#out of all the things to expect when scrolling down i was not expecting… that

[theballadofharkness]

Whisky and Wine: A Glass Onion prequel

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: 8.9K

A/N: As per my polls here is my long awaited Claire Debella fic! I’m aware the part 2 poll was still quite 50/50 but this will indeed by a 2-3 parter however each part could work as a stand alone fic for those who are anti multiple parts 💜🪻

Warnings: very slight smut warning so as always MDNI!

The meeting had been a disaster.

You weren’t sure how an hour-long meeting with your publishers had managed to drain every ounce of energy from your body, but as you stepped out of the conference room all you could think about was getting home. The city buzzed around you, the late afternoon sun reflecting off glass buildings, but none of it mattered. You just needed her.

By the time you reached Claire’s house- a sleek, modern place that still somehow managed to feel lived-in- you were practically vibrating with frustration. The moment you stepped inside, dropping your bag near the door, you let out a heavy sigh.

“Claire?” Your voice was quieter than usual, worn-out. You kicked off your shoes and padded further in, following the distant sound of the news murmuring in the living room.

Then you saw her.

Claire was curled up on the couch, barefoot, her reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose as she scrolled through emails on her tablet. She looked up at the sound of your voice, her expression softening the moment she saw you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She set the tablet down, already reaching for you. “How was the meeting?”

You made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, collapsing onto the couch beside her. “Exhausting. I swear, if I hear the word ‘marketability’ one more time…”

Claire hummed knowingly, shifting so you could rest your head against her shoulder. “Let me guess. They want you to be more brand-friendly? Less ‘moody writer’ and more… what, exactly?”

“Something soulless, probably.” You sighed, letting her warmth seep into you. She smelled like her usual citrus-sandalwood perfume, and as her fingers began tracing absentminded circles on your arm, the tension in your body slowly melted away.

She exhaled through her nose, something almost like a laugh but edged with irritation. “Idiots. You don’t need to change a thing baby.”

There was a beat of silence. Her fingers continued their slow, soothing movements. Then, she pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her lips lingering just a second too long. “You want me to run you a bath?” she murmured. “Or do you just want to stay like this for a while?”

You turned, tilting your head up to look at her. She was watching you with that careful, quiet concern that she never quite knew how to express in words. It made something tighten in your chest.

“This,” you said simply, curling into her. “I just want this.”

Claire let out a breath, one hand slipping into your hair, her other arm wrapping securely around you. “Then this it is,” she murmured, holding you close.

The tension in your shoulders had finally started to ease. Claire’s arms were warm around you, her fingers still tracing slow patterns against your back. The two of you sat there in silence, the sounds of the outside world muffled by the thick glass windows of her home. It was just the two of you in your own little world.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at her. Claire had taken her reading glasses off at some point, setting them aside, and now she was watching you with that familiar, unreadable expression- half amusement, half something altogether softer.

“What?” you murmured, your voice quieter now, more settled.

She smiled, shaking her head as her hand slid up to cup your jaw. “Nothing,” she said, voice hushed. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

Your heart stuttered. It didn’t matter how long you had been with her- Claire always had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

Her thumb brushed over your cheek, her touch light but intentional. You barely had a moment to react before she guided your chin up and kissed you.

It was slow at first, unhurried, like she was taking her time memorizing every inch of you. Her lips were soft, warm, tasting faintly of the wine she’d been drinking earlier. You sighed into it, letting your hands rest on her waist, feeling the way she leaned into you, pulling you impossibly closer.

Then something shifted.

Maybe it was the way her fingers slid into your hair, tilting your head just so, or the quiet, contented sound she made against your lips. Either way, the kiss deepened, turned more heated, more urgent. Your fingers curled against the fabric of her shirt, needing more-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

The two of you froze. Claire pulled back just slightly, blinking like she had forgotten for a moment that the rest of the world existed.

You groaned, dropping your forehead against her shoulder. “Are you serious?”

Claire exhaled, biting back a smile. “Hold that thought,” she murmured before pressing one last kiss, so quick it was almost teasing, against your lips. Then, with a reluctant sigh, she untangled herself from you and stood up.

As she made her way to the door, you leaned back into the couch, still slightly dazed from the kiss. You could hear Claire unlocking the door, her voice shifting into something a little more polished, you recognised it immediately as her politician voice.

“Yes?”

“Mrs Debella?” a male voice asked.

“Miss” she corrected exasperatedly.

“Whatever. Special delivery from Alpha Industries.”

At that, your brows knit together, the name instantly recognizable. You sat up slightly, twisting to look toward the front door.

Claire hesitated for half a second before responding. “Right. Thanks.”

You heard the rustling of a package being handed over and then the door shutting again. Claire walked back into the room, a sleek black box in her hands. It was marked with the unmistakable Alpha logo.

You gave her a look. “Miles?”

She let out a sigh, setting the package down on the coffee table. “Looks like it.”

There was something about the way she said it- carefully neutral, but you knew her too well. You had heard enough about Miles Bron and the so-called “Disruptors” to know Claire didn’t take anything from them lightly. Still, she had kept you at a distance from it all. You knew them by name, by the stories she told late at night with a drink in her hand, her voice edged with frustration or reluctant nostalgia. But you had never met them.

Because Claire hadn’t wanted you to.

Your eyes flickered between the box and Claire, whose expression had turned slightly unreadable again. Whatever was inside, you had a feeling it wasn’t just some casual gift.

“Are you going to open it?” you asked.

Claire rubbed her temple, exhaling slowly. “Yeah,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “I guess I am.”

You sat back, watching as she rubbed a hand over her face before dropping onto the couch beside you, staring at the box like it might explode. You had seen Claire in enough high-pressure situations to know when something was actually bothering her.

“Claire.” You nudged her thigh with your knee, drawing her attention back to you. “Why does this feel like a problem?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “Because I’ve kept you separate from that part of my life for a reason,” she admitted. “And if this is what I think it is… that’s about to change.”

You swallowed, glancing at the box again.

Claire lifted the lid, her movements slower than usual, like she was bracing herself. Inside, nestled in layers of expensive black tissue paper, was an envelope- thick, pristine, sealed with a wax emblem stamped with the Alpha Industries logo.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at the unnecessary decadence. Of course it’s fucking wax-sealed. You leaned in as she cracked it open, pulling out what could only be described as the most obnoxious invitation you had ever seen. The card stock was absurdly thick, edged in real gold leaf, with deep blue calligraphy that looked handcrafted.

Claire’s name was printed at the top in bold lettering, followed immediately by yours. Your stomach did a weird little flip.

“Wait,” you said, pointing. “I’m invited?”

Claire’s body had gone very, very still.

Her eyes scanned the page again, her expression shifting from irritation to something sharper. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, and she swallowed once, like she was trying to keep herself from reacting too much.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Do they… know about me?”

Claire didn’t answer right away. Instead, she set the box down on the coffee table with a little too much precision, like she needed to make sure it stayed perfectly in place.

“They know I got divorced,” she spoke carefully. “But I don’t think they know about you.”

You could see it happening in real time- her mind running through every possibility, every scenario. She never told them about you. She made sure she never told them about you.

And yet…

“So how did Miles find out?” you asked slowly.

Claire didn’t answer right away. She was still staring at the invitation, her thumb brushing absently over your name, like she was trying to make sense of it.

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted, her voice quieter now. “I never told him. I never told any of them.”

That unsettled you more than you wanted to admit. Claire had been so careful about keeping you out of that part of her life- out of the press, out of the Disruptors’ orbit. But somehow, Miles had found out. And now he was inviting you into his world.

You glanced back down at the invitation. The details were written in Miles’ usual over-the-top way:

A Long Weekend of Luxury & Intrigue

Miles Bron’s Private Yacht – The Mediterranean

An Exclusive Getaway for My Closest Friends… and Their Loved Ones.

Travel arrangements to come, please forward any dietary requirements.

You frowned, tapping the words. “Loved ones,” you muttered. “Like he’s trying to make some kind of point.”

Claire let out a humorless laugh. “That’s exactly what he’s doing.”

Your gaze flickered back to her face. “Are we going?”

Claire ran a hand through her hair, exhaling slowly. “We don’t have a choice.” Something about the way she said it sent a shiver down your spine.

~

The sun was high, turning the Mediterranean into a stretch of endless sapphire. The dock where you stood was private, the kind of place reserved for the ultra-rich, with sleek yachts bobbing in the water and staff dressed in crisp white uniforms.

It felt unreal- like stepping into a different world, one that wasn’t meant for you.

You adjusted the hem of your sundress, feeling the warm breeze skim over your skin. The air here was different from back home- saltier, heavier with the scent of the ocean and something expensive you couldn’t quite name.

Claire’s fingers curled around your wrist before sliding down to lace her fingers with yours.

You glanced up at her. “You okay?”

She was wearing her signature sunglasses, but you could still see the tension in her jaw, the way she kept scanning the dock as if preparing for battle.

“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly.

You hummed, unconvinced.

For someone who had been relatively composed about this whole trip, Claire was not composed now. You had noticed it the second you stepped out of the car- how she had kept close to you, touching you more than usual.

Not that you minded.

Her hand slid down to your hip, fingers toying with the hem of your dress as she pulled you in against her side. “You look beautiful,” she murmured, her lips brushing just behind your ear.

A shiver ran through you. “Thank you,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly as her fingers tightened against your waist.

She had been like this since you left the U.S.- clingy, possessive, like she was afraid you might slip through her fingers if she let go for even a second. Normally, Claire wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but now? Now she couldn’t seem to stop touching you. You weren’t stupid. You knew what this was.

“Claire.” You turned slightly in her hold, placing a hand against her chest. “Talk to me.”

Her jaw tensed. For a second, you thought she might deflect again, but then she sighed and slipped her sunglasses off, rubbing at her temple.

“This is just… a lot,” she admitted. “I don’t know how they’re going to react.”

You swallowed. “To me?”

“To us.” Her grip on you tightened for just a second before she exhaled, forcing herself to ease up. “I don’t want you to regret coming.”

You softened, sliding a hand up to cup her face. “I won’t.”

Claire searched your eyes, something unspoken flickering in her own. Then, with a sigh, she pressed her forehead against yours, her fingers still gripping your waist like she needed to ground herself.

“I love you,” she murmured, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

Your breath hitched. She had said it before- countless times, in bed, in the quiet safety of her home. But now, standing in the open, just minutes away from walking into her world, it felt different.

Like a promise.

Before you could respond, the low hum of an approaching engine made Claire stiffen.

You both turned just in time to see the yacht appearing in the distance- massive, gleaming, an undeniable symbol of Miles Bron’s excess.

Claire inhaled sharply. “Here we go.”

You laced your fingers through hers, squeezing once. “Together?”

She looked at you, exhaled, and squeezed back.

“Together.”

The yacht was getting closer, and so was the inevitable reality of this weekend. Claire hadn’t let go of you yet- her hand still resting firmly against your hip, her fingers pressing absently into the soft fabric of your dress like she needed to reassure herself that you were there.

The first taxi pulled up to the dock, the back door swinging open.

Lionel Toussaint stepped out, looking sharp even after what must have been a long flight. His suit was crisp but effortless, like he had mastered the art of looking put-together without trying too hard. He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, taking in the view before his eyes landed on Claire.

His face lit up.

“Well, well,” he said, amusement threading through his voice. “Madame Governor.”

Claire grinned. “Hey, genius.”

They met halfway, embracing briefly but warmly, and you could tell immediately that Lionel was the one Claire was closest to in this group. There was an ease between them, a familiarity that softened some of the tension humming beneath Claire’s skin.

“You good?” Lionel asked as they pulled back.

Claire let out a breath. “Yeah. You?”

He gave her a tired but knowing look. “Ask me again in 48 hours.”

Claire chuckled, shaking her head.

You waited politely beside her, fingers grazing her wrist. Lionel’s eyes flickered to you, but there was no real recognition there- just a brief, dismissive glance before he turned his attention back to Claire, already moving on. And that told you everything.

He didn’t ignore you outright. He just… didn’t register you as important enough to greet.

Claire, however, wasn’t having that.

She cleared her throat pointedly and turned slightly toward you. “Lionel, this is my partner,” she said, her voice carefully even. “Y/N.”

It took half a second too long for Lionel to react.

His brows pulled together in visible confusion, like he had misheard her. His gaze finally settled on you properly, scanning you for the first time, and you could feel him trying to make sense of it.

“Your what?”

Claire’s expression barely flickered, but you could feel her body tense beside you. “My partner,” she repeated, her tone a fraction cooler.

Lionel blinked. His brain was clearly short-circuiting as he tried to recalibrate everything he thought he knew about Claire.

“I didn’t know you liked women,” he said finally, sounding genuinely puzzled.

Your stomach twisted.

Claire let out a dry, humorless laugh. “That’s funny,” she said. “Because I don’t remember ever having to tell you who I sleep with.”

Lionel held up his hands slightly, like he hadn’t meant anything by it. “No, I just-” He exhaled, clearly still processing, before his gaze flicked back to you, then back to Claire.

“She’s, uh… she’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”

There it is.

He was still talking about you, not to you, like you weren’t standing right there, like you weren’t fully aware of the judgment bleeding into his voice.

Claire’s grip on you tightened.

You weren’t sure if it was meant to be reassuring or if she was just holding herself back from punching Lionel in the face.

Your lips parted, ready to say something, but Claire beat you to it.

“She’s an adult,” she said sharply. “And I don’t need your fucking approval, Lionel.”

Lionel sighed, running a hand over his face like this was all so exhausting for him.

“I’m just saying,” he muttered. “It’s unexpected, that’s all.”

Claire exhaled sharply, her free hand finding your wrist and running her thumb over your pulse like she was grounding herself. “Sorry to disappoint,” she said flatly.

Lionel finally—finally—looked at you again, his expression unreadable.

“So… what do you do for work?” he asked, his tone more polite than interested.

“I’m a writer.” You finally spoke up, not particularly moved to go into your whole history for a man that was clearly disinterested.

He nodded back, like that was enough information, then turned to Claire again. “You bringing her on the yacht, then?”

Claire didn’t answer right away. You could feel the tension in her shoulders, the way she was fighting the urge to snap at him. But she just plastered on a tight smile.

“Looks like it.”

Lionel just hummed in response, glancing back toward the water as if this conversation was already over.

You felt Claire’s fingers tighten around yours, the silent message clear: Ignore him.

But something told you this trip was going to be a lot longer than you thought.

Lionel had already shifted into work mode, scrolling through his phone, agreeing with Claire in earnest as she muttered something under her breath about ‘Miles and his goddamn theatrics.’

You were still standing close to her, fingers laced with hers, trying to shake off the weirdness of Lionel’s reaction when another car pulled up to the dock.

It wasn’t subtle.

A gleaming white luxury SUV rolled to a stop, music blaring from the inside. The door swung open, and before you even saw her, you heard her.

“Oh my GOD! this heat? I’m obsessed!”

Birdie Jay stepped out in a billowing, brightly colored designer cover-up, her sunglasses comically oversized, her hair perfectly styled despite her dramatic complaints about the weather. Behind her, Peg struggled to haul out an impossible number of designer suitcases, her expression already exhausted.

“Claire! Lionel!” Birdie practically shrieked as she spotted them, arms flinging open in excitement.

Claire barely had time to react before Birdie was on her, pulling her into a hug that was somehow both enthusiastic and completely self-serving.

“Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Birdie gushed, stepping back to hold Claire at arm’s length. “You look so good, babe- tell me, did you get a little lift?”

Claire’s smile was tight. “No, Birdie.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.” Birdie winked before turning to Lionel, throwing her arms around him with just as much energy. “And you, genius boy, looking all serious as usual.”

Lionel barely managed a chuckle before Birdie released him, finally noticing you.

Her sunglasses slid down her nose as she openly stared.

“Wait.” She pointed dramatically. “Stranger danger. Who is this?”

Claire’s grip on you tightened immediately, her body shifting slightly in front of yours like some kind of shield.

“Birdie,” she said, voice edged with warning. “Stop it.”

Birdie gasped, pressing a manicured hand to her chest. “Oh my god, did I say something wrong?”

Claire exhaled sharply. “She’s my partner.”

Birdie blinked. “Your what?”

Claire’s patience was hanging on by a thread. “My girlfriend, Bird.”

Birdie let out a delighted squeal, clapping her hands together. “Shut up! Oh my god, Claire, you’re into girls? Since when? Well you did always dress in a lot of masculine beige outfits… oh my god did you have a crush on me?”

Peg, still lugging suitcases out of the SUV, muttered, “Oh my god, Birdie, please.”

Claire’s shoulders tensed, but you could see the way she was bracing for Birdie’s next thoughtless comment.

Birdie’s eyes flicked between you and Claire, her head tilting. “Wait, hold on, isn’t she, like-” She squinted at you. “- a baby?”

You stiffened slightly. Claire, on the other hand, visibly clenched her jaw.

“She’s an adult, Birdie,” she said, tone clipped.

Birdie just grinned, completely oblivious. “I love this new era for you Claire.” She leaned in closer,, “I mean, go off, queen- find yourself a little hot young thing-”

Claire groaned, rubbing a hand over her face.

Peg, clearly at her limit, slammed the car trunk shut and turned to Birdie with the deadest expression imaginable. “Can we please just get on the boat?”

Birdie waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, I’m going.” She turned back to you, flashing a megawatt smile. “Well, welcome to the shitshow, babe!”

And with that, she strutted toward the dock, leaving you standing there, still processing whatever the hell just happened.

Claire let out a slow, deep breath.

“I told you,” she muttered, rubbing your back as if that could somehow erase the past five minutes.

The air was already thick with tension from Birdie’s arrival, but then the roar of an approaching engine shattered the relative calm.

You turned just in time to see a massive, gleaming black motorcycle pulling up to the dock, kicking up dust and salt air as it skidded to a dramatic stop.

And then, of course, the gunfire. Two deafening BANG! BANG! shots into the sky. You nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Jesus fuck,” Claire muttered under her breath, while Lionel just pinched the bridge of his nose.

Duke Cody swung one massive leg off the bike, holstering his pistol like this was just another Tuesday. His biceps strained against his tactical vest, the mirrored sunglasses doing nothing to hide his shit-eating grin.

