#she looks like someone who owns a Lot of pillows and also struggles with back pain

[slingbats]

some headcanon stuff a little bit, I'm pretty sure her natural hair is either shaved or veryyyy short but I couldn't imagine she'd do anything without wearing some kind of head covering so I didn't actually depict this at all you'll just have to trust me teehee

[lastoneout]

It's also like super fucking infuriating to see people continue to argue that generative AI is the best way for disabled and/or poor people to make art because like, you know what helps make art more accessible? Giving poor and disabled people money.

Like take me for instance, I'm disabled. I get severe migraines and intense leg/back pain if I sit at my computer for too long, my hEDS makes holding pens and pencils hard, my ADHD makes it hard for me to start certain tasks and/or stop them before I potentially hurt myself, my neck also hurts if I look down too much, my dyslexia AND my ADHD both make it difficult to keep track of a story as I write and use correct spelling and grammar, plus, I need to prioritize taking care of myself and going to appointments and keeping my house clean and that takes up a lot of my free time. All of these things make creating the kind of art I want to create difficult if not occasionally impossible.

So what do you think would solve my problems better? Giving me money so that I can have a drawing tablet and desk chair that won't hurt my neck or back, another tablet + pen and a lap table and comfortable body pillows for drawing in bed, easier transportation to my doctors appointments, effective treatment for my chronic pain and migraines, the ability hire someone to help me keep my house clean, a spelling/grammar checker that isn't complete ass, and a therapist and psychatrist who can help me manage my ADHD better?

Or an AI program that takes my input and spits out a drawing or story made of stolen content glued together that, in the case of the art, I cannot meaningfully edit without starting over, which also destroys the environment in the process?

Seems pretty obvious to me. I don't need AI, I need help to manage the things that are actually stopping me from being able to write and draw.

Or take my mom. She's had severe rhumatoid arthritis since she was a small child, her hands are deformed and she relies on her wheelchair to get around. She doesn't need AI to help her paint, she needs special paint brushes she can actually hold, a table her wheelchair will fit at, and someone to help her with personal hygiene/keep her house clean/take her to doctors appointments so she actually has free time to paint.

Does that poor kid growing up in public housing with parents who are too poor to afford art classes or supplies or to send them to college really need a computer program to draw for them, or do they need support to help them take those classes, buy drawing supplies, and money so they can go to college.

Blind people can paint, deaf musicians exist, people with missing limbs find all sorts of ways to make art, people with parkinson's paint with typewriters, my mother can't hold a normal paintbrush and she makes some of the most beautiful watercolor paintings I've ever seen, Van Gogh had bipolar disorder and only sold like one painting when he was alive, I mean for real how many different artists have you heard of who's biographies start with them being born into poverty?

This is not meant to be inspiration porn, these people are just ones who were able to find ways to make art despite their struggles. They shouldn't have had to struggle at all, but god imagine how many more artisrs and writers we could have had if none of them had to overcome those struggles. It breaks my heart to think of all the wonderful art that never got to exist because no one helped the people who could have made it actually have the time, money, support, and safety they needed to make it. AI would not have saved them because making art isn't the problem, being disadvantaged is the problem. Living in a world that refuses to make room for you is the problem. Being fucking poor is the problem. Humans have always found ways to make art despite huge barriers, the solution isn't a computer that makes art for them, it's SUPPORT AND MONEY SO THEY CAN OVERCOME THOSE BARRIERS AND MAKE THEIR OWN ART.

As a last example: I love watching dancing and I would love to be able to dance, but I'm terrible at it(I got kicked off a dance team for not being able to learn the dance at all despite spending weeks on it, idk my brain wasn't made for dancing) and my disabled body makes it more pain than pleasure if not actively dangerous, anyway. Having a robot dressed to look like me dance next to me while I get to watch would not make me feel like I'm getting to dance. It would actually be extremely fucking demoralizing and frustrating. I would hate that!!

Having an AI spit out a painting or book would not make me feel like I got to paint or write a book. It's a fucking anamatronic doll running on stolen ideas and it will never be the same as getting to actually expirience the joy of creating art first hand. AI is not the solution. Helping people who need it is the solution. And I am CONSTANTLY pissed to think about all the time and money that goes into these fucking AI programs that would be better spent helping disabled and poor people get the help they need so they can make art themselves, all while the people running the nightmare plagiarism pollution machines pretend that their horrible inventions exist to help people like me.

