“Im so so sorry, oh my god.” Walker groaned, throwing himself onto the bed as you laugh lightly. “It’s okay, Walker. I guess it’s one way of telling the fandom about our relationship.”

He buried his face into the pillows and ignored you, despite his big smile on his face. You quickly said your goodbyes to the fans and ended the live, joining him in the bed. “We were gonna tell them eventually, right?”

Walker took a peek at you and nods, “yeah. I guess so, I just hope it doesn’t ruin anything.”

You lie down and mess with his curls a bit, “Just ignore them. Being with you is all that matters, you’re my ray of sunshine”

He laughed at your comment, “you’re so corny.” Laughing with him, you got closer until your mom came in the room.

“Foods ready— don’t get too close to each other now.” She says, giving a pointed look making you roll your eyes playfully as she left the room.

“Come on, let’s go eat. Im starving.” You pull at his arm and drag him out of the bed, making him get up.

“Okay, okay!” He grins, kissing your cheek and following you downstairs to eat dinner.

—

(He surprised you with flowers 🤍)

—

HII IM SO SORRY IT WAS SHORT 😔 BUT NONETHELESS, I HOPE YOU LIKED IT :)) it was lowk hard to finish this. feel free to send requests !!

Tag list: @defnot-bri

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

⚔ ARES: God of War and Violence 🐗

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, it’s either during or after a victorious battle. If it’s during a battle, like Capture the Flag, it’s when your blood is pumping and you’re on adrenaline high. You could be losing or winning, but you hit that point of state where you’re just so in the zone before you realize you’re covered in red. You decimate the other team, striking fear in their hearts as they see you running over their teammates, your weapon swinging like it’s your own limb. Everyone looks above your head as they see the floating red boar above your head and then you hear a roar of cheer from your now half–siblings. They let out whoops, howls, and cheers, slapping you on the back and some wrestling you if you’re still battle high, before they lift you up and carry you around. 

When you’re shown the cabin, you’re immediately nerved by the boar head posted above the door, its eyes following you…but you can’t focus on that because you’re immediately told and made to remember where the live mines are around the entrance. They didn’t clarify if they were actual mines or alternative mines…they said it was classified information and you didn’t have the clearance level yet. Either which you didn’t want to find out the hard way.

If the Hephaestus cabin is the forge, you bet you can imagine that the Ares cabin is their armoury. It's not on the scale as theirs, but its pretty close. Weapons galore. It's a weapon maniacs dream. You have equipment here to upkeep and maintain weapons and if you pick out a weapon that you're not sure how to maintain? You have siblings jumping up the chance to show you. 

You wanna try and wield different weapons? Go on ahead! Every Ares’ member has their own mini armoury and collection of weapons. 

Y'know how siblings like to push each other and get into play fights? Yeah, the Ares cabin is like that constantly. It goes from rough housing to actual sparring. If you're not a big fan of participating in it, you're going to learn how to redirect people's movements. Don't worry about it getting the heat off you, as long its not entirely personal, you have another Ares’ sibling ready to switch with you. 

You also begin to take on bets because with the amount of rough-housing and sparring, it's just too good of an opportunity. The currency ranges from actual dollars, drachmas, candy bars, or what have you. All currency is accepted.  

People often like talking with their fists, but it's mostly getting rid of the pent up emotions when you guys do some talk to talk. Got to be fair you know.

If you're not particularly looking for a fight, don't worry about it. While it is true, you're a war god child, you're also good at de-escalating. After all, there's a reason in the book, "The Art of War", Sun Tzu says "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting".

Blood was roaring in your ears with eyes red as you gripped your weapon high. Your veins were pumping with adrenaline, almost making you shake but you never felt more alive. You had just won and you thrust up your weapon high in the air, and let out a yell. Immediately, a cacophony of cheers and yells joined you, sending another spike of adrenaline and you faintly saw the claim of Ares above your head. People swarmed you and in the zone, you attacked them which they gleefully returned back the favour. Then they lifted you up in the air, cheering that about another child of Ares as you were carried back to the Ares cabin where your siblings plopped you in front of it, and Clarisse at the head. 

She grinned at you, her figure imposing but you kept your chin high. 

“Not bad, but expected as a child of Ares. Don’t let it get to your head because there’s plenty coming” she said. 

“Bring it on” you fired back with a grin as she gave a smirk. 

“I’m Clarisse Rue, cabin leader of Cabin 5. Welcome to the Ares cabin.”