Right behind him, Whisky dismounted, long legs swinging off the bike as she pulled off her helmet, shaking out her perfect blonde waves like she was in a goddamn commercial.

“Hell yeah, baby!” Duke whooped, spreading his arms wide as he approached the group. “Who’s ready to party?”

Birdie, of course, squealed and sprinted straight into his arms.

“Duuuuuuke!” she shrieked as he lifted her clean off the ground.

“Birdie, my girl!” Duke spun her once before setting her down, slapping Lionel on the back next. “My man! How we doin’?”

Lionel sighed but accepted the hug. “Duke.”

Then Duke turned to Claire, grinning as he pulled her in for an aggressively firm hug.

“Claire! How’s politics? Bunch of bullshit, huh?”

Claire grimaced as she pulled away. “As always.”

Duke let out a booming laugh before his gaze finally landed on you.

He frowned slightly, sunglasses tilting down as he gave you a once-over. “Wait a minute- who’s this? You tight with Miles?”

Claire’s spine snapped straight. “She’s my partner,” she said before you could even open your mouth.

Duke’s eyebrows shot up before his face split into a wide, very male grin. “Ohhhh,” he drawled. “Girl on girl, huh? Sounds hot.”

You physically cringed. Claire, on the other hand, made a sound so close to an actual growl that Lionel had to clear his throat.

“Duke, no,” Peg muttered from somewhere behind her stack of luggage.

“Duke. Stop.” Claire snapped, glaring at Duke like she was two seconds from punching him.

Duke, completely unbothered, just chuckled. “Hey, I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

Before Claire could actually strangle him, Whisky finally approached, sliding past Duke and straight toward you.

“Oh my god,” she said, all breathy excitement, her arms already opening. “It’s so good to meet you.”

And then, suddenly, you were being hugged.

You blinked, startled but not opposed, as Whisky wrapped you up in genuine warmth. She smelled like vanilla and sunscreen, her long, tanned arms squeezing you tightly before pulling back with an easy, dazzling smile.

“You’re, like, the only other person here who gets it,” she said under her breath , gripping your shoulders. “This group is insane, but don’t worry, babe- I got you.”

You blinked again. “Oh. Uh- thank you?”

Claire, meanwhile, was staring at Whisky like she had just committed a crime. You felt the exact moment her arm snaked around your waist, her grip firm, possessive.

Whisky, oblivious, just beamed at you. “We’re gonna stick together, okay?”

Claire’s fingers dug into your side. “Actually,” she cut in, her voice way too even, “she’ll be sticking with me.”

Whisky finally seemed to notice the tension and raised her perfectly arched brows, glancing between you and Claire.

“Oh,” she said, smirking slightly. “I see how it is.”

You didn't miss the way Claire’s hold on you tightened, like she thought Whisky might actually steal you right in front of her.

Duke, meanwhile, clapped his hands together, completely unaware of the subtle war happening in front of him. “Alright, enough chit-chat- where’s this big-ass boat?”

Claire exhaled sharply, but her grip on you didn’t loosen. Yeah this was gonna be a long weekend.

The yacht finally docked, looming ahead of you, sleek and impossibly expensive, rocking slightly in the clear blue waters of the Mediterranean. A crew of staff was already waiting on deck, dressed in crisp white uniforms, making last-minute preparations as the boat docked.

Miles Bron finally appeared, stepping onto the upper deck like a king surveying his kingdom. Arms wide, sunglasses reflecting the sun, dressed in linen like he had personally invented wealth.

“My closest friends!” he boomed, his voice carrying over the dock. “My fellow Disruptors!”

Claire exhaled so hard you felt it.

Miles grinned, throwing his arms open like he expected the group to cheer for him.

“I’m so glad you all could make it,” he continued, gesturing grandly at the yacht behind him. “This weekend is gonna be legendary. We’re talking relaxation, revelation, innovation-”

Lionel sighed. “Can we just get on the boat?”

Miles laughed, pointing at him. “That’s my guy! Always straight to business.”

Claire muttered under her breath, “Oh my god, I can’t do this.”

You squeezed her hand. “Too late now.”

One by one, the group greeted him, stepping onto the yacht like they were walking onto the red carpet.

Birdie was all over him immediately, throwing her arms around his neck. “Miles, darling! I’ve missed you!”

Miles chuckled, squeezing her tight. “Birdie Jay, my shining star!”

Behind her, Peg staggered forward, hauling an ungodly amount of luggage up the gangway, struggling as she tried to keep up.

Claire leaned toward you. “Should we…?”

You glanced at Peg, whose face was bright red from exertion, and whispered back, “She’s gotta learn to leave Birdie.”

Claire let out a quiet huff of laughter.

Duke approached next, gripping Miles in one of those firm, testosterone-heavy handshakes before pulling him into a half-hug. “My man, look at you. Alpha as fuck.”

Miles lapped it up, grinning. “Duke, my brother, always bringing that energy.”

Then…Whisky.

You expected her to greet him like the others, but instead, she melted into his arms. And lingered. Her arms looped around his neck, and Miles held her just a little too close, his hand pressed way too low on her back.

Claire stiffened beside you. Your eyes met hers, both of you sharing suspicious looks. Whisky finally pulled back, giving Miles a dazzling smile before stepping onto the boat. Miles smoothed a hand down his shirt, still grinning like a man who was absolutely getting laid that night.

Claire’s grip on your waist tightened. “Fucking figures.”

Finally, it was your turn.

Miles’ gaze slid over to you, his sunglasses lowering slightly as his lips curled into that infuriatingly smug grin.

“And who do we have here?” he asked, voice smooth, curious.

You blinked. “Uh… you put my name on the invitation?”

For a split second, his expression flickered- just the faintest tell that, yeah, he absolutely knew that. But then it was gone, replaced by an easy chuckle as he spread his hands like it had just slipped his mind.

“Of course! Of course,” he said, nodding. “Just had to put a face to the name.”

Bullshit.

You knew it. He knew it.

And judging by the way Claire’s body tensed beside you, *she* definitely knew it, too. Before you could say anything else, Claire’s grip on you tightened.

“She’s mine, Miles,” she said- sharp, firm, final. Not my partner. Not we’re together. Just mine.

Miles raised his hands in mock surrender, the smirk never leaving his face. “Hey, love that for you, Claire.”

Claire didn’t move. Didn’t let go. Didn’t break her glare. You felt the way her fingers curled against your waist, the unspoken weight in her hold. It wasn’t just about you anymore. She’d just watched Whisky drape herself all over him. She’d just clocked the dynamic shift, the tension, the fact that Duke’s girlfriend had just hugged Miles like she belonged to him. And now Miles was looking at you with that same assessing energy.

Yeah. Not happening.

Without another word, Claire pulled you past him, her grip solid, grounding. As you stepped onto the yacht, you caught the tail end of Miles’ quiet chuckle behind you. Yeah you should have dragged Claire off the boat when you had the chance.

~

It was evident that Miles loved the sound of his own voice.

The second everyone was settled on deck, he launched straight into his grand welcome speech, pacing in front of the group like he was unveiling the next great innovation that would change the world.

“It is so good to have my inner circle here,” he began, grinning wide as he spread his arms, his linen shirt billowing like he was about to ascend. “This weekend is gonna be legendary. A weekend of ideas. Of disruption. Of pure creativity.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Claire, standing stiffly beside you, just exhaled slowly through her nose.

Miles clapped his hands together. “Now, I’ve personally curated this experience for each of you,” he continued, smirking. “Every detail, every moment, it’s perfection. And that includes where you’ll be staying.” He gestured dramatically, and one of the staff members stepped forward, holding a sleek silver tray. On it were a set of thin, futuristic-looking wristbands.

“Each of you will be staying in luxury,” Miles said, plucking a band off the tray. “Your rooms are assigned- and these?” He held up the wristband between two fingers. “These are your keys. Custom-made. High-tech. Just tap in, and boom- your room knows you.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Claire muttered under her breath.

Miles shot her a wink like she’d just complimented him. One by one, the group took their wristbands- Duke inspecting his like it was a weapon, Birdie gasping about how tech-y it was, Whisky cooing as Miles personally strapped hers on (suspicious), Peg looking like she wanted to throw hers into the ocean.

When you and Claire got yours, she barely acknowledged it- just grabbed your hand and dragged you toward the room assignments before Miles could get any more insufferable.

The second you stepped inside your room, the door sliding shut behind you, Claire pounced.

Her lips crashed into yours, her hands gripping at your hips, your waist, your arms- everywhere, like she was grounding herself in your presence.

You barely had time to gasp before she was pressing you back against the door, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress.

“Baby,” she breathed, her voice desperate, almost pleading. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” Her lips dragged over your jaw, your throat. “You’re just mine, yeah?”

Your heart stuttered. You’d never seen her like this. Needy. Desperate. You knew what this was. You’d felt her tension building all day- when Lionel barely acknowledged you, when Birdie treated you like a novelty, when Duke made it gross, when Whisky hugged you, when Miles looked at you. And most of all- when she realised that Miles had obviously been fucking Whisky behind Duke’s back.

Claire had clocked it instantly. And if Miles was willing to do that to Duke then all bets were off. She’d seen the way he looked at you. How he pretended not to know you. Like you were just another piece on the board for him to play with. And now? She was holding onto you like she thought you might slip away, too.

You cupped her face, guiding her back to your lips. “I’m yours,” you murmured, brushing your mouth against hers. “Just yours.”

She made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan and kissed you harder. Her hands were shaking as they gripped your waist, sliding over your hips like she needed more, needed to prove something to herself. And god, you were more than willing to let her.

But then…

Ding.

A notification popped up on the sleek, futuristic screen by the bed. Miles’ voice crackled over the speakers:

“Dinner in an hour, Disruptors! Be ready for anything.”

Claire froze. Her forehead pressed to yours, her breath still heavy, her fingers still clinging to your dress.

“I fucking hate him.”

You laughed. “I know.”

She groaned, pressing her lips to your forehead before stepping back. “Come on, baby. Let’s get this over with.”

But the second you turned to grab your bag, she smacked your ass. Hard.

You gasped, whipping around, and she just grinned. “Just reminding you,” she murmured, voice low, teasing. “You’re mine.”

Yeah. This weekend was gonna be dangerous.

~

The shower had been quiet, save for the sound of water cascading down the glass, the gentle rhythm of your body moving with Claire’s as she helped you rinse the shampoo from your hair. It was one of those moments where everything felt soft, almost like time had slowed down just for you two. You were both getting ready for dinner, the tension of the day still clinging to you, but now it was tempered by the closeness- the warmth of her skin against yours, her lips pressing light kisses to the back of your neck as you dried off.

Claire had been all over you in the shower, but as you both dressed, she seemed to get quieter, her hands brushing over your body with a purpose you couldn’t quite place. You were dressed in a short, fitted black dress that showcased your figure- simple but undeniably flattering, you could tell Claire approved by the way her gaze lingered on you a little too long.

“You look beautiful,” she murmured as she pulled you back into her arms. Her lips on your neck, hands grabbing your waist, pulling you into her.

“I don’t want to let you go,” she whispered against your skin. “But we have to. They’ll be waiting.”

You chuckled. “You’re hot and bothered again already?” You teased softly.

She gave you a quick, teasing bite to your neck. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it, baby.”

You turned in her arms to face her, resting your hands on her chest. You could see the battle inside her- her breath still shallow, her body still tightly wound as she fought the impulse to drag you into the bed again. But she just smiled at you instead, her lips soft and sweet as she kissed you once more.

When you finally pulled away, you caught her gaze, soft but with an undeniable possessive edge. “I’m yours. All yours.this trip won’t change that” You smiled against her lips, feeling the warmth of her body, the need in her touch.

“Ready for dinner?”

You nodded, letting her pull you out of the room and into the hallway.

The sight of the yacht’s wide-open deck was breathtaking- the Mediterranean air cool, the distant sound of waves lapping against the hull. The deck was alive with conversation when you arrived- everyone mingling, glasses in hand, as the sun set over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the yacht. Miles was standing center stage, naturally, as if he were the star of some kind of farcical play. He exuded that patented mix of “down-to-earth billionaire” bullshit and self-importance.

When he saw you and Claire, his smile grew wider, and he made a show of waving you over with open arms. “Ah, the perfect pair! So glad you could join us,” he said, grinning.

He handed each of the guests a glass of their preferred drink- Lionel’s rum, Birdie’s cocktail, Duke’s whiskey, and, of course, Peg’s... discount beer in a red solo cup, before turning to Claire with a flourish.

“Claire bear, for you- room temperature Pinot Grigio, as you like it.”

Claire barely looked at him, already focused on going to speak to Lionel as she took the glass. She moved away from Miles, leaving you standing beside him, and that’s when he pounced.

Miles tilted his head at you, still smiling. “What’ll it be, beautiful? Pick your poison- our mixologist can whip up whatever you want.”

You tilted your head slightly. “I don’t really drink.”

“Ah,” he hummed, dragging the moment out, like he was waiting for you to explain yourself. You didn’t.

Instead, you caught Claire’s eye from across the deck, and she was already looking at you, brows just slightly furrowed, her grip tightening around her wine glass.

Before she could step back toward you, a loud voice cut through-

“Hey where’s your drink?”

Duke. You barely had time to react before he was beside you, all bravado and ego, Whisky trailing just behind. His sunglasses were still on despite the dimming light, and his arms flexed as he gestured to your empty hands.

“She’s not drinking,” Claire interjected, her voice clipped.

Duke barely acknowledged her, already reaching for one of the drinks they’d brought over. Miles opened his mouth like he was about to say something, some smug little comment about your earlier refusal.

And you weren’t about to let him.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath, then louder, “I’ll take what you’re having, if you’re offering.”

Duke’s grin spread, wide and pleased. He clapped a heavy hand on your shoulder like you’d earned something. You lurched forward at the sheer force of it.

“That’s the spirit! Good girl- I’m loving this energy!”

Whisky passed you a drink- something dark, strong-smelling, condensation beading down the glass. Claire stiffened beside you. You lifted the glass to your lips, taking a long, slow sip- never breaking eye contact with Miles. The burn hit your throat instantly, sharp and biting, but you kept your expression neutral. Miles just watched you, unreadable for a fraction of a second- then smirked.

Dinner was exactly as unbearable as you thought it would be. The long, immaculately set table stretched out across the open-air deck, the Mediterranean breeze sweeping through candle flames and ruffling the edges of cloth napkins. The food was extravagant, the wine endlessly poured, and the conversation? Absolutely insufferable.

You had been drinking steadily just to survive it. At first, it was just to take the edge off- the way Miles sat at the head of the table like some kind of tech god, the way Whisky leaned in close to him, practically coiled around him, the way everyone here seemed to just accept it, like it was normal.

Then Birdie started talking.

"Peg, hand me my phone," she said, reaching across the table like she expected it to materialize in her hand.

Peg, visibly exhausted, didn’t even look up from her plate. "No."

Birdie blinked, affronted. "What?"

"You promised. No phone. Not until the end of the media cycle."

Birdie groaned, throwing her head back. "Oh my god, are we still on that? I apologized! I explained!"

Claire exhaled sharply, already rubbing at her temples. Lionel was gripping the bridge of his nose. Duke, as expected, was no help at all.

"People are just so sensitive these days," he muttered, shaking his head. "So woke. You know Kimmel said I hated boobs?”

Birdie lit up like he had just cracked some kind of universal truth. "YES! Exactly! That's what I keep saying! I'm a truth teller! I say it like I see it, and people can't handle it!"

Claire and Lionel exchanged a look. A very long, very exhausted look.

And that was when you- who had, by this point, abandoned all forms of self-restraint- snorted. Loudly. Everyone turned toward you. "Bullshit," you muttered, swirling the last of your drink in your glass.

Birdie’s mouth actually dropped open. "Excuse me?" She blinked at you, eyes wide, before laughing like she had misheard you. "Sweetie, I have Gucci handbags older than you."

You rolled your eyes, setting your glass down with a sharp clink. "Don't you think you're mistaking ‘truth telling’ with just speaking without thought?"

The table froze. Even Peg, who should be on your side, looked vaguely alarmed.

"What you're doing is dangerous," you went on, voice a little too loud, a little too loose from the alcohol. "You say shit without thinking, and people listen to you. That’s not truth telling, Birdie. It’s just-”

Birdie grinned, leaning in. "Oh, so you think I'm dangerous, huh?"

You scoffed, already reaching for your glass again. "It’s not a compliment. It’s stupi-"

"Okay," Claire cut in, her voice forcibly light but you could feel the steel grip of her hand on your thigh. "You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s get you back to the room."

You turned to her, blinking. "I’m fine-"

"You’re done," she said, already pulling you to stand, already steering you away from the table.

The conversation picked up again as you left, but you still felt Birdie’s eyes on your back. And Miles? Miles was smirking.

~

The door slammed behind you, the sound echoing through the sleek, modern bedroom. The second Claire turned to face you, hands already on her hips, you exploded.

"What the fuck, Claire?!"

She looked just as furious as you felt, stepping forward, eyes flashing. "No, what the fuck was that?"

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Me? You’re friends with a woman who compared herself to Harriet Tubman and I’M the one embarrassing you?! Have you seen Duke’s streams?!"

Claire pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. "Yes, I know exactly what they’re like, but they are my very old friends, and you cannot just-”

"Oh, so when it’s you marking me up and making me tell you how I belong to you, that’s fine, but the second it’s me versus your shithead friends, suddenly I’m dragged back here like a fucking child?"

Claire’s jaw clenched.

"Fuck off then," you muttered, turning away.

A beat.

Then, Claire was on you. Not gentle, not soft- commanding. A sharp grip on your chin, tilting your head up, her voice a low, controlled warning. "You don’t talk to me like that."

You froze. Claire’s face was so close to yours, her grip firm but careful, her breath warm against your lips. "You’re drunk," she said, voice steady. "Go to bed."

Your stomach twisted. "Claire-"

"I’m going back to the group."

Your heart dropped. "You’re leaving?"

"Yes." Her voice wasn’t cruel, but it was final.

You stared at her, something deep and ugly twisting inside you. "Why?"