[squarebracket-trickster]

Happy STS! Hopefully without spoiling too much, talk about a side character you'd love to write their own story for

to be honest, I don't really want to write a story for any of the side characters in my current WIP. I don't even want to write a sequel for Isadred's story. My goal with this story was to write a standalone with a simple plot and I have taken great pains not to allow myself to let it spiral out of control. I think the narrative I have written explores all of these characters as much as I want to. It's not that I don't find these characters interesting, it's just that it is the way their personalities mesh with the themes and plot of this story that makes them so. I developed the story first, then the characters to serve it. I can't really see them outside of it (or at least, such a story would not be as fun for me to write). I don't consider these my favourite or more memorable of my OCs; this WIP is more about the story (all the elements coming together) than anything else.

However, I do have side characters in other WIPs that I ended up creating stories of their own for. The most egregious of these offenses would have to be a character named Darius in a science-fantasy paracosm of mine which inspires content for my WIPs 1 and 3 (I number them until I can think up a good name; they are numbered in order of when I first came up with them). Darius was the crown prince of a neighbouring empire who I hadn't really developed beyond giving him a name and saying he had gorgeous, shoulder-length hair.

One day, just for fun, I decided to give him a romance. I created a character named Sylah to be his girlfriend (eventually). Sylah is not considered a human being under the laws of Darius's empire; her ancestors were engineered in a lab to supposedly be ideal slaves. It is a commonly held belief that she and those like her are incapable of making their own decisions and having original thoughts. When she and Darius first meet they are both somewhat innocent teenagers who have internalized much of this propaganda and are struggling to break free of it. It takes these two many years to actually get together because they both have a lot to unlearn before they even begin to see each other as more than "acquaintances committing treason together... who also occasionally sleep together".

Darius was the side character I chose to explore, but hilariously it is Sylah who has become one of my four favourite OCs of all time. She's a little vibrating ball of spite and sweetness, and she will stab you with a triangle blade and twist it while making eye contact. Their romance is the favourite I have ever come up with.

Sylah first confesses her love to Darius like (@macabremoons I'm including this because I know you're gonna love this<333):

Morning sun kisses the silk sheets a warm gold. The room is still save Darius's light, steady breathing beside her. Between priceless paintings, the windows are streaked with the bright orange of sunrise--Darius's favourite colour. Sylah sometimes wonders whether it is because of that night, the one where they stayed up until the dawn glowed above them dancing to old music from Earth on the balcony in the rain. She could care less about the silk and the paintings, but whenever someone asked her what she fought for--what she wanted her future to look like--she often had to stop herself from blurting, sunrises with Darius. "Fuck," Sylah whispers under her breath. Darius, his eyes bleary with sleep, rolls his head to her with a silent question. "I think I'm in love with you, you jerk." Sylah smacks him squarely with a pillow. Darius falls back asleep with a heavy sigh.

[aranyasaeli]

[ nychaa nuttanicha, cis woman, she/her ] - was that ARANYA SAELI i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the TWENTY-SIX year old who has been in nightrest for HER ENTIRE LIFE and works  as a/an TWITCH STREAMER has a reputation of being AFFECTIONATE, but also NAIVE. they reside in STOUGHTON ESTATES & people in town usually associate them with TRENDY, GIRLY CLOTHING BOUGHT FROM AN ONLINE SHOP, THE SCENT OF VANILLA, LATE NIGHTS AWAKE AND ONLINE, & AN AURA OF INNOCENCE let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next.

BASIC INFORMATION:

FULL NAME: Aranya Saeli

NICKNAMES: Ari

DATE OF BIRTH: July 1st, 1998 (26)

ETHNICITY: Thai-American

FACE CLAIM: Fah Yongwaree

HAIR & EYE COLOR: Dark Brown

HEIGHT: 5’4”

TATTOOS & PIERCINGS: a few small tattoos, belly button piercing

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

OCCUPATION: twitch streamer

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: english & thai

BACKGROUND:

the youngest of her family, aranya would likely describe her upbringing as peaceful and loving. her mother was an art teacher at the very high school she attended, and her father owned his own law firm. both of her parents, in addition to her older brother, were seen as academically intelligent, a trait that wasn’t necessarily passed on to aranya. it wasn’t that she wasn’t smart, it just tended to take her longer to learn things, and she’d always found it difficult to stay focused on school.

in high school, she was popular, largely due to the fact that she was seen as a sweet, beautiful cheerleader that just wasn’t very bright. her heart was very pure growing up, and she often just saw the best in people and struggled to see when people would take advantage of her naive nature. 

despite her image in school, the only real interest she had in a career was in gaming. video games felt like the only thing that really kept her attention, and aranya began streaming on twitch while she was still in high school, largely gaining a following for her looks, and later for the fact that she was actually good at what she played.

her parents weren’t initially supportive of her choice to not go to college and decide to become an internet personality, but they eventually came around when they saw it was something she loved. though her family had always been upper middle-class, aranya’s following brought her into money that she’d never seen before, securing partnerships and brand deals along the way. for her twenty-fourth birthday, she bought a house for her and her family in stoughton estates, wanting to give back to her parents for supporting her dreams.