Claire exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down her face. When she finally met your gaze again, she looked tired.

"Listen," she said, softer now. "I can’t stand Miles. But he’s the one paying for my entire electoral campaign. You can’t just piss him off."

The words landed like a slap. Claire watched the way your expression shifted- how your chest rose and fell, how your mouth pressed into a thin line. You swallowed, your throat dry.

"Right," you muttered.

Claire sighed, reaching for you, but you stepped back.

"Go," you said, voice quiet.

She hesitated. But then, without another word, she turned and left. And for the first time since stepping foot on this yacht, you felt completely alone.

~

You woke up feeling like shit.

Your mouth was dry, your head was pounding, and your stomach churned with the unmistakable nausea of a hangover. The Mediterranean sun poured in through the open balcony doors, searing hot against your eyelids, and the cool sheets beneath you did nothing to soothe the ache in your skull.

The thin sheet barely covered you. You weren’t even sure if you’d bothered to get ready for bed the night before, but judging by the state of you- naked, woozy, with your dress crumpled up in the corner of the room- you assumed you hadn’t. Your stomach turned as the memories filtered in, sluggish and blurry- Miles, the drinks, the fight with Claire, the way she left you last night, drunk and fuming in this big, stupid, obscenely expensive bedroom. You groaned, pressing your face into the pillow. Claire’s warm, soft body was already curled around yours.

"Good morning, baby," she murmured against your shoulder, voice thick with sleep as her lips trailed down your bare skin.

You pulled the sheet up higher over your bare breasts, burrowing deeper into the pillows. "I’m dying," you croaked.

"Yeah," Claire sighed, nosing into your hair. "You did drink a lot."

You cracked one eye open just to glare at her. "Thanks for the insight Governor."

Claire just smiled, tilting your chin slightly so she could kiss the corner of your mouth. "C’mon," she murmured, her fingers tracing over your waist, nose nuzzling into your hair. "Baby," she coaxed, her voice dipping lower, her hand smoothing over your stomach. "Let me make it up to you."

You groaned again, rolling onto your back, your body betraying you as her hands roamed lower. "No." You made a noise, half groan, half protest, and shifted away from her mouth.

Claire chuckled, completely unfazed, her arms tightening around your waist. "No?"

"Still mad," you mumbled, voice thick with sleep and dehydration.

Claire exhaled a soft, amused laugh, shifting so she was pressed even closer. "Still mad," she repeated, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your jaw. "Baby..."

You didn’t react.

Claire huffed, pressing her nose into your hair, her hand slipping lower, tracing lightly over your bare stomach. "Baby," she repeated, her voice dropping into that low, coaxing register that always made your spine tingle. "C’mon. Mommy’s sorry. Don’t be mad."

You huffed, pulling the sheet high over your head.

Claire didn't like that. With an amused hum, she slipped beneath the covers with you, her breath warm against your neck, her lips finding your jaw this time, soft and lingering. "There she is," she murmured, voice honeyed. "Thought I lost you under there."

You pushed at her arm weakly. "Claire."

"What?" she asked innocently, though her hand was already inching lower, fingers ghosting over the dip of your waist. "I’m just waking my baby girl up."

"You left me," you muttered, voice quieter now, but still laced with irritation.

Claire sighed again- this time, more genuine. She kissed your temple, her lips lingering, before murmuring, "I know."

You swallowed, staring at the ceiling, heart still heavy in your chest. "You left."

A pause. Then, softer: "I know, baby. Her voice had that gentle edge to it, like she was really feeling it now- the weight of the fight, the things she’d said, the way she walked away.

"You chose them," you mumbled into the pillow.

Claire exhaled sharply, shifting so she could prop herself up on one elbow. "It wasn’t like that."

You snorted. "Oh, wasn’t it? You dragged me away like some unruly child, Claire."

She ran a hand through her hair, exasperated. "I was trying to keep the peace. You don’t know how complicated it is-"

"I don’t know?" You twisted to face her, your head still throbbing, but the rage from last night was creeping back in. "You think I don’t know what it’s like to deal with entitled narcissists who think they’re the smartest people in the room? I write about people like Miles for a living."

Claire sighed, fingers pressing into her temple. "I know it wasn’t fair to you."

You rolled onto your back, throwing an arm over your eyes. "No, it wasn’t."

A beat of silence. "I’m sorry."

You turned your head just slightly, peeking at her from under your arm. "You should be."

Then she shifted, her leg slotting between yours, her lips trailing lower.

"Claire," you warned.

"Mmm?" Her teeth grazed the edge of your jaw, her grip on your waist tightening.

"You don’t get to leave me and then fuck me," you snapped, waving a weak hand toward her.

Claire smirked, completely unapologetic, fingers dancing higher up your thigh. "No?"

You glared at her, but you were still so hungover, and she was so warm and soft and-

"Baby," she murmured, pressing a kiss right below your ear. "Let me make it up to you."

You wanted to stay mad.

You really did.

But then she was kissing your neck, slow and deliberate, her hand gripping your thigh just right to make your hips can’t against the muscle of her leg, her voice all low and sweet and devoted, like she would spend the whole day proving how sorry she was if you just let her. Your heart ached a little. You were still mad. But you also still loved her.

“Please” you breathed shakily, hips rocking steadily now. “I love you”

“I love you babygirl” Claire cooed.

Then… Miles’ voice crackled over the speakers:

“Disruptors! Breakfast is prepared! Make your way to the deck.”

“Oh come ON”

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 5

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures, memory loss, hospitals and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando woke up feeling like absolute shit.

His head was pounding, his mouth was drier than the desert, and judging by the fact that he’s still half-dressed and tangled in a celebratory McLaren flag, last night must have been good.

He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. He remembered fragments of the night before - flashes of bright lights, loud music, and way too much drinking.

He had won.

Lando Norris was a Formula 1 Grand Prix Winner.

He had been nearly drowned in champagne by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

He had won the 2024 Miami Grandprix.

Lando let out a sigh and gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position, clutching his head as a sharp pain shot through his temples.

He fumbled for his phone, cringing at the notifications that had piled up overnight. Messages from friends, family, and the racing world congratulating him on his victory.

He blinked blearily at his phone.

Too early. Too bright. Too… too.

But there’s one thing he needs to do before he even considers getting up.

He scrolled through his notifications, heart sinking when he still doesn’t see Lizzie’s name.

But there’s nothing.

His fingers fumble as he types out another message.

Lando: Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? You didn’t answer last night. I was a bit… not in the best state, but I was really hoping to hear from you.

Lando: I’m just worried. Is everything alright? I know I was probably being a bit much last night, but you can always just let me know if you need space or whatever. I just want to make sure you’re good.

Nothing.

Lando stared at his phone, the pit in his stomach growing deeper with each passing second. He didn't understand why Lizzie hadn't responded, and the not knowing was driving him crazy.

He groaned, running a hand down his face.

He tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

His stomach twists.

Lando didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Lizzie was usually pretty good about replying to his messages.

He tried texting again.

Lando: Look, I get it if you need time. I don’t want to come off too strong. I just feel like I should've heard from you by now, and I’m starting to panic a bit. Just a quick text would help me breathe for a second, you know?

Lando stared at his phone, watching the time tick by with agonizing slowness. He'd been awake for nearly an hour now, and Lizzie hadn't responded to any of his messages.

He tried calling again, only to be met with the same response - straight to voicemail...again.

And then his phone pinged.

Lizzie: Hi, this is Lizzie’s father. She’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures. She’s woken up a few times, but she’s not very responsive. I don’t know who you are, but judging by the way she’s saved your contact as ‘Lando Not Dying Yet Norris,’ I assume you’re important enough to be told.

Lando blinks. Stares. His hangover vanishes instantly.

She’s at the Royal Sussex Hospital. Thought I’d tell you in case you want to show up to visit her.

Lando feels like all the air has been sucked from the room.

Hospital. Seizures. Not responsive.

He doesn’t even realize he’s shaking until he fumbles trying to type back.

Lando: I—fuck. Is she okay? What happened?

Three little dots appear, then vanish. Then appear again.

Lizzie: She’s stable. But it was bad.

Lando pushes back the covers, already moving, already grabbing for his McLaren hoodie like that will somehow help him fix this.

He needs to be there.

Now.

His hands are unsteady as he opens his flight app. The next available flight back to London is in four hours.

Not soon enough.

Lando: I’m coming back to the UK. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

There’s no reply, but Lando doesn’t care. His heart is hammering, his mind racing, and there’s only one thing he knows for sure—

He has to get to Lizzie.

He…

There was a knock at the door.

Lando jumped, his already frayed nerves on edge. "Who is it?" he called out, his voice cracking slightly.

“It’s Oscar.”

Lando sagged with relief as he recognized the Australian accent drifting through the door. “Come in.”

The door creaked open and Oscar Piastri poked his head into the room. His eyes widened when he saw Lando’s harried expression. “Mate, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lando shook his head, feeling the tension in his shoulders tighten even more. "No, not alright. Lizzie’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures."

Oscar’s expression immediately darkened. "What the hell? Multiple seizures? How is she doing now?”

“Not good, apparently. Her dad said she’s stable, but she’s not very responsive. I’m flying back to London to see her.” Lando ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his heart still racing with worry.

“God damn.” Oscar stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. He studied Lando’s face for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a mess, mate. Have you eaten anything?”

Lando shook his head, the thought of food making his stomach churn. "No, I haven't even had a chance to think about food. I’m just freaking out, mate. I’ve never seen her have a seizure, let alone multiple seizures…She had one last week before we had dinner, but she seemed fine, just tired… I have no idea how bad it’s going to be. This is...this is so messed up."

Oscar nodded sympathetically, his expression still grave. "Go," he said simply. "I'll make your apologies to Zac and the team."

Lando nodded numbly, already moving to pack a bag. Oscar stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "And mate? Try to keep calm. You won’t do Lizzie any good if you’re a wreck yourself."

Lando huffed out a breath. "I’ll try."

"Can you tell Max..." Lando trailed off. He had no idea what to even…

Oscar's expression softened. “I’ll tell Max. And the others. You just focus on getting to the hospital, alright?”

Lando nods, his throat suddenly feeling thick. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Oscar."

[trippiexlove]

Heart of a Woman

Author Note: Based on the song Heart of A Woman by Summer Walker. Y'all chose it! I hope you enjoy. If you want to leave a song request for a one shot please comment on this post. Check out my master list for other one shots / stories.

Warning: Smut, Angst, P in V, Oral (f! receiving), Profanity, Praise, Toxic Relationship

Pairing: Zilla Fatu x Black OC

Word Count: 3,210

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Only thing that saving you...

Is a Heart of a Woman…

Indya leaned over the large island in the kitchen of the house she shared with her boyfriend of three years, Isayah. 

Pissed wasn't even the word. She was livid. 

Moments ago she received a random message from an unknown number. It was a message every woman dreads to get. 

A coming to you as a woman message. 

Normally she would ignore it, majority of the time it was just women trying to ruin their relationship. She knew how popular Isayah has become in the last year. His wrestling career really taking off this past year. She knew groupies came with this lifestyle. She had trusted him. But this was a constant cycle they went through. 

But this message was different. It had actual concrete proof. Pictures, screenshots and screen recordings of multiple messages and FaceTime calls.

She couldn't help but to feel the hurt and betrayal. Most of all she was more upset with herself. Knowing that this wasn't the first time, but continuously keep giving him second chances. 

She was so focused on the messages. Continuously scrolling through them, in denial, trying to find something that didn't make this true. The more she kept looking it the more she became upset. Indya was so focused on the messages until the familiar ringtone, signaling an incoming FaceTime from Isayah, came to her phone.  

When she answered the phone she could see he was outside somewhere. Seem like he was talking to someone beside before his focus turned to the phone. "What's up ma, you good?"

"I'm coo'" she was very short with him. Her attitude evident as he furrowed his brows together. She walked into the living room, propping the phone on the table before sitting on the couch. 

Isayah could sense her energy through the phone. "You sure? Yo' tone says otherwise" concern laced in his voice. 

"Who's Erica?" She didn't waste any time, crossing her arms waiting for an answer. 

Isayah scrunched up his eyebrow, a look of confusion on his face "What'chu talkin' about?"

She rolled her eyes before continuing to speak. "I won't ask again Isayah," she stated pointedly "who is Erica?"

He looked away briefly before looking down into the phone "I don't know what'chu talkin' bout Indy"

"So we're going down the route of acting like we're dumb" she nodded her head. She grabbed her phone off the table, going to the message thread. Once she pulled it up she sent all the messages and screen recordings to him. 

Isayah phone dinged from the other end. She watched his face as he read through the messages. He kissed his teeth, exiting out the thread. "Indya that's someone I used to deal with a long time ago. Haven't seen that girl in years"

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Indya frowned. "You must take me as a dumb bitch if you think I'ma just let you sit here and lie to me when there's fucking proof!" she raised her voice. Getting more and more upset. 

"You just gon' believe her over what I'm tellin' you. I'm yo' man right?" Isayah voice rising with every word. 

"Are you my man though?" Indya lifted an eyebrow. She stared right back at him as he shot dagger through the screen. 

"Indya, stop fuckin' playin' with me. I told you I ain't seen that girl in years, the fuck you trippin' for?" Indya was token back from his words, before nodding her head.

"You know what since you wanna play dumb, I'll act fucking stupid. Go be with that bitch and stay the fuck away from me. You're single, fuck you!" Indya hung up before he could get another word in. She threw her phone down, before placing her head in her hands. She felt the tears that have been threatening to fall for a while. The constant ringing of her phone, as Isayah kept calling and texting, sounded throughout the living room. 

After a while, she wiped her eyes before grabbing her phone and blocking his number. Heading upstairs to sleep the night off. 

[Few Days Later]

Indya was out on a girl's day with her best friends, Sabrina and Tara. They got her out the house to take her mind off the fight she had a few days ago with Isayah. Refusing to let their friend to wallow in her feelings. 

They spent the day shopping, getting their nails done, and were currently at their favorite restaurant to have lunch. 

After placing their order with their server, Sabrina looked over at Indya. "We've been avoiding this conversation all day, but I think it's time to address it" Tara nodded knowing what Sabrina was getting into. "How are you feeling Indy?"

Indya sighed, throwing her head back slightly "I think I am just more mad at myself for continuing to keep taking him back."

"You can't be upset with yourself about that," Tara grabbed Indya's hand "It is not your fault that he can't grow up and see what an amazing woman he has and to treat you accordingly"

Sabrina nodded in agreement before adding in her two cents "You have been nothing but great towards him and will literally drop everything just to make sure he's ok. We all make mistakes but it's just how we learn from it"

Indya nodded. Taking in her best friends words. "It's just so hard because I really do love him." she sniffled a bit, wiping the tear that fell. 

"We understand girl," Tara sympathize with her best friend "but sometimes love isn't worth the hurt he's causing you" 

"What do you plan on doing now?" Sabrina asked as she leaned back in her chair. 

Indya sat in silence for a moment, she knew what she had to do. The decision didn't come so lightly "I'm done and forreal this time. I can't keep doing this"

"We your girls, we love you and will support you" Sabrina smiled grabbing her other hand. Tara nodding in agreement.

Indya blinked back more tears smiling at both her best friends. Truly appreciative of them. "Thanks I love y'all"

Soon the server brought over their food and the conversation shifted to something lighter. For the first time in a last few days Indya felt a weight lifted off her shoulders. Forgetting about the drama and enjoying the rest of the time with her best friends.

They paid the bill once they were done. Hopping into Sabrina's car, she started heading towards Indya's house. When the pulled up Indya sighed when she noticed Isayah's car in the driveway. 

He was back after being gone for a week due to having shows and appearances. Sabrina looked over at Indya, a certain look in her eye. "Do you need us to come in with you?"

Indya shook her head as she grabbed her keys out her purse "It's fine"

"You sure?" Tara leaned up from the front seat "We can just go in and beat his ass real quick and get your stuff"

Indya softly laughed at her friends "I promise I'll be fine. I'll text y'all"

"Ok," Sabrina said unsure "you better text us"

Indya promised she would text them as she got out, Tara taking her place in the passenger seat. She waved bye to them before walking up to the front door. She blew out a breathe before unlocking the door going inside. 

When she walked in Isayah was standing in the middle of the living room. She turned to the door locking it. 

"Where you been?" Isayah questioned, watching her every movement. Indya ignored him, throwing her keys in the bowl by the door. Walking right by him. He furrowed his eye brow as he watched her walk towards the stairs.

With quick movements he grabbed upper arm, making her turn towards him. "You hear me talkin' to you" 

"Unless you're here to admit to what the fuck you did, we don't have shit to talk about" she tried ripping her arm away from him. This caused him to grip tighter. 

"I keep telling' yo' ass that ain't shit happen between me and that girl" His frown deepened looking her dead in the eyes. 

"She literally sent me screenshots of y'all messages!" Indya felt her temper slowly increase the longer he held her arm. She was beginning to become frustrated.

"Her ass could've faked those messages and yo' goofy ass sitting here believin' them!" He raised his voice slightly. 

Indya widen her eyes in shock. In disbelief of what he said. She pushed on his chest, finally releasing herself from his grip. "Explain the pictures and videos of y'all on FaceTime then Isayah! Do you think I'm dumb?!"

"Indya tread lightly on how you speakin' to me. This is your warnin'" He squinted his eyes her direction. This only fueled the petty side of her. No longer caring how she was making him feel. 

"I don't give a fuck, you ain't scaring shit over here. You can go be with that bitch and y'all both can be hoes together!" She turned to go up the stairs, but before she could, she was pulled back. 

Isayah wrapped a hand around the based of her throat, pulled her close which made her look up his towering frame. She slightly shuddered at the the look in his eyes. His eyes going completely dark, a mix of anger and lust lingering inside them.

"I done let'chu get fly at the mouth one too many times. Now it's time for you to listen to me" Indya was getting upset with herself for just how quick she submits to him. Knowing that this was the issue in the ever ending cycle of their relationship. 

First their good, then she catches him cheating, he uses his manipulative ways, he dicks her down and then the cycle starts over. 

He could see the wheels turning in her head. Knowing she was going to try to resist he quickly scooped her up, making his way up the stairs to their shared room. 

He plopped her on the bed, hovering over her. Placing both hands on the sides of her head. He leaned down placing kisses along her neck and behind her ear. 

Indya didn't want to fall into the same old pattern again. She took her hands, pushing against his chest. "Isayah we can-" her breathe hitched as he sucked on the spot right below her ear. 

Surely leaving a mark, he took one of his hands trialing down her sides til he reached the hem of the shorts she was wearing. His hands found their way in, brushing against her wet folds. 

Indya softly moaned, arching more into his touch. He entered one finger in her, groaning at how wet and tight she was. He leaned up to look her in the eyes, entering another finger. Indya moaning out as he quickened his movements. 

"What were you sayin' baby?" Indya couldn't make up any coherent sentences, as her core tightened. "You want me to stop?" When he didn't get a response he slowed down "Do you want me to stop?" his voice deepened. Indya eyes popped open looking at him.

She whined as she moved her hips, desperate for any type of friction. Isayah took his other hand, placing them on her hips to still her movements. "No I don't want you to stop" completely submitting to him.

Satisfied with her answer he pulled her shorts and underwear off, leaving her lower half completely bare. He removed his shirt, throwing it across the room.

He left wet kisses trailing down her chest and stomach til he was leveled with her intimate area. 

He skipped all the teasing, quickly latching on to her sensitive bundle on nerves, switching from flicking his tongue across it and slightly sucking on it. His fingers entered her once more. 

Indya loudly moaned at the double stimulation. She grabbed at the sheets on the bed, trying to ground herself. "F-fuck Isayah .. I'm cumming" 

Isayah sped up the strokes of his fingers. Hitting her spot continuously, Indya reaching her climax soon afterwards. 

Isayah sat up, cupping her chin with his hands "open up for me baby" Indya stuck out her tongue, knowing exactly what he wanted. He stuck his fingers in her mouth, letting her lick off all her juices off his fingers. Once she was done he brought her into a searing kiss, tasting her sweet essence. 

He pulled away looking her deep in her eyes. "Face down. Ass up. You better arch how I like it"  he stated in a commanding tone.

Indya wasted time doing exactly what he said. Arching her back just how he liked. Isayah let out a groan of approval, sending a smack to her backside. 

As Indya waiting in anticipation, she heard the soft sound of a zipper, as Isayah shredded the last bit of clothing, coming up right behind her. She felt Isayah glide the tip between her wet folds. 

He slowly pushed in, Indya moaning out as he stretched her out. He stilled for few moments to allow her time to adjust. "Fuck, you're so tight for me ma" 

Craving more, Indya moved her hips back. Isayah taking it as a sign, picking up his rhythm quickly. Indya screamed out as he practically fucked her into the bed. 

She brought her back against his abdomen, trying to slow him down. He quickly grabbed her wrist, pinning it against her back. "Ain't no running. You been talkin' yo' shit, talk it now" 

Indya couldn't think, her brain clouded by the immense pleasure he was giving her. 

"I-Isayah I can't!" she moaned out loud. Feeling that familiar burn in the pit of her stomach. 

"Shut the fuck up and take it. This what'chu wanted right" Indya moaned loudly, Isayah groaned as he felt her clench around his length. He knew she was getting close and stopped all movements causing Indya to whimper. "You don't get to cum til I tell you to"

Isayah grabbed her other arm, holding both in one hand. He rammed back into her, causing Indya to gasp loudly. Isayah's strokes were relentless. 

The only sounds throughout the room were their skin slapping together, "Fuck, look at'chu takin' it for daddy so well" He sent a smack to her backside, Indya moaning at the stinging sensation. 

"Baby I can't hold it," she let out a breathy moan, her climax being so close "I need to cum please" she begged desperately. 

Once again Isayah stopped his strokes abruptly, pulling out of her. He laid down, pulling her on top of him. "You want yo' nut, you gotta earn it" 

Indya straddled his waist, reaching back grabbing a whole of his length. She slowly slid down, both groaning at the contact. He took a hold of her hips, bringing her down more, engulfing all of him.  "S-shit"

Indya placed one hand on his chest as she slowly went up and down. She moaned at the new angle she was in. Isayah hitting a new spot. Indya threw her head back as she picked up the pace. 

"Who pussy is it" Isayah wrapped his hand around her throat "hmm, tell daddy who pussy this is"

Indya gasped, feeling that burn in the stomach "Fuck daddy it's yours"

She rotated her hips, earning a deep guttural groan from Isayah. "Fuck, you ain't leaving' me." He moaned out again, feeling his release brewing "Damn, you feel so good baby keep it right there." 

She smiled inwardly. Feeling a little motivated sped up her movement, the grip he had on her hips tightened. "Isayah I'm cumming" she whined out. 

Isayah felt her movements slow down, he sent another smack to her backside causing her to whimper. "Keep goin' and you better not fuckin' stop, daddy cummin' wit'chu" 

With his hands wrapped around her waist he assisted by moving her faster up and down. Indya let out a drawn out moan as she released.

Her released triggering Isayah's own, pulling her into a searing kiss as they both came down from their euphoric high. 

Indya woke up, feeling extremely groggy and sore from the events earlier. She groaned as she turned over, seeing Isayah still sleep. She heart feeling heavy, remembering everything that happened. 

She reached for her phone seeing she had multiple missed calls and messages from Sabrina and Tara. 

Bri🔥: Indya are you good? Bri🔥: I swear if something happened I will sliced tf out of that big ass Samoan idc Tara❤️: Girl you need to call us back. Tara❤️: Bri is going crazy over here. You better call soon or we're pulling up.

Indya quickly texted them both back, telling them that she was ok and that she would explain in a little bit. She noticed it was a quarter after midnight. She quickly but quietly got up, throwing her clothes from earlier back on. 

When she looked back at Isayah, she felt rage start to build inside of her. Many thoughts were going through her mind. Then an idea clicked. She acted quickly, going into the closet and started grabbing his clothes. 

She moved quietly, not wanting to wake him up. She walked outside going over to Isayah's Mercedes, stuffing the clothes in there. She repeated this process about 3 more times. She grabbed the keys, backing the car away from the house. 

She went back inside grabbing the bags she had already packed, putting them in her car. Turning towards Isaiah's car once more, she took a lighter out of her pocket, flicking it on. 

She hovered the flame over a piece of clothing til it caught the flame. Quickly spreading to other article of clothing. 

Indya stood there for a moment, staring at the flame. Feeling it burn away all the hurt Isayah has cause her, feeling a sense of calm. She was quickly token out of her trance when she heard noise come from the house. Knowing it was Isayah coming, she quickly got in her car, starting it. 

When she started backing up she saw him run out the house with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. 

He saw his car in-flamed, his eyes widening in shock and rage "Indya what the fuck?!"

"Have fun with that bitch!" She quickly pulled off as he tried running towards the car. 

Indya couldn't help but laugh but also cry as she felt the overwhelming feeling of freedom and her shoulders feeling lighter. 

She didn't know how she did it but she found herself pulling in to Sabrina's house. Grabbing her things, she walked up the short walk way, knocking on the door. 

The wait wasn't long, as Sabrina quickly opened up the door, staring at her friend. Eyes drifting to the bags beside her. Without saying a word she grabbed a bag, leading Indya in the house and to the guest bedroom. 

She turned towards Indya, stood in the middle of the room. Silently crying. She brought her into hug as Indya began sobbing on her shoulder. 

"I am here for you. I am so proud of you, finally choosing yourself" She let her cry on her shoulder for a while til she stopped. She pulled out the hug, wiping her friend's tears. "Get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning" leaving the room. 

Indya sighed, going into one of the bags, changing into a pajama set. She crawled in the bed, engulfing herself with the pillows and blankets, sleep finding her quickly. 

[1004tyun-archive]

mommy 🥺

i didn’t expect you to wake up so early at first but i had missed you so much so it was hard to think of an ask to send just her because my full focus was on you being here already mommy 🥺😭🩷

you’re probably sleeping rn and i hope you’re sleeping well~ i love you so much my sweet girlfriend ;///; 🩷🩷 you’re the best, i feel so good with you 🥹🥹🩷

today was so weird at first 😭 when i went to the train, a straight couple was in front of me and they were kinda like making out and stuff? in front of my salad? >< i was very embarrassed 😭 like… the guy even slapped the girl’s thigh… read this in professor oak’s voice there’s a time and place for everything but not now! 😭😭 fhsbfbdb

instead of thinking about that couple, i wanna say i’d love to get to hold hands with my girl 🥺🥺🩷 i often think of us kissing on the bench 🥹😚🩷 my mommy is the prettiest ever~

tonight we will be stretching together for the first time hehe 👉👈🩷 i’m excited to know what you thought of it and i’ll tell you if i feel better 🥺🩷

no moodboard because i saw this and i’m scared and i had to share with you mommy wtf 😳😖 is this gigachad taehyun????? omg 😭😭😭

i got some oreos with double cream for my lunch dessert to think about you 🥺🥺🩷 i definitely get why my mommy loves cookies and cream~ it’s so good~ 🥹🩷🩷

my sweet queen, my fairy of crystals 🥺💎🩷🩵 i hope you get to sleep well, and feel happy always 🥺🥺🩷 i wanna make my dear mommy happy 🥺🥺🩷 i love you so much 😚😚🩷🩷

reading through this entire ask had me like

WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN I SAW TAEHYUN WITH A BEARD AND SUDDENLY MY MEMORY WAS WIPED

okay allow me to gather my thoughts and shift back into mommy mode…

…

hello baby~ 🥺🥺🩵 my girl is so sweet and precious i didn’t expect to be up so early either but my cherry senses just have been tingling 👀🩵 i love you so much my lovely amazing girlfriend 🥺🥺 you’re the best~ i always feel so good with you too

… 😟 what the hell what is up with that couple??? in broad daylight? at the start of the day??? RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR SALAD????? the professor oak voice sjhshshs 😭😭😭

so excited to stretch together baby~ 🥺 i’m excited to hear your thoughts too and i hope this is something that works out well enough for us to do more often :3

cherry i gotta ask . what is thisjshshshs i understand that you were looking for pics on pinterest to make a moodboard but how did this out of all the images show up??? 😭😭😭 this scared the shit out of me when i first saw it and it scares me now honestly

is this taehyun’s final form? 🤔 his true gigachad evolution?? 🤔🤔

thank you for thinking of me baby that sounds so good~ 🥺🥺 cookies and cream is so yummy isn’t it? so glad i’ve brought you over to the dark side >:3 honestly i was a little disappointed by my ben and jerry’s yesterday so i might get my fave local brand of ice cream today instead since they make the best cookies and cream ice cream i’ve ever had 🤭🩵🩵

you always make me happy baby even with that taehyun jumpscare 🥺🥺🥺 my sweet girl~ i love you so much 🥺🩵🩵

[redhotarsenic]

Man imagine whining because I called you a moron when you’re in fact being a moron

[todayisafridaynight]

GLAD STREAM WENT SMOOTHLY THIS TIME had so much fun!!

BUT NOOOOOOO SOME OF YOUR FRAMING AND ANGLES REMINDED ME... We finished Hero recently so we rewatched Hero SP and watched the "sequel"… Hero SP is still my favorite thing to come out of it by far TBH but I was happy to see Nakai's character back in the latter [he's got this starting-to-grey beard, so Obviously I Was Thinking About Arakawa Aging In The Years Ichi Was Gone, and also he's smiling almost every second he's on-screen so I was :] ].

At the same time, because Takita's a Sympathetic Antagonist Who Went To Prison Returning In A Sequel… it put the fear of God in me with regard to Jo coming back because [spoilers </3] Takita's only in it for two-and-a-half scenes and he has cancer… I would say One Fear but again I have MANY FEARS when it comes to Jo and honestly MOST OF THEM are about not getting a satisfactory resolution [if there has to be one], like Aoki. I'd already made my peace with him not coming back at all in 2019 [2018 if I'm counting RGGJo]… pleeease don't do him dirty that's my emotional support shitty old bitch 😭😭😭

Extremely specific worries aside here are Nakai's dogs Kurumi and Pairan as promised :] Kurumi means walnut... if you even care...

STREAM WORKING MEANS I DIDNT HAVE TO PICK UP ICE FISHING YIPPEE !!!!!!!!

ABOUT JO THO AND HIS INEVITABLE-RETURN-BUT-UNCERTAIN FATE.... we can only wait... rgg wont let me in their basement anymore i cant leak secrets as to what could happen to him- at the very least i hope the rgg team understands people like satisfactory, Non Bullshit endings to character arcs.... so here's to hoping he gets that if possible :] if not uhhhh hope he gets the least cringe exit from the series :]]

BUT NAKAI'S DOGS HELLOOOOO THEY'RE BABIES I LOVE THEM HIIII !!!!!!! THEIR NAMES ARE SO CUTE PAIRAN AND CHESTNUT..... im ashamed to admit i already knew 'kurumi' meant chestnut.... as krillin's name from dragon ball derives from 'kuri'.... that doesnt make the name any less cute it makes them better TO ME (❁´▽`❁)

[geneviveleocardius]

dad’s got it covered

feat. simon riley

the soft clatter of pots and pans fills the kitchen as you stir the bubbling pot of pasta sauce. the warm aroma of garlic and herbs drifts through the house, mingling with the faint sound of the tv playing in the living room. amidst it all, your toddler’s tiny voice breaks through, high-pitched and filled with excitement.

“mummy, i want the braid! the one rapunzel has!” she calls from the couch, holding a toy brush in her small hands.

you glance over your shoulder, a small smile tugging at your lips. “later, sweetheart,” you say, your voice gentle but distracted. “mummy’s making dinner right now.”

there’s a pause, and then the sound of her humming to herself, followed by the occasional soft giggle. it’s enough to make you peek out of the kitchen, curiosity getting the better of you. what you see stops you in your tracks.

simon, your husband—your hulking, stoic husband—sits on the floor behind your daughter. his large hands, so used to wielding weapons and carrying the weight of the world, now work with a surprising delicacy. he’s carefully braiding her fine hair, his expression one of focused determination. your daughter is practically glowing, a radiant grin on her face as she chatters away, oblivious to how tender the moment is.

your heart softens, warmth blooming in your chest as you lean against the doorway, watching them. simon glances up briefly, catching your eye. there’s a flicker of something in his gaze—a mixture of pride and amusement.

“you’re lucky she doesn’t want the full rapunzel treatment,” he murmurs, his deep voice laced with dry humor. “i’d need a ladder.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “you’re doing great, love,” you say, meaning every word.

years pass in the blink of an eye. your little girl is no longer so little, and the house feels quieter, the once-constant chaos of toddler life now replaced by the rhythm of a teenager’s world. tonight, your daughter has a party to attend. she’d asked you earlier to iron her hair, a request you’d readily agreed to.

but somewhere between the dishes and the laundry, exhaustion crept in. you’d sat down for just a moment and fallen asleep. when you wake with a start, panic surges through you. you glance at the clock, your heart sinking as you realize how much time has passed.

“oh no,” you mutter, scrambling to your feet. “her hair—”

you rush out of the room, searching for her, guilt already gnawing at you. when you find her, the sight that greets you makes you stop short.

she’s sitting in front of the vanity in her room, scrolling casually through her phone. behind her stands simon, a flat iron in one hand and a comb in the other. his movements are slow and precise as he smooths out her hair, section by section.

your daughter barely looks up from her phone, her trust in her father’s meticulousness evident. but you can see it—the care in simon’s touch, the way he handles her hair like it’s the most delicate thing in the world. his expression is the same as it was all those years ago, when he braided her hair for the first time: focused, patient, and filled with an unspoken love.

your heart melts at the sight, the guilt dissolving into something softer, sweeter. leaning against the doorway, you smile to yourself, the memory of a tiny girl and a father’s careful hands blending seamlessly with the present.

“you’re amazing, you know that?” you say softly, your voice breaking the quiet.

simon glances at you, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a faint smirk. “just don’t expect me to start charging for haircuts,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but warm.

your daughter, still focused on her phone, rolls her eyes with a groan. “dad, you’re so lame.”

you laugh quietly, your heart full to bursting. watching them, you realize some things never change—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! (I’ve sent this before so ignore if you aren’t into it) just thinking about a bau!reader (maybe shy!reader??) who’s dating post-prison Spencer but didn’t know him before prison and she sees some footage of season one Spencer (maybe they need to refer to a recording of a previous case?) and she’s just dying at how cute he is 🥹

You’ve barely woken up with your face in a solid shoulder when Spencer’s turning around.

“Don’t,” he says when you whine, slipping a familiar hand over your hip. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Too early to make fun of me.” 

“Do you think I’m making fun of you?” 

His talking warms your nose where his head is angled down. Your skin smarts with goosebumps as he trails his hand lightly up your back, down again, the slowest, tumbling touch. You shiver, and Spencer, ever so slightly devious in love, says, “Oh, you’re cold?” with great pity as he pulls you closer. 

You rub your face against his shoulder. “Sorry.” 

“Why?”

“I smell.” 

He hums. “Sort of. Not like sweat, though. You smell like sleep.” His lips touch your cheek.

He lets you ‘warm up’ in his arms for a few minutes, then however long you doze for, lost and too comfortable to bother even trying to wake up properly. Your phone pings a couple of times after it comes out of sleep mode, a sure sign you’ve overslept, but Spencer doesn’t make you move until your stomach growls. 

“Come on,” he says, kissing your nose and slipping you back onto your side of the bed. “I’ll make breakfast.” 

“It’s nearly twelve.” 

“You just woke up, and it’s the first thing you’re gonna eat. You are breaking your fast. Breakfast.” He looks pretty even through achy, tired eyes, all the sleep crusted in your lashes no match for Spencer Reid. How you went so long without knowing him is a mystery. 

You get up only because he told you to and because he looked quite lovely when he did it, not because you want to. The bed is warm, that pit of his arms calling your name, but Spencer’s already rolling out of bed with an eager hand scratching through his hair. Sweat has made them tight and a little darker in the back. You’ll both have to shower at some point, preferably after he’s made you breakfast in bed. 