HEADCANONS

has been getting tattoos recently, loves the idea of having pretty art on your body so she tries to make her stuff thought out

yes she is inspired by pokimane ok zont come for me. started streaming seriously around the time fortnite got big and became one of the biggest girls playing the game at the time which gained her massive amounts of followers at a young age

she says she’s grown and become less naive compared to before but she really does still see the best in people, and is the type to fall for people’s tricks

very innocent and very slow at times. will not get your jokes so get ready to explain them so she can laugh

big life of the party gal!! wants everyone to feel included and have a good time

smiles. a lot. is a big lover. loves love and everything about it and will fall in love with someone without realizing it. gets very invested in her relationships even if they are short-lived

very much the type to let people step all over it and then laugh about it in public like haha no biggie but then go cry into her pillow at home.

secretly worries that people still view her as the dumb pretty girl. she’s not very book-smart but likes to think she makes up for it with street smarts and good people skills

lives on takeout, cannot cook. do not let her in a kitchen ever. she’s nice and will offer to cook but all you will get is something burnt im sorry

very trendy and into fashion. as an online shopping addiction for sure

WANTED CONNECTIONS

ummm u know like all the stuff (besties, friends, exes, flings/hookups, childhood friends, ppl that think she has rocks for a brain, etc)

[mareenavee]

The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 22: Deep Down in Darkness

22nd of Morning Star 4E 202

For reasons Nyenna couldn’t quite figure out, Teldryn had returned to her room at some point in the night, even though he’d been renting the one right next door. He was still asleep on a bedroll on the floor as she gingerly stepped around him to gather some of her things for a bath. She could have sworn she’d locked the door when he’d left…but she couldn’t exactly remember. She’d had a lot on her mind, though. She’d also slept straight through the intrusion, which didn’t look great on her part. She really didn’t want to seem like someone who still needed protecting.

Eris would have been furious if he was still here. There was far too much that could have gone wrong. She thought back to one evening in the slums of Arenthia, early on in their flight. She’d been separated from him briefly in a crowded inn, and someone had pickpocketed her key to their room. That night was the first time she’d actually seen Eris kill anyone up close – and it had been almost soundless. Almost no struggle at all. He’d been sitting at the table in the corner, and the thief hadn’t known she’d been accompanied. It was over before Nyenna could scream. And they’d fled by the cover of shadows, leaving the thief sitting in the chair, light gone from his eyes, for the innkeeps to find the next morning.

She closed her eyes against the thought. At least this time, it’d just been Teldryn. She went to pick up her comb off the desk and noticed a rusty iron lockpick sitting next to his helmet. She sighed heavily. He’d mentioned the Thieves’ Guild. But it still didn’t explain why he’d come back here. There was no need for it.

“Get up,” she said in utter irritation, nudging his elbow with the side of her foot. He grumbled and turned away from her, pulling his blanket up over his head. She stepped over him and threw her pillow at him. He made an indignant noise and sat up, looking at her blearily.

“Excuse you,” he muttered and yawned.

“Don’t break into my room if you don’t feel like being woken up at dawn,” Nyenna quipped. She tossed the lockpick he’d left out over to him, which he almost dropped.

“It’s not even dawn yet!” Teldryn complained. He fell back onto his bedroll dramatically. “It can’t be!”

“Stop whinging,” she sighed. “You did this to yourself. Why are you even in here, anyway?”

“It was too quiet without all the snoring,” he hissed, scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Snoring!?” she balked. She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled angrily.

“Yes. You snore. Nobody told you?” Teldryn said through another yawn. He stood up and stretched, cracking his back and rolling his shoulders.

“No. And not a single bit of this makes any sense to me at all,” Nyenna said. “Would the sound not wake you up or bother you?”

“I’m not great at falling asleep in general. The silence makes it difficult for me,” Teldryn complained.

“That doesn’t give you leave to pick my lock and sneak around like a criminal,” she huffed. She turned on her heels. “Also, you’d managed all this time before I got here. Continue to do so.”

“Whatever you say, sera,” Teldryn muttered. She looked over her shoulder as she went to pull the door closed behind her. He was grinning stupidly to himself as stooped to put away his bedroll. She left in a rush and almost collided with Geldis. -> Keep reading on Ao3!