He can see your expectations on your face, and he laughs as he pulls a t-shirt on over his head. “Get up! I’m not bringing it up here, do you know how badly your sleep cycle is affected when you start doing the wrong things in bed?” 

“What counts as the wrong thing?” 

Spencer laughs again, softer now, and for a moment he traces your face with his eyes without speaking. “Fine,” he says, waving a hand at you as he makes for the bedroom door, “stay there. But only ‘cos you look so pretty!” 

“Thank you!” you call back. 

This time with Spencer isn’t enough. You need ten more years of this, thirty, fifty, you need to wake up in his arms and have him touch you and tickle your cheek with his breath. He’s too far to have him come back, so you resign to hugging him when he returns. 

Your phone pings again, drawing your attention finally. The first notification is a reminder to buy toothpaste today at the grocery store. The second is a text from a friend, the third an email. It’s one from last night that piques your interest, another friend, full capital letters: HELP. 

Her use of a laughing emoji defers any urgency. You click on the text thread and scroll up, puzzled by her previous messages, a link, and a caption: oh my god he was so dorky??? 

You open the video and feel your breath catch in surprise. 

Is that Spencer?

You're not stupid, you’ve seen photos of him and his friends together dotted around the apartment from over the years, and every time you come across that photo of him and Diana at a spelling bee with his huge black-framed glasses you have to laugh, but it’s different seeing him to hearing him. 

He’s so nervous. You can’t understand what it is he’s saying, something about mathematical components to profiling criminals. Jason Gideon stands in the background watching him closely. 

“There’s actually a good joke that–”

“Spencer,” Gideon reprimands. 

You watch in awe as Spencer stammers an apology, his cheeks a little pink. You’ve seen Spencer blush, but this feels different. He looks so young. His hair is straight as a pin. 

“Spencer, did you used to straighten your hair?” you call, hoping he can hear you over the sound of a frying pan popping in the kitchen. “Or do you have a perm now, or what?” 

“What!” 

“I’m confused on the logistics of your hair!” You feel something weird in your chest as on screen Spencer tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a mixture of wanting to eat him and wanting to reach through the screen to stroke his cheek with your thumb. 

Spencer treks back into the bedroom with his pink and white pinstripe apron over his shirt and sweatpants. He smells like cinnamon sugar already. “What are you talking about?” 

“My friend found a video of you and Jason at one of those lectures you did.” 

Spencer presses his lips together. For a moment, he doesn’t speak. “I didn’t do any lectures.”

“Uh, yes you did, liar, and you looked so cute.” You turn your phone to him. “So sweet.” 

He marches to the bed. Before you can stop him, he’s taking the phone from your hand, giving you the world's silliest, tiniest shove when you try to get it back. 

“Cruel,” you quip. 

Spencer stares at the phone screen, then you, “Sorry,” he says, turning pink, “I don’t know why I did that, just– I just–” He frowns deeply. “Can you stop smiling like that?” 

You climb onto your knees, a morning disaster, but when you wrap your arms around Spencer’s waist he looks at you like you’re perfect. His eyes soften, brows relaxing, his irises like dark dimes that slowly dilate as he looks you over. Your phone presses into your back, his arm wrapping around you. 

“You were adorable,” you say sincerely. 

“Not anymore?” 

You rub your cheek against his apron. “No, you still are. Let me watch the video again.” 

“Not a chance.” 

[chososdiscordkitten]

Are You A Chick?!

artist: @kcokaine_ on twt

Synopsis: Gojo gets turned into a woman for a few hrs and reader nd him get down to fun activities ^-^

Pairing: Fem!Gojo x Fem!Reader Content: established relationship, unexplained gender bending, GOJUSSY :D , wlw, use of his/her regarding gojo, fingering (f gojo receiving), oral (f gojo receiving), squirting (gojo), SCISSORING🤩✂️, dirty talk, god I love women

MDNI

You were lying on your shared bed, bored, scrolling on your phone, waiting for your boyfriend to come home from work. You were about to call him to ask why he was so late. Only you heard the front door of your apartment opening- bolting off the bed to greet him at the door. 

Halting your steps when you saw a smaller version of Satoru standing in the kitchen. 

Wearing the now oversized clothes you saw Satoru leave the apartment in that morning. You squint your eyes, scanning his face and noticing it was much softer. 

His jawline not half as sharp, poutier lips and a smaller nose- his face looked so similar, only it had a more feminine look to it. His eyes were the only thing that stayed the same- big and adorned with thick white lashes.  

“Don’t say a word.” Satoru spoke- his voice a higher pitch and with a suede purr. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, seeing Satoru reach out a much smaller hand than you expected- “Are you a chick?” you parted your lips- amused at how the blush started to rise on your boyfriend’s cheeks. 

Satoru huffed- a bitchy sigh with his hip popped slightly. “It’ll only last for a few hours.” you huffed- entertained at the feminine voice Gojo spoke in. 

Though he was usually taller and broader, his clothes were too large for his now more petite frame. 

You darted your eyes down to her chest- Small pebbles peaked beneath Gojo’s tshirt, his small breasts forming two tents beneath the fabric. Widening your eyes and realizing that this was real. 

“Can I touch them?” you asked, the corners of your lip curled up- thinking about how sensitive Satoru was generally. You wanted to discover how sensitive your boyfriend was in a woman’s body. 

Satoru scoffed- sounding just like you’d expect him to as a woman, bitchy and bordering on a bimbo tone. 

Your boyfriend shook off the oversized jacket- showing you just how much smaller he was now. 

Gojo furrowed his eyebrows- small and effortlessly perfect, pushing out her tits and looking at you with a pouty glossed lip. 

You reached your hands out eager to feel your boyfriends breasts. “Should I be concerned that the first thing you wanna do when I get home is feel me up?” Gojo laughed- a soft giggle coming from her throat. 

Scoffing as you placed your hands beneath Gojo’s braless tits, “If I came home the opposite gender- what would the first thing you do be?” you scoffed, Parting your lips and grabbing what you could from her chest.

Perky and no bigger than an A cup. But her tits filled your palms perfectly. 

Your thumb took an exploratory swipe at the little bud formed beneath the t-shirt. Earning a light, pretty huff from Satoru’s lips, flashing your eyes back up at him with a glimmer circling your pupil. 

You raised your eyebrows- a greedy smile forming on your lips at all the thoughts that raced through your mind. “Can I fuck you?” You grinned, watching the blush on Satoru’s cheeks deepen. 

It took very little for Gojo’s lips to snap to yours- feeling the petite woman before you trying to take the reins from your hands- but all it took was one little grope at her ass to make Gojo compliant. 

Guiding Satoru back into your bedroom with your hands roaming beneath the hem of his shirt- grasping at the soft skin beneath the fabric with pretty whimpers falling from her lips onto yours. 

Pulling away from Satoru’s lips when you settled him to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Her lips pulled to the side, a soft ‘tsk’ leaving them as Satoru looked up at you. “Why does it feel like you’re more into this than normal?” Your gender-bent boyfriend bitched at you as you slipped off your shirt. 

Placing your hands onto the sides of Satoru’s chunky cheeks, pressing soft kisses onto the puffy lips of her face and guiding her to scooch up the bed. 

You grinned, placing your hands on the edge of Gojo’s shirt. “What does it feel like?” changing the conversation as you pulled Satoru’s shirt off his body. Hanging your mouth open and seeing the sight before you. 

Not in a million years could you picture the portrait that was painted before you. 

Satoru’s bottom lip pouted, a roaming blush forming on her chest and pink hardened nipples greeting you. 

“Feels like I’m gettin’ pawed at.” Satoru scoffed, pressing her lips back onto yours and feeling your hands rest on his hips, dipping your fingers beneath the band of the oversized sweats and rolling them off. Feeling Satoru’s hands mimic the movement on your own bottoms. 

Only this time- compared to the hundreds of others, Satoru’s hands had a soft, delicate touch. 

Satoru had you pinned as he naturally did, on your back and your legs spread with her hips resting between them. Satoru tugged your bottoms off as his delicate lips moved against yours. 

Feeling Gojo do the same, leaving him bare and waiting for something to happen- trying to recall what he usually does whenever he isn’t a woman- trailing his smaller hands from your side to your inner thigh. 

You scoffed- “This isn’t about me ‘toru.” you smiled, pulling his hands from your thigh and intertwining your fingers with her slim ones. Looking at the soft expression your boyfriends feminized face held. 

“You don’t wanna know what it feels like for me?” you grinned, trailing the tips of your fingers against her rib cage- causing a shuddering exhale to leave his lips. 

Satoru bit her lip, feeling the warmth between her legs twitch from your offer. 

You trailed your hand between her thighs, reaching the drenched center Satoru had ignored between his legs till now. 

Watching her mouth inhale sharply, batting his white eyelashes closed as you lightly traced your middle and ring finger against her core. 

It took very little for Gojo to straddle your thighs, leaning an arm back and planting it on your calf. Giving you an unobstructed view of your boyfriends pretty, glistening cunt. 

As pretty and leaky as his cock was- this gave you a different kind of shiver down your spine from how fucking gorgeous he looked right now. 

Your hands rubbing softly on Satoru’s thighs, looking up to her shy expression. 

Satoru was a talker typically- teasing and being able to act on his horny threats just to make you blush. But now Satoru held her tongue, shy eyes avoiding your gaze. And squirming at the light grips you’d make against his thighs. 

And when her hips had ground down- instinctively as though you had cock for him. 

Or when your hands finally reached his pale inner thighs- you swore you could hear a slight shudder take the shape of a whimper leave Gojo’s throat. The prettiest sound you had yet to hear from him. 

He would let out pretty sounds generally, but this- this was something different. More defined, and less throaty. Almost as angelic as the pretty white lashes fanning over Satoru’s blushing cheeks. 

His hand urging you with a light squeeze at your thigh. When you finally traced the pad of your thumb against the little glistening pearl that you had neglected for what felt like an eternity to Satoru;

As though it was unwillingly, tossing her head back with a nibbled lip. Even the curve of her neck was fucking pretty. 

Dissolving into the feeling of your gentle thumb against his clit. His grip against your thigh turned to a squeeze with urge as you made more teasing circles against him with a hand on his pale thigh. 

Between a breathy moan, Satoru looked back to you- “It’s unfair that you get to feel this all the time.” she huffed as you applied a little more pressure to the sensitive nub. 

“Just wait till I make you cum-” you huffed with a smile, watching Satoru’s effeminate face churn with pinched eyebrows at your words. 

You raised your hand from his thigh- placing it flat, right where his womb would be. “Do you feel it building right here?” you asked in a murmur, looking up at your pretty boyfriend with amazed eyes. 

Satoru only nodded quickly- her plush lip tucked between pearly teeth and eyes closed. Your thumb making hastier circles and watching Satoru’s chest heave with eyes full of wonder.

Your hand traced to her bent hip, lightly squeezing at the malleable skin and watching the face Satoru made as you drew an orgasm out of her. The tips of your ring and middle finger circling at the taut entrance that seeped nectar. 

Satoru gasped when the pad of your thumb caught the very tip of his clit. Snapping one of his slender hands onto your shoulder as a brace. And your lips being right at the level of his perky tits- your lips parted and latched onto the puffy pink nipple on her chest. 

The whimpers that left Gojo’s throat were far too genuine- knowing how unashamed he was about them normally, the ones he let out now would be equally as unashamed.

Satoru’s lips parted in a small ‘o’- stuttering over every other moan as your thumb rubbed harsher circles against him. Your tongue lapped at the pebble of her nipple, sucking harshly to draw more pretty sounds from her lips. 

Gojo tried- she tried warning that they were cumming. As though some kind of mess would spew from him as it usually did. Only your hands didn’t care- neither did your relentless lips. 

With a choked moan- Satoru held his breath. His cunt clenching around nothing as the tips of your fingers felt the twitching his entrance made- as though she was trying to suck them in. 

Your eyes looked up at the pretty sight before you- parting your lips and throwing your head back. Watching with amazed eyes at the pale, shuddering shoulders that were graced with light goosebumps. 

Satoru’s eyebrows were lightly pinched, and her puffy lips parted- finally releasing the air trapped in his lungs with a pretty moan. 

Giving him a few seconds to shake off the aftershocks of his very first orgasm as a woman. Satoru trailed her hands to the side of your head, caressing gently and looking down with a peaked corner at her lip. 

“So unfair-” he whispered, leaning down and pressing a lazy kiss onto your lips as his hips ground down to your fingers. Your thumb made little to no movements as Satoru’s hips urged your fingers to press inside. 

And as bitchy and needy as he was as a man- You knew not to deny Satoru this now. 

Isolating your middle finger and pressing against Satoru’s soaked, taut entrance- a whimper between a breath leaving his throat and rumbling onto your lips. Lightly curling your finger until you hit a little nudge inside him. 

The little prod making Satoru pull away from you with a soft whine. Both of his hands now on your neck and arm- trying to find soothing in whatever his hands could grip. 

“More,” Satoru whimpered into the air between you- a high pitched upturn ending her plea. Your lips latched onto hers- drawing your finger from her soft walls and pressing it to the neighboring finger. 

Lazily kissing at the corner of her mouth, trailing kisses down to Satoru’s softer jaw. Pressing both of your fingers past her entrance- “So tight-” you murmured, feeling resistance from her walls as her hands gripped harder. 

Clearer whimpers and moans, leaving her throat at the light sting, your lips kissing down her neck- trying to find the sweet spot Satoru always allowed you to exploit. 

And when the tips of both of your fingers reached that same spot from earlier, the moan that left Satoru’s lips bordered on guttural- a high-pitched inhale followed as your lips found the sensitive spot of her neck. 

Suckling at the pale skin as your palm pressed flush against her clit. Satoru’s eyes fluttered shut as his hips started moving back and forth. Unashamedly rutting his cunt against the arch of your palm as your fingers lightly bumped into her gspot. 

Your lips formed a smile against Gojo’s skin- grateful of how pretty she sounded, almost like a hymn to your ears. Even more with the light squelches of his cunt frotting against your hand. 

Reaching your hand up her ribcage that flared with every sharp inhale she made. Lightly cupping her breast with a teasing thumb on the hardened nipple. 

It was too much for Satoru- overstimulating himself as his hips moved without instruction from his brain. The tingle of Satoru’s own gluttony formed in his spine as your thumb took a few soft swipes at his nipple. 

“M’gonna cum again-” she whimpered, as though it was you moving her hips against your palm. You pulled your lips from her collarbone with a smile. 

“Go ahead.” you instructed, tone far too deep and overindulgent as Gojo’s hips moved quicker- frotting her leaking cunt against you with a whimper. 

It was as though the pearly gates of heaven opened for Satoru as he felt another orgasm wave over her petite shoulders, his cunt clenching around your fingers. Barely able to keep his posture as she rode herself down- greedy hums leaving Satoru’s lips as you kissed at her chest. 

Using the hand on her hip to guide her to keel onto her side- landing on the bed with a pleased smile. Rolling onto her back as your lips planted gentle kisses on her sternum. 

Soft hums leave his lips as your hands spread his thighs. Tilting her head to the side and watching your shoulders rest between her flawless thighs. Placing a hand to the top of your head as your lips kissed at her thighs. 

“You’re so greedy~” Satoru hummed as your lips dampened small circles on her thighs- close to her glistening cunt, but still so fucking far. 

You let out a soft laugh, “I’m greedy?” softly caressing his outer thighs as she nodded against the pillows. Excitement reeling behind her cerulean eyes- so eager to know what it feels like to receive head as a woman. 

And as though her hand was urging you to finally kiss somewhere other than her thighs- you made a light lick from her perfectly displayed cunt up to her clit with a shuddering sigh leaving her lips. A groan left your lips at her flavor- as sweet as you expected her to taste. 

Your hands held Satoru’s hips, keeping them spread with her feet planted harshly against the bed. Your tongue made a few more kitten licks at her clit- hearing the desperation in every whimper that left her lips. 

Taking one of your hands and aligning it with her entrance again- right below your chin and slowly pushing them in. Your lips connect with the base of her clit with your tongue lightly swirling against the puffy nub. 

Your fingers moving with ease now- his cumt stretched just enough for you to start pumping your fingers. Satoru swore that his eyes would cross had he held them open- so he closed them. 

Thralling his head back into the pillows with a throaty moan- the hand on his hip moving up her side- gripping at Satoru’s breast with a light squeeze. 

Gojo’s back arching against the bed as your fingers prodded against her gspot. The whispers of overstimulation roaming up her spine once more as she felt another orgasm build in her womb. 

Only this time it felt different- His moans far too loud as your tongue made relentless swirls against her clit- your fingers bumping into her gspot at the perfect angle. 

“Wait-” Satoru inhaled sharply, his hips bucking up into your mouth as the knot in her tummy tightened. Nodding her head quickly as she fisted the sheets- knuckles turning white from how hard she was gripping. 

You looked up at Gojo, furrowed eyebrows and parted lips greeting you as Satoru whimpered. Threats of ‘I’m gonna—’ left her lips as you continued the mean movements. 

Satoru sat up slightly with a groan- your palm filling with spurts of liquid as your fingers continued. 

Loud mewls leaving Gojo’s throat as your mouth refused to stop- making sure to drain Satoru as the sides of your face became drenched with his squirt. 

“J-jesus fucking chri-” she called out in an exhale- her hips stuttering against your lips as you slowed your fingers. 

And when you finally got your fill, Satoru’s hands cupped the sides of your face and pulled you back up to him. A light moan vibrating onto your lips as she kissed you. Tasting her own slick and essence on your lips with every swipe her tongue made against yours.

Your hands groping at her thighs as Satoru pulled away from your lips- looking into your eyes with urgency. 

“Fuck me baby, please-” She whimpered into the air, desperately needing to feel you. In any way she could. 

You pressed your lips onto hers again, feeling her hand roam down to your bottom and give you a squeeze, the other cupping at your breast- noting that even as a woman, Satoru had wandering hands. 

In the split second after Satoru begged you to fuck her- you thought to the how. No strap- no toys at your disposal- but then you thought of the closest thing. 

Rolling over with Satoru in your hands- leaving you on your back with one of Satoru’s knees planted beneath your thigh. The other straddled atop your other leg.