[radiant-reid]

Wish You Were Sober

A/n: so, this is an AU because I love the song, and I love Conan, and I wanted to write a fic about it and I also love fuckboy!Reid. He could have been the douchiest guy in Caltech if he wanted to and no one can convince me otherwise. additionally, i know Caltech doesn't have frats but for the purpose of this, they do

Summary: Being in love with Spencer is exhausting when he only admits to his feelings for you when he's drunk

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst/Fluff)

Content warning: heavy alcohol consumption

Word Count: 6.9k

Masterlist Navigation

College can be exhausting. Even when it's not exam season and classes aren't too difficult, the parties, socializing, and friendships are attention-demanding.

It was always essential for Y/n to fit in. After high school, Caltech felt like a fresh start. Somewhere away from home where she could grow up into herself. A reinvention and a chance to be free.

The friendship-making started on her first day with her roommate, and then anyone the more extroverted girl chatted to. Y/n was grateful someone was there to make the introductions and get the invites to parties because she would have struggled on her own, and there was no one that made friends as quickly as Alexis did.

Lexi immediately gravitated towards Mason, who was somehow- and Y/n didn't exactly know how- involved in her ex-best friend's life in high school, who was a package deal with Miles, Spencer, and Ethan, and Y/n quickly discovered that being around them was always entertaining.

Even though the ordeals of their freshman year, all six of them managed to remain friends. Other people came in and out of their lives separately and as a group, but nothing stopped them from being friends.

Sophomore year only made their bond tighter, and Lexi and Y/n stayed sharing a dorm. They all saw each other almost every day, a rare feat according to other friend groups around campus.

Like a lot of afternoons, when Y/n got back to her room after classes, she could hear all five of them from Lexi's adjourning room. "Y/n, hey." She waved through the doorway as Y/n put her things down on her desk.

Once she was done, she walked into Lexi's room, noticing Mason's arm wrapped around Lexi's shoulder-an eyebrow-raiser- Miles and Ethan on the couch, and Spencer sitting on her desk.

Her room was more decorated than Y/n's with lots of pillows, a big tapestry, and a small fridge, hence why they all usually hung out in there.

"Hey, everyone who didn't have class." Y/n quipped, knowing most of them were probably still meant to be in class.

"Spencer here already finished the course," Ethan informed her, slapping his friend's back proudly. Y/n knew they were friends from back home in Vegas and they'd known each other for years.

Her mouth dropped wide open as she stood in the doorway. "No fucking way, the whole undergraduate engineering course?" Spencer looked up at her with his big brown eyes, pretty smirk, and chiseled features. He nodded at her, hair flopping up and down. "Unfair." She complained, but the statement was about everything regarding Spencer.

Not only were his smarts unfair, but he was gorgeous, easily the most gorgeous person she'd ever seen. Even his a-typical choice of clothing- collared shirts and dress pants- added to how charming he looked. It just wasn't fair that he was beautiful and intelligent. And now, it wasn't fair that he was finished with the class she was enrolled in, and she wouldn't get to daydream while looking at him

"If you need any help with it." He offered. Oh yeah, as if he couldn't get any better, he was kind, kinder than any 19-year-old boy she knew.

Mostly...

"Thanks." She smiled, trying not to blush too much.

Lexi, hitting Y/n's arm, drew her attention away from Spencer. "We need to plan your birthday party."

"Why?" Y/n complained, throwing her head back. She was being bugged about it for a week, but she'd hoped Lexi would forget it. "I'm turning 20, that's not exactly significant."

"It took 20 years and 100,000 slaves to build the Great Pyramid of Giza, which is the largest and oldest pyramid in El Giza." Spencer pipped up, joining the conversation with one of his odd facts. It really wasn't a surprise that he could finish a degree so fast when he retained random facts like that.

Lexi nodded at the information, clearly not as interested in it as Y/n was. "It's also, what's his name's birthday?" She asked, turning to the guy when his arm slung around her shoulder.

"Logan," Mason filled in the blank for her.

"Yeah, you know him, right, Y/n?" She asked, looking up at her friend.

Y/n didn't. At least, not really. She'd heard his name but all the faces of frat guys tend to blend together after a while. "Yeah, sure." She answered.

"Well, you just so happen to be birthday twins, and I just so happened to convince him to let you in on the celebrations." She announced the plan.

"It's a frat party, Lex, everyone's invited," Y/n stated, wondering if her friend had forgotten that obvious fact.

"Especially since you're girls," Miles added in before going back to his conversation with Spencer, Mason, and Ethan about basketball.

Lexi looked up at Y/n with big pleading eyes. "They're getting a massive cake and it'll have both your names on it. Plus, their frat house is awesome."

She sighed loudly, demonstrating her annoyance. Lexi's appeal as a friend was because of her hyper-social nature, but it had come back to bite her. "Okay, Lex, and thank you."