Completely tangled between limbs as you pulled your lips from hers- Your bare cunt and his threatening to touch as she looked at you with curious eyes. 

You placed your hands onto her hips, looking into her bleary, cerulean eyes and guiding her down. A little whimper leaves your lips at the sudden contact of her cunt against yours. 

It took very little for Satoru to get the hint- planting her hands onto your sides and straightening her back. 

Taking a small nibble at her lip at the feeling of your clits bumping against each other. Looking down and watching at the small grinds he made- a small giggle laced with a moan leaving her lips. “Ffffuck, It’s like we’re kissing~” she grinned, causing you to let out a small laugh with an eye roll. 

Satoru reached for the back of your thigh with one hand, pinning it up slightly to give her a better access and a better view. 

Gojo tried starting at a slow pace- but the warmth radiating from your cunt onto his was undeniably tantalizing. 

Small moans fell from her lips as she started making unpatterned, sloppy thrusts against you. Uncaring if it wasn’t right- only that it felt good when his clit would bump against yours and the mixing slick of both your cunts making the filthiest shlops and squelches made him even more wet.

Her tits bounced with every desperate thrust she made against you, your hands holding a bruising grip at her pale hips, following every grind she would make against you. 

And when Satoru’s thighs started burning from the frantic movements- your hands led her hips into the frotting. Through gritted teeth- “Right here ‘toru-” you mumbled, Satoru taking over for your hands and humping against that very spot. 

Her face churned with pure, undiscovered pleasure as the mixed slick made it easier to glide against you. 

Shared moans reverberated off the walls before Satoru leaned down to connect her lips with yours, her breasts pressing against yours harshly. Keeping the same quick pace against your linked cunts. 

His tongue slotting against yours sloppily as moans rumbled against each other- hands gripping at anything they could find with his clit grinding against your own neglected one. Building your own orgasm as you hummed against Gojo’s lips.

One of your hands on her plump ass- gripping harshly with the other on her hip- and Satoru’s were gripping for dear life at your plush thighs- working himself through the overstimulation with soft groans against your lips. 

Splitting the kiss with a loud whimper- desperate hips rutting against you at an unbelievable pace as you felt the knot in your tummy threaten to come undone- “I’m cummin-” she whimpered before pressing her lips back onto yours. 

Your eyes tightened as Satoru worked you past an orgasm, back arching against the bed as Satoru crossed the finish line with you. Squirting whatever was left inside of her against your cunt. 

Huffing heavily through her nose as her hips slowed- Satoru’s grip on your thighs loosening as she felt the aftershocks roll through her shoulders. 

Easing your thigh down and feeling Gojo rest her body weight atop yours- just like he did when he was a man. Her lips sloppily moved against yours before pulling away- hazy eyes and pressing her chest further into yours with a pout. 

Your hands raised from her ass and rested on the soft skin of her back. Satoru raised her shoulders and looked into your eyes- almost troubled.

“What is it?” you mumbled, touching her cheek and caressing it softly with your thumb. Watching the pout deepen before parting his lips. 

Her breasts pressed against yours- “How do you know what to do with another girl?” Satoru pouted in a sad tone. You smiled softly, nodding your head and resting back into the pillows. 

“I did a lot of experimenting in college.” you hummed, Satoru following you and rubbing her nipples against yours unknowingly. 

Your eyes flashed down to your connected chests- “You’ll still like me when I become- me again, right?” She spoke softly- shy and stark in comparison to how he usually was. 

You pinched your eyebrows- “Course I will ‘toru-” pressing a soft kiss to her lips, “I can’t wait till you're back to normal.” you mumbled. Looking at the blush on Satoru’s cheeks deepen at your declaration. 

Satoru let out a dreamy sigh, squinting and looking down to where your eyes kept flashing. “S’like we’re kissing.” you smiled with a mumble, a small giggle leaving Satoru’s lips. 

She sighed, leaning her head back down to your shoulder, “Dunno how you get anything done if that’s what it feels like every time.” Satoru mumbled, closing her eyes and placing a hand on the side of your face. 

A half-laugh left your throat, “I would be all over you 24/7 if I was a chick.” he hummed, legs tangled against each other as your hand rubbed small circles at her back. 

“God knew not to make you a woman, you’d cause too much trouble,” you murmured, hearing a half conscious hum leave Satoru’s lips as she drifted to sleep atop you. 

That night you fell asleep with your girlfriend in your arms- soft, dainty and bare in your hands. Breathing softly with a feminine tinge in every exhale she made. 

And you woke up with your broad, far too heavy boyfriend in your arms. His exhales taking their usual throaty tone when he breathed them against your skin.  

Either or- it was still your Satoru. No matter what form he took, he was still yours. 

-

(a.n) this was so hot, I love woman, and gojussy. by the time you're reading this, ill be watching a medieval tournament👍🏽

[umehaji]

— 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓;

☾ Content: popstar f!reader much more famous than your pro volleyball player boyfriend- you finally hard launch your relationship on instagram but the public reaction isn't what you expect, so you take matters into your own hands

ft. Ushijima Wakatoshi, Hinata Shouyou, Miya Atsumu, Bokuto Koutarou, Kageyama Tobio

☾ A/N: inspired by dua lipa and callum turner and my girl sabrina

— 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢;

Ushijima doesn't even have an instagram, naturally. the closest thing is he's got is his team's account, curated and managed by the PR team. so when you wiggle your phone in front of him to show him the chosen piece for your account, he just gives it a cursory glance and nods. the photo is from backstage at one of your concerts earlier this month: you, glowing with joy, arm slung casually around his neck, leaning into him as you beam up at him with a smile that could light up your stadiums. he's got one arm wrapped securely around your waist, usual stoic expression softened by a warmth in his eyes as he gazes down at you- one that only you seem to be able to draw out of him.

but the reactions to your post are swift and crushing. you're beyond proud of Ushijima- proud of his quiet strength, his dedication, his raw talent. you know you shouldn’t and it shouldn’t—doesn’t—matter, but your thumb keeps scrolling through the comments. each one feels like a knife twisting deeper, a personal attack, particularly the ones suggesting he doesn't care, that he looks like he's got the emotional depth of a spoon, that this is all just a PR move somehow. watching the sweetest man you know not get the recognition he truly deserves hurts more than you want to admit.

ᯓ🏐

when Ushijima steps into your shared bedroom, shirtless, his hair still damp from a post-workout shower and sweatpants slung low on his hips, his gaze finds you sitting at your vanity. the soft light of the mirror highlights your delicate features, casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

"toshi," you greet him warmly, turning toward him with an inviting smile. he pads over to you, barefoot, and you tilt your chin up expectantly. he rests one hand on the back of your chair, the other on the edge of your desk and leans down, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, his head tilting to deepen it as he lifts a hand to your cheek, gently smoothing his thumb across your soft skin before drawing back, a small smile curving up on his lips when he sees the dazed look in your eyes.

"morning, love." he says simply, before walking off to the kitchen to make himself a protein shake. completely oblivious to the phone propped up against your mirror, the livestream on the screen, and the chaos that you've just unleashed within your fanbase.

readerfanatic_official joined popicon4life just fell to my knees screaming in the 711 parking lot platinum_readerstan she's dating a TREE tinyreader777 'morning love'???...our queen is built different i would've evaporated on the spot bipbop_23 ...i get it now readerfan2024 guess i'm into volleyball now glitznglamfan girl i'm scared for ur holes

— 𝐇𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐨𝐮;

it's a cute photo: the two of you on a beach at a resort, there for one of Oikawa's games. Hinata's got his head in your lap, one of your hands gently running through his messy orange hair while your other hand rests on his chest. you're gazing out at the sea, a serene smile gracing your face as you enjoy the view, while Hinata looks up at you, equally captivated by what he sees.

the comments that flood in are anything but kind. most of them poke fun at his height, with fans wondering how he managed to catch your eye when he's fighting gravity every day, others insisting that he must just be very funny. and it doesn’t bother Hinata at all, not that you can tell- he just scratches the back of his head and laughs, exclaiming that it's nothing he hasn't heard before, that he’ll just have to work twice as hard to earn your fans’ approval. ignoring your protests that he has nothing to prove.

ᯓ🏐

a few eagle-eyed fans are the first ones to notice it and not long after, screenshots of your activity start to circulate. first it's you liking an edit of Hinata lifting his shirt during ones of his games to wipe sweat off his brow. then it's a clip of him leaping into the air, showing off his energy and athleticism. a third like is a snapshot of Hinata celebrating a victory, fists clenched and knees bent, muscles in his thighs flexed as he roars with triumph.

the one that nips it in the bud is when you share a post to your story. it’s a reel- a compilation of Hinata’s spikes, his raw energy and unstoppable power lighting up the court as he slams the ball past his opponents. your fans lose it when you post a mirror selfie on the same day: you've got your back turned toward the mirror, all dolled up for an award ceremony in a gown that leaves nothing and everything to the imagination. you look good, accentuated by the man at your side who, unlike you, is facing the mirror. but Hinata isn't looking at the camera- his heated gaze is on your reflection instead. one of his arms is curved loosely around your waist, hand resting just above your ass.

the internet goes wild.

mvpmichelle8 2h 385 likes our girl is thirsting publicly on main i respect it robsessed247 2h 306 likes rip to her ass cheeks keanue_433 2h 243 likes ...what team does he play for again stanacctreader 1h 178 likes she got herself a short KING FR newvolley_98 1h 85 likes so when’s the next game where you get a front-row seat to his… spikes? 🥵

— 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮;

you don’t exactly share the photo yourself, but it might as well be yours. when Vogue posts the cover shot and tags you, it goes viral almost instantly. because Atsumu is seated in a luxurious chair, looking every bit like a king in his perfectly tailored suit, legs spread confidently, an air of dominance about him. you're perched on the armrest beside him, the slit of your black dress exposing the smooth curves of your body. one of your hands is loosely intertwined with his, resting on your thigh. the chemistry is palpable, electric. the sultry confidence in your posture paired with the intensity in Atsumu's gaze makes it impossible to look away. paired with the article about your relationship, this is a power couple at its finest.

or at least so you think.

the opinions of your fans are mixed, but those who disapprove don't hold back. they say that he must be cheating on you, that he looks untrustworthy, that his self-assured interview quotes only highlight how self-absorbed he is, implying he’s too consumed with himself to ever treat you right. Atsumu's ready to fight everyone questioning his devotion to you before you remind him that he can’t spend all day replying to hate comments- he has practice, and that you’ll handle it.

ᯓ🏐

you show up to the world championship that month with your entourage in tow. you visit Atsumu in his locker room to wish him good luck, ignoring the way his teammates trip over themselves gaping at you. he almost doesn’t let you leave, seizing you in a deep kiss that leaves you a little unsteady on your feet, but you plan a firm hand on his chest because you have places to be, a job to do.

when Atsumu steps up to serve and you watch as his routine unfolds, the familiar movements flowing effortlessly, your PR team is at the ready. his signature has evolved since his early days, the fist still a familiar gesture, but now his index finger uncurls at the last moment, pointing into the crowd. he doesn’t need to look; he always knows exactly where you are. but today, it’s different. you’re not in the shadows, hiding behind sunglasses or a baseball cap. today, you’re wearing his jersey, sitting front and center, in the best seat in the house. you’re clapping louder than anyone else, beaming so hard your cheeks hurt.

this time, when he finds you in the crowd, the whole world is watching.

Us Weekly: Atsumu Miya Makes History with Serve: Fans Go Wild over Major 'Couple Goals' Moment at the World Championship Buzzfeed: Is He Pointing to Y/N? 10 Moments Atsumu Miya Was Literally Screaming 'I Love You' Sports Illustrated: Atsumu Miya’s Serve Gets Personal: The Unspoken Gesture You Didn’t Know Was for Y/N Kyodo News: Fans Flock to See Miya Atsumu's Relationship with Global Sensation Y/N in Full View Cosmopolitan: Y/N and Atsumu Miya: From Music Charts to Volleyball Courts—Their Love Story (Exclusive)

— 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮;

what you think is a beautiful moment, your fans interpret quite differently. in the photo you post, Bokuto's strong arms are wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him as he hugs you from behind. his hands are positioned low on your abdomen, fingers spread wide and pressing down lightly, a playful gesture that has you squirming in response. the candid shot your manager took captures you in mid-laugh. you're tilting away from him, hands gripping his wrists, body twisted in a half-escape as though you're trying to dodge his ticklish touch. Bokuto's lips are pressed softly to the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder partly obscuring his face. his expression is partially hidden, but the corner of his mischievous grin peeks out, his eyes glinting at the camera as he looks up right at that moment.

your fans tear him apart, their words dripping with criticism- accusing him of being too touchy, claiming that you don’t want him like that, that he's too obsessed, too forward. the comments flood in, one after another, each one more biting than the last. the relentless stream of negativity cuts deep, and you can see the toll it takes on Bokuto as he scrolls on his phone with a downtrodden look. you tell him to ignore it, that he has nothing to worry about, but you can tell it does little to lift his spirits.

ᯓ🏐

you show him that night just how deeply you care about him, straddling his lap and gently cupping his face in your hands. your lips meet his in a soft, reverent kiss, a silent exchange that you hope conveys volumes. you murmur against his mouth, telling him how perfect he is, watching with a quiet smile as the tips of his ears go red. but then he shifts, flipping you over on the bed, caging you in with thick arms all while still blushing so prettily. and when you feel something hard and big pressing against your inner thigh, you wonder what you've gotten yourself into.

Bokuto goes even redder the next day when he wakes up to incessant texting from his teammates and he opens social media to find a photo on your feed: it's of him shirtless, lying on his front and cradling a pillow with his cheek smooshed into it, his hair down and expression peaceful. what's not so peaceful is the view of his bare back- red streaks running down his tanned skin, unmistakably from your fingers. the white sheets thrown over his legs obscure anything from the waist down but his face flushes deeper as he takes in the rest of the intimate scene.

you've got one hand resting gently on his head, fingers woven loosely in his hair, thumb caressing his cheek mid-stroke. it's soft, casual, possessive.

fan_gurl_4 1h 403 likes the way we thought HE was the obsessed one...how the turn tables bobfriend_76 1h 386 likes she's marking her territory glamjam69 1h 207 likes ...this ain't demure or mindful at all menin4k22 45m 146 likes ma’am for science, p-please remove those sheets readerfan234 14m 121 likes the way she's touching him...i need a moment to grieve 😩

— 𝐊𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐨;

the release party for your new album goes off without a hitch, and you score tons of cute photos with Kageyama, cuddling up to him that night to scroll through and select the best ones. your top choice is one of the more simple shots: you, with one hand resting on his chest, leaning into the arm he’s wrapped around your waist. his long fingers were hot against your skin through the delicate fabric of your dress, and you swear you can still feel the imprints of them. he's serious in the shot, his lips set in a stern line as he gazes into the camera, but you adore that look on him. especially when that same gaze shifts to you, hinting at something deeper, something darker, waiting for later.

your fans, however, don't see what you do. so you wake up to a barrage of comments, about how he looks boring, how he probably doesn't know a single one of your lyrics, how you could do so much better. naturally, Kageyama doesn't give a single shit as to what your fans think about him. just kisses you goodbye and heads off to practice, duffel bag slung over his broad shoulder. but you care.

ᯓ🏐

it takes a fair amount of convincing and a hefty dose of bribery, which somehow includes you securing an advertisement contract with one of Kageyama's favorite yogurt brands, but he finally agrees to appear in the music video for your latest hit. though, you can't help but think it had more to do with you casually hinting that your company had intended on pulling in one of the hottest actors currently on the scene, known for making girls swoon at meet-and-greets.

he plays a cop arresting you for a string of crimes you commit in the name of revenge on your cheating ex, culminating in him pushing you down in the backseat of his patrol car. it's hot, steamy, and when he shoves his knee between your legs, leaning over you with one hand pinning your wrists above your head, you won't deny that you make a mental note to recreate this scene later, without the cameras.

the music video shatters records and skyrockets to the top of the charts.

and the comments this time? well. they speak for themselves.

bops234 • 1 day ago this awakened something in me fando23 • 12 hours ago i'm going to need this man's @ immediately barkbarkbark_89 • 12 hours ago are we sure he doesn't want to switch career paths stanacctreader • 10 hours ago i thought he was just a plain slice of milk bread but boy was i wrong freedomsings145 1h • 5 hours ago casting your real life boyfriend as the main romantic lead in your music video is such a power move, as always our queen's taste is IMPECCABLE atsumumiya • 2 hours ago he looks like a foot

[gabseyoo]

PROOF — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

content: msby!kiyoomi, female reader, best friend!kiyoomi, pwp, cunnilingus, fingering, kinda best friends to lovers. word count: 2,7k.

note: this was supposed to be shameless smut but ended up being kind of romantic (?) just because a kiyoomi being in love with us is my sexual fantasy. also, i'm not satisfied with the ending, but i had no other ideas. maybe when i come up with something better ill change it, who knows :p

“Kiyoomi, do you go down on girls?”

The question took Kiyoomi off guard. You guys had spent the last twenty minutes in almost complete silence, just hanging out in his living room and completely ignoring the random movie you had chosen because you both were scrolling through your phones, which is why the last thing he expected to hear out of the blue was such a question.

He turned to look at you, who were lying across the couch with your feet resting in his lap and still staring at your phone screen. Not knowing what to say, a ‘huh’ was the only thing he could think of. 

“Just answer.” You poked his thigh with your foot. “It’s not like we’re strangers.” 

That was true. You two were good friends, practically best friends, and therefore, you both had full confidence in each other. But, you had always kept a limit when it came to talking about both his sex life and yours, to the point where that part of your respective lives was a complete mystery to each other. 

And this is a secret— but he liked it that way. Because he was more than sure that he didn’t want to know what you did with other men at all. Just thinking about it made his stomach turn with jealousy. That’s the reason he didn’t bother to tell you about his own experiences with other women either, just in case there was a small chance that you might feel the same way he did. 

“None of your business.” He answered sharply. 

You rolled your eyes before getting up from your comfortable position to sit cross-legged, “C’mon, Kiyoomi, It’s just a question.”

“A question I won’t answer.”

“Why not?” You crossed your arms, looking at him defiantly. 