"Yay!" She squealed, springing up and wrapping her arms around the other girl. "We've got to go dress shopping, like, asap."

"You have class this afternoon." Y/n reminded her, mostly because she didn't want to go dress shopping.

Lexi threw her hand in the air nonchalantly. "Chem sucks, I can skip it."

"How did you actually get into Caltech?" She wondered, joking with her best friend.

"Still not sure." She answered, frowning for a moment. Checking over her shoulder to make sure the boys were still occupied, she pulled Y/n into her room: a clear sign some gossip was about to happen. "Okay, so your little genius boy's done with Engineering now and he's doing a masters so he can get his doctorate, but he's starting a chemistry degree."

Y/n's mouth dropped open again in astonishment before her brain caught up. "He's not my little genius boy." She emphasized, rolling her eyes at the subtle teasing. "If the word on the street's worth listening to, he's everyone's above-average genius boy."

Still, there was more gossip to come. "Most recently, Soraya, I heard," Lexi revealed the newfound information. "Mason told me."

Y/n didn't want to comment on the Spencer news, and she was thankful Lexi gave her a way out. "Yeah, what the hell is going on with you two?"

"Oh, just some drama with the ex-best friend, ex-girlfriend." Lexi answer, waving her hand around at the unimportance of it all.

"Sounding a toxic way to start a relationship, Lex," Y/n warned, not trying to scold her friend.

Lexi gave her an annoyed look, probably proving the point her friend was trying to make. "Not more toxic than being in love with someone with two opposite personalities."

"I'm not-"

Her defense quickly got interrupted. "Yo, are you guys coming to lunch or what?" Ethan asked, peeking his head around into the room.

Lexi linked her arm with Y/n, any feuding words between them a distant memory as they walked out of her bedroom together. "You guys eat like machines," Lexi commented, punching her maybe-boyfriend's arm.

The party came too soon for Y/n's liking. It wasn't that she hated going out, it had become what she was accustomed to a few times a month, but it was her birthday and she would have preferred a nice dinner with her friends, a movie, and some snack.

Like any good party, it had a theme: Princesses or Princes- an amendment that was quickly made- and Superheros. Although it wasn't her first choice, Y/n ended up in a glittery, tight, yellow dress that reached her mid-thigh. With enough makeup for backstage of Milan fashion week, Y/n and Lexi were leaving their place.

"No, you didn't!" Y/n squealed when they got onto the street, and a limo was waiting for them.

"I didn't," Lexi assured her. "But a frat guy who's keen on you did, and I let him."

She was definitely proud of herself and Y/n wasn't going to argue so together they got into the limo, letting it drive them the short distance to the frat house.

It was already loud. Even loud for a college party. The blaring hip-hop was too loud outside of the house and she didn't want to imagine what it would be like inside, but she quickly found out.

There were people everywhere, even outside, and there were even more of them inside. It was hot, too, no doubt from everyone's body heat.

After only being there for a few seconds, an arm was slung around her shoulder, and a drink was placed in her hand in a pink solo cup. "Hey, birthday princess." It was the birthday boy himself, grinning at her with a drunk smile.

"Nice outfit," Y/n commented, glancing down at the Superman boxers that Logan was wearing. Only Superman boxers. He fit all of the conveniently attractive boxes with his muscular figure from all the time he spent playing football. Apparently, he also had no shame, and if his reputation was anything to go by, he was the funny guy.

"I'll let you take them off me." He offered, winking at her to match the bold statement.

She was used to it, well, as used to it as one can be. "I'm not drunk enough for that." She bit back, knowing they all love it when you're mean to them.

"Drinks are over there, princess." He informed her, nodding into another room. "Find me when you've had enough."

Charming. "I will not take you up on that," Y/n assured him, nodding like she wasn't rejecting him.

"I got you a gift." He told her, removing his slightly sweaty bare arm from around her. In his other hand, where she hadn't been looking, was a gold crown and a red sash.

She then noticed he also had a crown on, a matching one. "Best gift I've gotten today." She proclaimed, mainly to inflate his ego. Who said she couldn't flirt with him for harmless fun?

"Mm, not until-" He was cut off by someone standing in front of them. "Yo, Reid, what's up?" Logan asked, clasping his hand and pulling him into a bro hug.

Spencer. In an extravagant blue suit with ruffles on his sleeves and around the neck. He'd clearly put a lot of work into his hair, and it looked like a founding father's, but it was kind of attractive.

Why everyone continued to call him by his last name, she didn't know, but it started when someone-someone stupid-assumed his name was Reid Spencer which wouldn't have been stupid had it not been written 'Reid, Spencer.' Now it was just what he went by.