Kiyoomi narrowed his eyes at your posture, why did you suddenly want to know that? Moreover, why did you insist on wanting to know? Did someone say something to you? Is there a rumor about him? Or maybe you had suddenly awakened an interest in him? He was overthinking, but still he hoped more than anything that it was the latter option rather than the others. 

“Just because.” He said, and before you could protest, he continued: “And, why are you asking anyway?” 

A smirk appeared on your face, “If you answer my question, I’ll answer yours. Deal?”

“Never mind.”

“You’ll never know why I asked, then.” You said, casually looking at your nails. “Unless we make a deal.”

He shouldn’t accept so easily, he knew, but now he was genuinely curious why you broke an unspoken rule between you two to ask him if he did orals, of all things. 

So, he agreed. “Deal.”

Your smile of victory almost made him smile too, but he did his best to remain serious. “Okay. Tell me.”

He sighed before answering honestly. “I do.”

Your eyes widened and an incredulous laugh escaped your lips before you said, “Really?” The surprise in your voice made him frown, why was that surprising? Should he be offended?

“Yeah.”

“Are you serious? You go down on girls?” You couldn't even hide the disbelief in your voice. “You?”

“I already said yes. Now, tell me. Why are you asking?”

Without further ado, you grabbed your phone that had been forgotten in your lap to unlock it, and a second later you were showing him what appeared to be your TikTok feed.

“A fan made a TikTok with the title: Ranking how good MSBY players are at giving head and you were raked as a zero just because he’d rather die than put his mouth there.”

What the fuck?!

“Let me see that.”

In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi snatched the phone from you to watch the video with his own eyes, regretting it as soon as it started thanks to the embarrassing selection of music and photos chosen from the team members. He scoffed, a random person on the internet had felt entitled to make this kind of ranking just based on appearances and assumptions. It’s not like they could have any real evidence at the end of the day. But it seems that for many people a video of this kind told the absolute truth, because it had thousands of likes and thousands of comments, and—to his misfortune—he couldn’t help but read them.

Now he wished he had never done it. 

In addition to most of the comments agreeing and mocking Kiyoomi’s ranking, saying that at least his face makes up for it and that maybe he gives head as long as he has his face mask on—that one was actually funny, but he wouldn’t say that out loud—, the other vast majority agreed that Atsumu and Bokuto were the best. 

But the question here is, did you think the same?

“You actually believe this crap?” He asked, actually sounding more hurt than he planned. 

“Kiyoomi, it’s just a TikTok. Of course, I’ll believe it.” You were obviously trying to make a joke, but still, the expression on his face showed pure disbelief. “I’m joking, jeez.”

“I know it’s a just TikTok, but I still want to know.” He sounded serious. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, perhaps thinking he was exaggerating, maybe he was, but he wasn’t offended by the fact that someone made that video, there were probably hundreds just like it. It was the fact that you, of all people, seemed to agree with an assumption about him and his very private intimate life. 

“Kiyoomi, I just thought it was funny. That’s why I asked.”

“But you didn’t believe me when I told you I did.”

“I did believe you.” He narrowed his eyes, showing that he obviously didn’t buy your words. “I’m not lying. I believed you, but— I was just… shocked.”

“Why?”

“It’s just that…never mind.”

“Tell me.” 

You looked him in the eye for a few seconds before sighing heavily.

“You’re… a little too special when it comes to cleanness and— where you put your mouth, you know?” You weren’t even looking him in the face, obviously nervous about the direction the conversation was taking. “I’m not judging you, we should all be careful where we put it. And, I just thought that… yeah” You waved your hand as you finished, trying to play it down. 

Kiyoomi couldn’t blame you or others for thinking that, after all, that was the kind of reputation he built for himself. But, even when he didn’t care what others thought about him, he always cared what you thought; for that reason alone, he wasn’t going to let you walk away with the wrong idea about him. 

“Yes, we should. But now you know that I actually go down.” He said, and, simply because he had a good feeling, he added: “And I’m pretty good at it, I can assure you.”

You scoffed. “Are you?”

“I am.” Confidence exuded in his voice, perhaps that was exactly why the next words came out of his mouth: “You want proof?”

What happened next was a delight to his eyes. 

You got fucking nervous, of course he noticed, you were his best friend after all. You widened your eyes, opened your mouth a couple of times in an attempt to say something but nothing came out. But what was a poem for him, was to see how you moved your hips slightly, in a movement that could have gone unnoticed if he hadn't paid all his attention to you. 

You cleared your throat as you looked away from his gaze. “I have no desire to ask your previous flings how good you are down there or watch any pornographic videos of you, so no, thanks.” You folded your arms as you sat up straight, suddenly finding the movie interesting. 

The room fell into silence, accompanied by a heavy tension that you two were obviously aware of. 

This situation was actually kind of funny. Thanks to a fucking TikTok, he now had an opportunity in front of him that he had been waiting for a long time. An opportunity he was going to take. 

“I wasn’t referring to that kind of proof.”

Three minutes later, you were lying on the couch with your head resting on a pillow, your pants thrown aside on the floor and Kiyoomi between your legs, spreading kisses across your belly. 

“This is weird.” You said, maybe in an attempt to break the intimate silence that had formed where only your breaths and his kisses could be heard. 

“It is.” He agreed before lowering his lips to your inner thighs, where he surprised you with a light bite that made you gasp. “We can stop if you want.”

You were quick to reply with a no and he smirked against your skin. Of course you didn’t want to stop, neither did he. Both of you by this point were already immersed in lust, even though it had only been a few minutes of foreplay.

When he was desperately taking off your pants minutes ago, Kiyoomi debated whether to just go for it or take it slow. 

But the moment he saw the longing in your eyes, how pretty you looked underneath him, he knew he would take his time. He didn’t just want to prove something to you; he actually wanted to taste you, to make you squirm, to make you enjoy this as much as he would. 

Gently caressing your thighs with both hands, he moved down until his mouth made contact with your pelvis, where he left another trail of kisses until he reached right where your clit was. Still above the fabric of your panties, he kissed you there, which was enough to elicit a moan of frustration from you.

“Please, just do it.” 

He kissed the same spot again before smirking. “Let me just go get my facemask, can’t do this without it.” 

His sudden joke made you burst into laughter which elicited a chuckle from him. “Don’t kill the mood.” You said as you gave a small pat to his hand that squeezed your thigh. 

He smiled and brought both of his hands to the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly. “At this point that’s impossible.”

“I know.” You muttered as you lifted your hips to let him remove the garment easily. 

As quickly as the garment hit the floor, Kiyoomi’s eyes focused on the middle of your legs, you may not have noticed, but the mere sight of your pussy glistening with your arousal made him twice as hard as he already was. 

“Don’t stare.” You said, trying to close your legs as much as you could since Kiyoomi was in the way.

No, no, no. There was no way for you to hide from him now, or ever. 

“Why not? You’re so fucking hot in all places.” 

Hearing his words, in an act of fluster, you brought both of your hands to cover your face, perhaps trying to hide how his praise made you feel. “You think so?”

The question came out almost in a whisper, and in response, he took both of your hands, interlaced your fingers and placed them on the sides of your head with the purpose of looking you in the eyes. 

“There’s no day when I don’t think that you’re hot,” He confessed, his voice deep and serious with the purpose of making you understand that he was not playing games. “Now that I just told you how crazy I’m for you, open your legs and let me make you feel good.”

You nodded, and staring at him with desire in your eyes, you opened your legs wide open again until that part of your body that he wanted to devour more than anything else was once again fully at his mercy.

Kiyoomi let go your hands and he lowered his body until his stomach made contact with the soft cushion of the couch. Now in that position, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, squeezing the flesh eagerly before dipping his head into the middle of your legs. 

“God.” You sighed, jerking your hips upward in surprise. 

He played slowly with his tongue, running it up and down before concentrating on sucking your clit. 

He was hard as fuck. Maybe more than he had ever been in his life. He even felt his tip leaking and was almost certain that if he started grinding his hips against the cushion, he could come at any moment. But he would save that for later. Right now, he was getting drunk on your taste and the sound of your moans. 

And fuck… those moans were heaven itself. 

He lowered his mouth, right at your entrance, where he began to lick gathering more of your juices before he deepened his mouth against your clit, sucking harder, quickly realizing that you liked it by the movement of your hips and the loud whimper that came out of your mouth. 

Kiyoomi was getting excited, even more so when he felt your hands stroking his head before pulling his curls, holding him closer to you, as if you were afraid he would break away, taking with him the pleasure you were feeling, but Kiyoomi wasn’t willing to do that, right now what he wanted most was you coming as hard as you could in his mouth. 

Hungry to increase your pleasure, he didn’t think twice when he let go of one of your thighs to stick a finger inside you, thrusting it in and out a few times before slipping another one in and curving his fingers to reach that sensitive spot inside you. 

“There, oh god, there.”

He would give you whatever you wanted, so he focused there. Feeling lovesick at this point. Loving the way you sounded. Loving the way you pulled his hair. Loving  the way your tight pussy squeezed his fingers. 

He moved his tongue back down to your entrance at the same time he pulled his fingers out, but only to start circling them over your clit. This is where you put a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, but Kiyoomi didn’t want that, he wanted to hear you come undone for him, no matter if it woke up the neighbors. So with his free hand he took you by the wrist at the same time that he separated his mouth from your sex.

“Don’t hold back those sounds, I want to hear you scream for me. Okay?”

You nodded. Too shocked to formulate words. 

“Good girl.” He praised before placing a short kiss on your wrist, releasing it a second later to immediately return to seal his mouth with your wet pussy. 

This time he put both hands behind your knees to spread your legs wider and pushed them against your chest, giving himself more room to continue devouring you, proud that you were no longer shy to scream with pleasure when he flicked his tongue, sucked and bit your pretty pussy. 

“I’m close. Fuck! Don’t stop, please.”

Kiyoomi wouldn’t stop, he was sure of that.

It was a matter of seconds when started to came in your best friend’s mouth. 

Kiyoomi kept licking, drinking up all your release until your legs began to shake from overstimulation. 

He gave a peck to your clit before gently letting go of your legs, settling them slowly on the cushion. He caressed your thighs as he left kiss after kiss on your belly, helping you relax as you tried to control your breathing after such an intense experience. 

You were lying there staring at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Perhaps processing everything that just happened, but Kiyoomi wouldn’t give you time for regrets, not now, not ever. He moved on top of you, resting his forearms on either side of your head and looked down at you, connecting your gazes before asking with a cocky smile on his face, “And? How was it?”

You let out a chuckle and rolled your eyes playfully before answering, “I think TikTok and I owe you an apology.” You said as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re definitely not a zero.”

“I’ll be happy with yours alone.” He said before lowering his face further until your noses brushed, “Your opinion is the only one I care about afterall.” He added before finally kissing you.

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader read thirst tweets

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

warning: a little bit thirsty, as expected <3

The cast settled into their seats as the crew finished setting up the cameras and lighting.

“Why am I more nervous for this than any of the other interviews?” Madelyn laughed, straightening up her dress. The cast had already done a handful of different interviews for the third season of Outer Banks, the famous (or infamous) “Thirst Tweets” the last on the docket.

“No I am too, babes.” Y/n said, shaking Madelyn’s leg playfully. The three girls, Madelyn, Madison, and y/n, sat in front chatting while the boys, JD and Drew, were getting their hair “refreshed” before they began shooting.

“Alright, so here are your tweets,” one of the crew members said, handing each of them a phone preloaded with tweets of varying degrees of horniness.

“Oh my—” JD started to shout, but was cut off when Madison elbowed him.

“Don’t start yet!” Madison giggled, resting her phone in her lap, a blush already rising in her cheeks.

“Ok, you guys good?” The cameraman asked, shooting the cast a thumbs up.

“Yes!” The five of them shouted in unison as the camera began to roll.

“Alrighty, take it away… Madelyn.” The secondary camera operator focused on Madelyn, who looked down at her phone.

“Ok, this one is pretty straightforward: ‘Madelyn Cline is a mother’.” Madelyn giggled.

“Not just ‘a mother’, ‘mother’.” Madison corrected, causing Madelyn to shake her head bashfully.

“Ok, ok, Mads you go.” Y/n said, elbowing Madison lightly.

“‘Madison Bailey please kiss me’...” Madison looked into the camera, a cheeky grin on her face. “Ha, ha… no.”

The cast laughed before returning to their phones, looking through their tweets.

“‘Jonathan Davis I am free tomorrow at 5 pm if you want to go on a date and hold hands! And… redacted, redacted, redacted’.” Jonathan read.

“Sounds… fun?” Y/n commented, glancing back at JD, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, ‘it’s true. Drew Starkey makes me go feral’.” Drew read sheepishly, his cheeks flushing. JD started to make some sort of animal noise, Drew joining in, the two of them playfully going “feral” behind the girls.

“Y/n, does Drew Starkey make you go feral?” Madelyn asked teasingly.

“Not in whatever way they were doing.” Y/n stifled a laugh, turning back to Drew, who shook his head with a grin.

“Ok, sure. You go, baby.” Drew said, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Alright…” Y/n scrolled, looking for a good tweet before continuing, “‘y/n is so fine, like please ruin my life I beg of you’. Wow, thanks I guess? For letting me ruin your life?”

The cast laughed before continuing back to their tweets, each of them feeling flushed and flattered by the very kind tweets.

“‘Before I watched Outer Banks I always classified the rich as annoying and vowed I’d never simp over one…’” Drew read, “‘until I met Rafe Cameron and flew up his ass like a bat’?”

“‘Flew up his ass like a bat’?” Y/n asked incredulously, her mouth agape.

“If somebody walked up to you on the street and said that to you…?” Madelyn asked Drew.

“Marry me.” Drew said nonchalantly.

“Drew, I need to ask you a question—” Y/n began, but collapsed into a fit of laughter before she could get the words out.

“Can I ‘fly up your ass like a bat’?” JD finished, making eye contact with Drew before the two of them moved in for a dramatic kiss, falling away just before their lips would’ve met. The girls let out surprised screams, grabbing onto each other before laughing.

“‘I love my boyfriend with all my heart, I truly do, but Madelyn Cline can sit on my face she’s so beautiful’.” Madelyn read, a small smirk on her face.

“Wow, that’s a lot… real.” Y/n said. Drew’s head whipped up, a look of confusion on his face.

“Is there something you need to tell us?” JD quipped, causing y/n to realize exactly what she said.

“No, no, no,” Y/n chuckled. “Madelyn Cline is very beautiful, but I am still very much feral for Drew Starkey.”

“You’ve got a thing for Camerons?” Madison asked, Madelyn and Drew leaning in with mischievous smiles on their faces.

“Yep, yep, that’s it.” Y/n laughed, nodding into the camera.

“‘Y/n is so beautiful, Drew Starkey can you fight?’” Y/n read with a chuckle, turning to look at Drew.

“Yes, yes I can.” Drew said into the camera, his face completely serious.

“Drew wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Madelyn clarified.

“Oh no, no, I will. Trust.” Drew raised his eyebrows, wrapping an arm around y/n’s shoulders before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The cast let out a collective “awww”, y/n giggling bashfully.

“‘Drew Starkey could rail me anyday. Respectfully’.” Drew chuckled nervously. Madelyn and Madison looked between each other, their jaws dropped.

“Once again, I’m flattered. But… that’s reserved for this one—” Drew grabbed y/n’s shoulder, shaking her playfully. Y/n immediately put her hands over her face, hoping to cover the flustered expression on her face.

“Oh my god.” Y/n mumbled into her hands, the other cast members bursting out into fits of laughter at Drew’s boldness.

“Alright, and cut!” The cameraman said, the cast letting out cheers as they got up from their seats. As they stood, y/n felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist before turning back to Drew.

“How you feeling, baby?” Drew hummed, grinning down at y/n cheekily.

“Flattered. Very.” Y/n giggled, pressing a kiss to Drew’s jaw.

“Well, a lot of those tweets certainly had some… good ideas.” Drew whispered.

“Starkey! You’re… too much.” Y/n felt her cheeks warm as Drew kissed her languidly.

“Am I wrong though, baby?” He teased.

“Let’s see when we get to the hotel.” Y/n said, stepping away from Drew and grabbing his hand as they made their way out of the studio… but she had a feeling they probably weren’t going to make it to the hotel.

[carnalcrows]

EX MARKS THE SPOT — THANOS

pairing: plug!thanos x male!reader

synopsis: After a messy breakup, you turn to Thanos, a dangerously smooth dealer in a suit, for more than just supplies—and somehow end up making your ex jealous while questioning your life choices (and his cologne).

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, drug usage, mentions of alcohol, myung-gi is reader's ex, marijuana, drunk sex, riding, shot-gunning, breeding, creampie, myung-gi is an asshole.

word count: 2.2k

A/N: this is hands down the funniest thing i've ever written lol. enjoy!!

Texting your ex always felt like poking a bear—pointless, frustrating, and dangerous. Yet, here you were, staring at a string of messages from Myung-gi, your recently demoted ex-boyfriend, as he passive-aggressively reminded you of all the things you’d ��lost” when he left.

“Good luck finding anyone who’ll put up with you. Or supply you. 😊”

The nerve. You could practically hear his smug tone through the screen, and it made you want to chuck your phone into the nearest body of water. This man had cheated on you, lied about it, and somehow still had the audacity to act like you were the problem.

You rolled your eyes so hard you swore you saw the back of your skull. Myung-gi might’ve taken his flashy car, his designer cologne, and—worst of all—his “supplier,” but there was no way you’d let him hold your good times hostage.

Still, it was hard not to get irritated. Myung-gi always had a way of making your blood boil while somehow convincing you it was your fault. He was like an evil mastermind but dumber, pettier, and with terrible taste in socks. (Who wears neon argyle with loafers? Seriously.)

You shoved those thoughts aside and scrolled through your contacts. A friend had slipped you a number a few days ago, prefaced with, “This guy’s the best in town. Professional. Discreet. Just… don’t piss him off.” You hadn’t planned on using it, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

You took a deep breath and typed out a message:

You: “Hey. Got your number from a friend. Need to talk.”

The reply came almost instantly, which was mildly unsettling.