"Sup, man," Spencer replied, his eyes locking with Y/n's. He might have been the first guy all evening not to stare directly at her tits. "Nice necklace." She glanced at the little rose charm, smiling at the fact he'd caught that little detail. "And happy birthday." He remembered before snapping out of his staring and turning back to Logan. "To both of you."

"Thanks, dude," Logan replied. "C'mon, they're doing kegstands outside." He said, tipping his head to the side. "You've gotta remind us all why you're number one."

Spencer gave her a little wave, turning with Logan to walk outside. "It's all about the attitude..." She caught just a few words as they walked away. For someone so intelligent, Spencer didn't always do smart things.

Then she stopped thinking about him, walking through the house to find someone else to talk with after she dumped the pink solo cup that Logan had given her.

It wasn't a bad party, probably one of the best she'd been to. There were enough people she knew for her to talk to and people she didn't know who came up to her, wishing her a happy birthday.

She was talking with some girl- Stacy, maybe- when she was forced to think about Spencer again. It came in the form of catching his eyes while he stood at the end of a table. There were cups in a triangle form in front of him, all 10 of them still there.

He looked unfairly pretty with the darkness and neon lights around him. And his eyes were locked on hers, ignoring the girl who Y/n knew to be Soraya beside him for a second.

He threw his head back with a white ball bounced into one of his cups, his Adam's apple becoming more prominent. Y/n couldn't hear what he was saying, but he leaned over to speak into Soraya's ear before she picked up his cup, drank a bit before holding it to Spencer's pretty pink lips and pouring the rest down his throat.

"You know, I heard he once bet 10 guys in a row, like not getting new cups." Stacy, or maybe Sara, informed her.

"It's the Math and Engineering degrees," Y/n mumbled to her.

Stacy, Sara, or Shelly nodded, clearly ready for more gossip. "I heard he's hooking up with Lexi-oh shit, I guess you already knew that, though."

Y/n had to consciously stop herself from having a noticeable reaction to the news. Her blood ran cold, and it was stupid because Spencer wasn't anything to her but a friend. Surely, Lexi wouldn't... maybe she would. "I'll have to ask her to confirm that one." She tried to joke, and it got the drunk girl laughing, but she couldn't bring herself to.

They talked for a while longer before they both got dragged away to talk to other people, but her thoughts were on Spencer and Lexi all night.

The evening wore on, her shoes were too tight, the alcohol was too warm, her friends had started to disappear, and the music was starting to give her a headache.

With Logan searching for her, it was time to get out of there. There were just too many people, so the best way she could think to leave was out a bathroom window.

In a tight dress, it was difficult, and her eyes snapped up from trying to maneuver herself when the door twisted open and a certain prince slipped inside.

"Spencer, what the fuck? Why are you in here?" She asked, sounding mad.

"I can pick locks." He casually informed her. Of course, he could because that was a completely normal skill.

Y/n still didn't move from her spot, eyes boring into his. "And what if I was peeing?"

He didn't look concerned, just shrugged and stood there. The perfect hairstyle that must have taken him a long time to do had become unkempt over the course of the night. "What are you doing, princess?"

She huffed at him, getting down from the window since it was really uncomfortable. "That's not my name."

Never did he refer to her by name, just some form of sarcastic nickname. Lexi tried to claim it as proof, which would be believable if he said it with a smile and not a smirk.

"Is it Soraya?" He taunted, tipping his head down to look at her.

"Shut up." She quickly replied, huffing out of her nose furiously at him.

Spencer chuckled at her, that stupid smirk that she wanted to smack on his face. He stepped closer to her, drawing her face up with a finger under her chin. The heat in her cheeks couldn't be cooled down by the cold breeze coming through the open window. She really didn't want to be so close to him, but she made no attempt to push him further away.

"You're cute when you're mad." He mentioned, tongue darting out along his lips.

There was no point in defending it. "Don't start." She warned, shaking her head and turning back around to look at her escape.

Another Spencer shrug as he stepped back and gave her some room to breathe without his intoxicating cologne. "So, what are you doing in here, Y/n L/n?"

"Leaving," Y/n replied firmly, spinning back around. She climbed up to the closed toilet seat so she could get on the window.

He came to stand next to her, resting against the wall as he watched what she was doing. "Why?" He pushed.

She could never work him out. Not with how his random questions. "Things to do."

"Mm." He hummed, still having all her attention on him. "Engineering homework or something?"

Another thing he was good at was getting information out of her without directly asking for it. "Fine, I just don't like anyone here, and I wanna go home."

His hand flew over his chest on top of where his head would be. "I'm hurt." He claimed dramatically.

"Okay, be hurt." She replied firmly. He was not going to have the last word. "It's my party so I think I can leave whenever I want." She hoped that would be the end of it, that Spencer would go back to her party and she could slip out the window unknown.

"Without Lexi?" He asked, tipping his head.

That stopped her dead in her tracks, freezing up again and she couldn't control her facial expressions as well around him as she could around near strangers. "Yes." She answered.

"Are you mad at her over some rumor you heard from Sierra?" He wondered, voice only getting firmer at the mention of the girl's name.

"Nope." She lied through her teeth. "Just think it's gross since she has a boyfriend who, might I add, is one of your good friends." Once again, she had her foot in her mouth, saying too much.

"We didn't." Spencer cut her off. His pretty smile flickered between genuine and smug.

A nod seemed emotionless like it was just another fact she learned, but she made it worse with her inability to shut up. "And how did you even know that? What Sierra said to me?"

Spencer chuckled. "I can-"

"Actually, I don't care." She cut him off, not really wanting to hear another word from him.

"I can lip read." He continued his previous statement. "And you shouldn't listen to bitchy gossip."

Y/n's eyebrows raised at that, a gloating feeling taking over her at what felt like a win. "She touched a nerve. What'd she do to get you pissed off?"

"She told everyone we were hooking up and then when. I swear to god, she's psycho." He revealed, clearly still vexed about what went on.

"It's probably true," Y/n mumbled under her breath, but she hoped Spencer heard it. "And I don't really care," She admitted. It was all an act to draw an emotion out of him that wasn't smugness. Hopefully, anger so he'd leave her alone. "Where's Lex?"

Spencer clenched his teeth together in a grimace. "That boyfriend you mentioned, I think they may have broken up." She moved off the window again, ready to go back out into the party as much as she didn't want to. A firm hand on her arm stopped her. "She's fine."

"She's my best friend," Y/n stated blankly. "I can't leave her here heartbroken."

"Ethan's taking her back to your apartment." Spencer continued explaining it all to her.

She half wondered why he didn't lead with that. "So? I need to be there for her." He really did not understand girl code.

"You know what she's like when she'd blackout drunk. She'll be out like a light when her head hits the pillow." He reminded her, and she was forced to think about why he was trying to get her to stay in the oddly clean frat house bathroom with him.

But she pushed down those bad feelings she usually had around him and ignored his oddness. "Great, so I'm going to go."

"Where?" He asked, continuing the conversation for no apparent reason to her.

"I don't know, the beach?" She offered.

"That'll take at least 8 and a half hours." He told her, again being unhelpful. "Come with me. We'll go find someplace to eat."

That might have been worse than going back to the party, and she quickly made her mind up. "No, plus it's 2:41."

"I can't leave you by yourself," Spencer claimed, although he left her emotionally alone all the time. "Especially at 2:41." He could see she was thinking about it, trying to weigh the pros and cons. "Come on, let me buy you your breakfast birthday." He all but begged.

Her eyes widened before she frowned. "It's past midnight, my birthday's over."

He shook his head. "Your birthday's today. Lexi got it wrong the first year, so now you pretend it's yesterday."

Her brain was split between feeling the happiness that came with the knowledge she was important to him and the deep concern about how he knew so much about her.

"Fine." She compromised hesitantly. "But we're going out the window."

"Ladies first." He said, holding out his hand to help her out of the window before getting out it himself.

It was much colder outside without the heat from other human bodies. As she walked her shoes only got more painful, the heels squeezing her feet in a way that would hurt less if she had more alcohol.

The cold grass seemed like a better alternative, and she found herself stopping to take the shoes off without any hesitation. Spencer stopped when he noticed she did, holding his hand out again to help her. He reached his other hand out to take the shoes from her while he threaded his fingers through her other hand.

Y/n didn't comment on the hand holding, choosing to completely ignore it. His long fingers had always felt like they fit perfectly with hers. Thankfully, or maybe not so thankfully, Spencer spoke before the silence got overwhelming. "Your flats are still in my car." He reminded her of something she didn't want to be reminded of.

He hadn't parked too far away and they quickly reached his car. "You can't drive." She told him when he got out his car keys.

"I can." He claimed, opening the passenger side door and motioning for her to get in.

"Friends don't let friends drink and drive. Give me the keys." She demanded, dropping his hand and holding it out so he'd give her the keys.

Spencer chuckled, and she could feel his warm breath on her cooler skin. "We're friends now?" He asked, frowning at her in a teasing manner. Y/n looked less than impressed, giving him another blank look. "I didn't have much, and it was hours ago." He promised.