Unknown Number: “Come to 10th & Main. 9 PM. Cash only.”

Straight to the point. No pleasantries. Not even a "Hello."

You hesitated for a moment before typing back:

You: “Cool. What’s your name?”

Unknown Number: “Thanos.”

You stared at your screen, blinking slowly. Thanos? Thanos? Like the purple guy from the Avengers? What kind of name was that?  Was this some kind of joke? You half-expected his next message to be something like, “Bring me the Infinity Stones,” or, “I hope you enjoy dust.”

A dozen questions raced through your mind. Should you be scared? Impressed? Concerned he might snap his fingers and wipe out half your neighborhood? You weren’t sure if you were meeting a dealer or the final boss of a video game.

After a long moment of contemplation—and a quick Google search to make sure “Thanos” wasn’t slang for something illegal—you decided to go for it. Worst-case scenario, you’d die in an alley, and Myung-gi would probably gloat at your funeral. Best-case scenario? You’d have a cool story to tell.

With a sigh, you texted back:

You: “Alright. See you then.”

Unknown Number: “Wear something cute.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he… flirting? With you? Oh, this was going to be interesting.

When you showed up at the alley, you immediately regretted your decision. Thanos was leaning against the wall, his lean frame illuminated by the dim, flickering streetlight. His head gleamed like a polished amethyst, and his piercing gaze locked onto you the moment you stepped into view.

“So,” he said, his deep voice rolling over you like a summer storm. “You’re the newbie.”

You swallowed hard, clutching the cash in your pocket. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

He pushed off the wall, his towering presence somehow even more overwhelming up close. His suit, far too nice for a back-alley transaction, clung to his broad shoulders like it was tailor-made.

“You guess?” he repeated, tilting his head with an amused smirk. “Pretty boy doesn’t know what he wants?”

Your brain short-circuited for a moment. “I’m here for… you know… the stuff.”

His grin widened, and he handed you a small bag of green nuggets. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m not gonna bite. Unless you want me to.”

Your face flushed, but you tried to play it cool. “Thanks,” you muttered, already turning to leave.

“Hold up,” Thanos called out, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you even know what to do with it?”

You hesitated, clutching the bag like it was a live grenade. “Uh… yeah?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Don’t lie to me, pretty boy. Come on.” He gestured for you to follow him, and before you could protest, he was walking toward a nearby bench under the dim streetlight.

You trailed after him, curiosity outweighing your embarrassment. He sat down, pulling out a rolling tray, papers, and a grinder like he was some kind of cannabis sommelier.

“Watch and learn,” he said, his hands moving with surprising finesse as he broke down the green nuggets and ground them up. He sprinkled the freshly ground product into the paper, rolled it up with precision, and sealed it with a quick lick.

“There,” he said, holding up the perfect joint like it was a masterpiece. “Now you try.”

“I—uh—I don’t know if I can…”

“You can,” he said firmly, pushing the supplies toward you. His large hands hovered near yours as you awkwardly tried to mimic his movements. Your fingers fumbled with the paper, and you could feel his amused gaze on you the whole time.

“Here,” he said, reaching over to guide your hands. His touch was warm, steadying. “Like this. Don’t roll it too tight. You want it to burn evenly.”

You felt your pulse quicken as his fingers brushed against yours. By the time you managed to produce something vaguely resembling a joint, you were red-faced and flustered.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” he said with a chuckle, lighting your creation and taking a slow, deliberate drag before handing it to you. “See? Not so hard.”

You took a hesitant puff, coughing immediately, which earned a laugh from Thanos. “Easy there, sweetheart. No need to impress me.”

As you recovered, he leaned back against the bench, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re cute when you’re trying too hard, you know that?”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you just focused on not coughing up a lung.

Thanos grinned, watching you with that same predatory confidence. “Don’t be a stranger, pretty boy. You’re fun.”

A few days later, you found yourself at a house party you didn’t even want to attend. The music was loud, the drinks were cheap, and the pool in the backyard looked way more inviting than the sweaty chaos inside. You’d planted yourself there, floating in the shallow end with a Bacardi in hand, silently regretting your decision to show up.

And then, of course, he appeared. Myung-gi . Your ex was lounging by the pool with his new girlfriend—a painfully perfect, Instagram-model type who looked like she’d never experienced a bad hair day. He was laughing loudly, probably for your benefit, his arm slung around her like he wanted to rub it in your face.

You downed the rest of your drink in one go and muttered to yourself, “Great. Just great.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

You turned at the sound of the deep, familiar voice, and your jaw almost hit the water. There, standing at the edge of the pool, was Thanos. He looked unfairly good—white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark slacks that hugged his thighs in all the right ways, and that same smirk that made you question all your life choices.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice coming out more surprised than accusatory.

He crouched down, his golden watch glinting in the moonlight. “Got invited. Seems I’m more popular than I thought. But seeing you here? That’s a bonus.”

Your face heated, and you quickly looked away. “Well, enjoy the party.”

“Not until you stop sulking.” His gaze flicked to Myung-gi and back to you. “Ah. That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“You’re sitting here like a kicked puppy because of him.” He gestured toward your ex with a tilt of his head. “Pathetic, honestly.”

You bristled. “I am not sulking.”

“Sure you’re not.” Thanos chuckled, then slid off his shoes and rolled up his pants, stepping into the pool like he owned the place. The water rippled as he waded closer, stopping just a foot away. “Wanna make him jealous?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” He leaned in slightly, his smirk downright devilish. “We could give him a little show. Something to really stew over.”

Your heart raced. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He cocked an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You glanced over at Myung-gi . He wasn’t looking now, but the idea of wiping that smug grin off his face was very appealing. You turned back to Thanos, who was watching you with an expectant look, and something in his confidence made you throw caution to the wind.

“Fine,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “Let’s do it.”

His grin widened. “Atta boy.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, Thanos closed the distance between you, one hand cupping the back of your neck as his lips met yours. The kiss was anything but subtle—his mouth moved against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless, his other hand gripping your waist as if to anchor you to him.

The water lapped around you, the sounds of the party fading into the background as you lost yourself in the moment. His lips were soft but commanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp.

You vaguely heard the sound of spluttering from the side of the pool, and when you opened your eyes, you saw Myung-gi standing there, his face a mixture of shock and rage.

Thanos pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing against yours as he murmured, “Think he’s mad yet?”

You glanced at Myung-gi , who looked like he was about to explode, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, he’s pissed.”

“Good.” Thanos grinned, pressing another kiss to your lips, this one slower, almost teasing. “Serves him right.”

By the time you finally broke apart, Myung-gi had stormed off, dragging his bewildered girlfriend behind him like a kid throwing a tantrum in a grocery store. You barely noticed, too caught up in the heat of the moment and the rush of adrenaline coursing through you.

Thanos leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “You’re welcome.”

“For what?” you managed to ask, your voice a little shaky as you tried to play it cool.

“For reminding him that he downgraded,” Thanos replied with a smirk, his thumb brushing a stray drop of water from your jaw.

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He tilted his head, his piercing gaze making your pulse quicken. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Before you could come up with a witty retort, he reached out and took your hand, pulling you out of the pool with an effortless strength that left you momentarily flustered.

“Come on,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, rich and enticing. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

You hesitated for half a second before nodding, letting him lead you away from the crowd and the noise of the party. Your heart pounded as he guided you down a dimly lit hallway, past closed doors and muffled laughter, until he pushed one open and gestured for you to step inside.

The room was cozy and dim, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. As the door clicked shut behind you, the weight of the moment settled over you, thick and electric. Thanos leaned back against the door, his smirk softening into something more genuine.

“You good?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

You nodded, your breath hitching slightly. “Yeah.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible, and as his lips found yours again, all thoughts of Myung-gi —or anyone else—faded away.

You didn’t know how you ended up in this position. Or maybe you wanted it to happen. The booze and the weed had certainly gotten to your head.

Thanos was puffing on a blunt while you rode him, bouncing up and down on his cock with fervour.

“That’s it my boy…Taking it like a champ,” he mutters, the praise going straight down to your dick.

The hand that wasn’t holding the blunt was wrapped around your waist, guiding your hips on his length. He slowly took in a slow drag of his blunt while locking eyes with you, his dark orbs stained with red from all the substance. It certainly was a sight to see.

He pressed his mouth to yours, shot-gunning the smoke straight to your throat as you inhaled. You had gotten slightly better with the weed by now, so thankfully, you didn’t start coughing all over the place.

Your pace on his dick slowly sped up, you were at the brink of an orgasm. “Fuck… cum for me baby,” Thanos groans as his grip on your waist tightens. He takes another long drag of his blunt, before handing it to you.

You feel the scent of the herb hitting the back of your throat, and with that, you climax all over the purple-haired man’s stomach with your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Thanos releases soon after, painting your insides white.

You bask in the after-glow of mind blowing sex, lazily leaning forward on Thanos’ shoulder. The click of the doorknob alerts the man, who looks at a fuming Myung-gi and his still-confused girlfriend (the poor thing).

“Rise and shine my boy, I think we have an audience~”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[seumyo]

husband!bakugou thinks you’re a hypocrite

Photo albums are a way to physically preserve memories. Memories that should’ve been buried with the past—forgotten as the years go by.

Thankfully, Mama Mitsuki lent you Bakugou’s old photo album when you mentioned it in passing. A thick photo album that had “Katsuki Memory” in its title and even a design of a cartoonish bomb, finished in this beautiful silver and gold. Fancy for a baby album, but they could afford it, so you didn’t have much say.

Your husband’s sprawled across the bed with his head in your lap, scrolling through his phone, absolutely oblivious to your scheming.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Bakugou grunted, not looking up.

“You were… Katsuki, honey, the light of my life—you were such an ugly baby.”

That got his attention. He set his phone aside, sitting up immediately. “The hell?”

You turned the album toward him, pointing at a grainy, slightly overexposed photo of newborn Katsuki. His face was scrunched up, red and wrinkled, his head oddly shaped from the ordeal of birth.

“I mean, look at you!” you said, unable to keep your laughter contained any longer.

He snatched the album from your hands, staring at the photo in question. “Tch, all babies look like this.”

“No, they don’t!”

“Yes they do!”

“Kats, I love you, but I’ve seen plenty of newborns, and most of them are at least kinda cute. You, though? You look like a grumpy little potato that just got yanked out of the ground.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his ears turning red as he tried to defend himself. “I just got born! Give me a break!”

You doubled over with laughter, clutching your stomach. “Certainly born with a face that only a mother could love.” A face that you also loved.

“Alright, that’s enough!” he barked, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He closed the album with a loud thud and tossed it onto the nightstand. “You’re lucky I don’t blow that damn thing to bits.”

“Your Mom would be devastated. I would be too.”

“Shut.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your laughter dying down. “I’m sorry, hun. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting that. You’re so good-looking now, but baby Katsuki? He was… something else.”

Bakugou crossed his arms, glaring at you like a sulking child. “Bet you weren’t some perfect baby, either.”

“I was adorable; thank you very much,” you shot back, sticking out your tongue.

“Show a picture or you’re lyin’.”

You showed him a newborn picture of you, and that shut him up. Bakugou had lost the battle and the war—because the gods must have a favorite.

“Fucking unfair,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. You looked so cute and small. Who knew this little spawn would be his wife someday?

You leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Hey, ugly or not, you’re my grumpy little potato, and I love you.”

He grumbled under his breath, but the way his hand found yours and squeezed it gently told you he wasn’t really mad. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t tell anyone about this, got it?”

“No promises.”

Bakugou grunted. Fucking perfect.

-

“Awe, look at him, Katsuki,” you murmured, brushing a gentle finger across your son’s chubby cheek.

The little boy was fast asleep, his tiny fists curled in his adorably tiny mittens near his face. His resemblance to Bakugou was uncanny—he had the same spiky tufts of blonde hair and a natural pout that made your heart melt. The chubbiness of his cheeks was a bonus, seeing that a healthy son was all that you could ever wish for.

Bakugou sighed quietly, his attention drifting to his son. “Tch. ‘Course he is. He’s my kid.”

You chuckled, glancing at him. “I mean, yeah, but he looks just like you. I can’t believe it.”

“Why can’t you believe it?” He can’t help but ask.

“Because,” you began, your voice dropping into a joking tone.

“Remember when I saw what you looked like as a baby? And, well…”

He narrowed his eyes. That again.

“Don’t start.”

“I mean it, though. He’s adorable. He even has your pout.”

Bakugou leaned forward, resting his arms against the crib, although not putting his entire weight on it. “Yeah, and? You callin’ me cute now?”

“Maybe. But only because you look better now than you did when you were fresh out of the womb.”

“Hypocrite,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re sittin’ there, gushin’ about how cute he is,” he said, gesturing toward their son. “But when it was me, you couldn’t stop talkin’ about how ugly I was. And now you’re all, ‘Oh, he looks just like you!’ Make up your damn mind, woman.”

You bit back a laugh, careful not to wake your baby baby boy. “Okay, fine, maybe I was a little harsh about baby you. But come on, Katsuki. He’s the improved version of you.”

“Improved, my ass. He’s just like me, end of story.”

“He got my eyebrows, that’s for sure. See? Improved version.”

“You have a problem with my eyebrows?” He scoffs in mock offense, crossing his arms.

You leaned toward him, a playful glint in your eye. “Well, if he grows up with your temper and your attitude, I’ll definitely know where he got it from.”

“And if he grows up teasin’ people to death like you, I’ll know where that came from,” he replied, though there was no real heat in his words.

You both fell silent for a moment, your eyes drifting back to your son. The little boy shifted in his sleep, letting out a soft coo that made your heart swell—like it could burst any moment now.

“Hun,” you said softly, your teasing tone gone. “He really is perfect, isn’t he?”

Bakugou leaned closer, resting a hand on your shoulder as he gazed down at your son. His usual sharp expression softened into something almost unrecognizable—pure, unfiltered love.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “He is.”

You looked at him, smiling. “You’re going to be such a great dad, you know that?”

“Tch. Of course,” he muttered, though the redness creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I’ll be the best dad the world has ever seen.”

...

“Just… don’t let him see my baby pictures in the future, got it?”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

For now, anyway.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[felixbit]

chestnut

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader w. 0.8k genre: comedic fluff summary: your boyfriend, hyunjin, comes home on christmas day from sbs gayo daejeon after surprising you with a new look. he's shaved his hair and gone blonde. warnings: reader mourns the long hair but is very supportive. playful teasing a/n: this is literally just how i'm coping rn

New year and comeback season always meant new looks and fresh things. However, this was not expected.

You were at home, as always. Christmas was a busy day for Hyunjin, away at SBS Gayo Daejeon performing and looking pretty for the cameras. It was routine, but you always enjoyed tuning in and seeing the talent from him and his group as they performed.

There was a red carpet to unveil looks, but you were preparing some food for dinner that night. Things were getting hectic in the kitchen and time passed you by.

But your phone started to buzz. And buzz. And buzz.

Unable to ignore the repeating notification noises, you stopped what you were doing to figure out what had your phone blowing up. Notifications from posts and texts from friends... what was happening?

Everyone was talking about Hyunjin. As normal as it was for him to get the world's attention, the sheer amount of notifications was concerning. Something was obviously going on.

So, you opened your feed. It didn't take more than a single scroll for the picture to hit your timeline. On the red carpet, looking sharp and stunning, was Hyunjin. Beautiful outfit, many piercings, eyebrow slit fresh.

Oh, and his head was completely shaved and dyed blonde.

You stared at your phone in shock for what felt like forever. The two second clip of him looking stunning for the cameras replayed over and over as your brain tried to pick up the pieces.

You knew he wouldn't have his phone on him and able to look at it for a bit, but that did not stop you from blowing up his texts. Nothing outrageous or upset, but a lot of spammed questions and confusion got the message across pretty well. It was the least you could do.

Reeling from the overwhelming knowledge of your boyfriend's look, you decided to put your phone down and get back to cooking. You had to take your mind off of it or you might go insane.

The whole time, all you could think about was him. How drastic it was, how hot he looked, the whole bit. Hwang Hyunjin was taking up your entire mind.

Any task that you tried to do seemed impossible to entirely focus on. Every moment had you wanting to grab your phone and scroll, finding every possible photo of him. Hyunjin being a world-famous idol did not make this any easier.

Giving in, you resigned to doom scrolling. If you weren't able to focus, you wouldn't get anything done. Might as well just drool over how good he looks, you thought.

When he finally got done with the show, he was able to text you back briefly. He returned your texts with spam of his own, a bunch of apologies and letting you know when he'd be back.

Waiting for him to come home seemed impossible. The performance that the group gave was phenomenal as always. However, nothing could prepare you for seeing the look in person. Time passed dreadfully slow.

As you had finished up dinner, you heard the door swing open. You turned around to see Hyunjin out of breath. He waved to you, a shy smile on his face as he hung up his coat and took off his shoes. He approached slowly, looking uncertain.

"Do you... like it?" He finally asked, his voice shaky and small.

Staring at him for a few seconds, you smiled and nodded. "Of course I do, but why didn't you tell me?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise! A Christmas gift, you know?" Hyunjin tried to explain, breathing still heavy from running, "I thought it was a really big change, and I was worried you'd say no."

You looked at him incredulously. "Why would I say no to you wanting to try something new?"

"I... don't know." Hyunjin climbed into a chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he fully caught his breath.

You watched him for a few moments, quietly observing his new look for yourself. He looked stunning, his sharp features accentuated by the new hair and the piercings grabbing your eye.

Although, you had something on your mind. "Oh, your poor hair," You lamented jokingly, "If you had warned me, I would've cherished it more if I knew it was the last time I'd see it."

"Aish, you'll see it again," Hyunjin groaned, standing up and looking at you, "Just not for a while."

"You better grow it back out," You retorted, walking over and running your fingers through his soft, short hair.

Hyunjin grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "We'll see."

"Hwang Hyunjin."

"Okay, okay, sorry."

As you plated your dinner with him, you looked over and snickered. "God, you really do look like a chestnut. Changbin was right."

"What did he call me?" Hyunjin scoffed, "I'm not a chestnut."

"Chestnut, dumpling, flour boy. You're becoming the real grocery list."

"I am not!"