"You can't prove that, and no offense, but I can't think of a worse way to die than in a car crash with you." She replied, increasingly annoyed at his petulance. Sometimes it was cute, but right now all she wanted was something to eat.

"Can so prove it," Spencer claimed, not giving her a split second to say something back before his lips were on hers. Dumbly, as usual, she let her eyes close and indulged in his warm lips against hers. Deepening the kiss, his tongue slipped into her mouth and she would have been able to taste the alcohol had there been any. He pulled back a second later. "Good enough?"

Her lips were still tingling like they always did, and she struggled with finding an answer to the question he asked. "Mm, yeah, you can drive."

He grinned wider than he needed to, placing a kiss on her cheeks before motioning for her to get into the car. She did, feeling her head spinning with his every action.

On the floor of the passenger side, there were her shoes. Simple white ballet flats with bows on them from that night.

~

It was her sophomore year at Caltech. Not the first party of the year, but still in the first semester. Y/n's romantic interests had gravitated close to Spencer than she would have liked after they came back from summer vacation. There were other people, of course, and she handed out her own and asked for other people's Snapchats each time they were out.

Spencer was definitely over the driving limit that night, and she had her arm wrapped around his waist as she guided him out of another loud house- a sorority house that time- to his car.

"What? This is your car?" She asked surprised when he unlocked the car.

"Yup." He replied, pushing back his floppy hair with the hand that wasn't around her shoulder.

She gave him a weird look, trying not to be too impressed with someone who had ignored her all night. "Get in." She instructed, nodding to the door before she walked around to the driver's side.

Spencer put his seatbelt on but his eyes stayed focused on her as she moved the seat far forward enough that she would be able to drive.

"You have to press it." He informed her, noticing she couldn't start the car.

She did and experimentally started driving the car, not her first choice of how to get comfortable in a car worth 6 figures. "I've got to say, you had me pretty fooled, Spencer." She confessed after they'd been driving in silence for a little while.

"Hmm, and why's that?" He wondered, a glassy look in his eye.

"I just didn't peg you as a Daddy's money California kind of guy." She explained, clearly in reference to his car. It was crazy how little she knew about him since they'd been friends for more than a year.

He froze in his seat, fingers tightening on the center console. She'd noticed he wasn't as in control when he wasn't sober. "You're so far off." He declared, his expression turning into a smirk. "I'm not even from California."

"Somewhere close, though. You're not east coast, and you definitely don't sound southern." She deduced, prompted to continue by Spencer's nod. "There's money in Colorado, but then you don't seem like the type to ski. Maybe Arizona?" She made her final guess as she parked the car up in front of his apartment after the short drive.

"Nevada." He told her. "Vegas, actually, but I don't come from money."

Y/n scoffed out a laugh, having to look at him properly to confirm whether or not he was serious. He was. "Where'd you get a Range Rover from then?"

"I'm from Vegas." He repeated. "And I can count cards." They'd been friends for a short enough time that he still could elicit a shocked reaction from her. "Was that an impressed look?"

"How would you even get into a casino?" She questioned skeptically, not wanting to believe another fact that proved how amazing he was. "No one would believe you're 21."

He shuffled in his seat, producing a wallet from his back pocket and pulling out an ID. By the birthday, it wasn't his own. "Not only do they believe I'm 21, they believe I'm 25."

"Wow, with your babyface, they've got to be incredibly gullible." She teased while he put the fake ID alongside his real one.

"So, you think I'm cute, is what I'm hearing?" He wondered, a victorious grin going along with his lit-up eyes.

Y/n shook her head with a giggle. "If that helps you sleep at night." She joked, earning a louder than expected laugh from him.

"It will," Spencer confirmed, facing inching closer to hers. She hadn't realized how close they really were until then when she could smell the vodka on his breath. "This will too." He added quietly, leaning further until his nose brushed hers, and she tilted her head to the side so she could kiss him.

It wasn't their first kiss, but it was much more passionate and he cupped her cheeks, wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck so he could press their faces closer together. His tongue traced her bottom lip, slipping into her mouth when she parted her lips.

The pounding in her chest was loud, her heart thumping against her rib cage as she poured all the affection she had for him into the kiss.

When she ran out of air, she pulled back, but Spencer kept his hands on her face. "You're making this a habit, Spencer." She warned although she'd give in time and time again with no resistance. Maybe she just needed more boundaries.

"Actually, scientists think it takes 18 to 254 days to create a habit." He informed her smartly and then his lips were on hers once again. "So, we could?"

She shook her head, that better judgment side taking over finally. "No, we can't." She decided, a tiny glimmer of hurt in her eyes. She really couldn't give him the opportunity to let her down when she promised herself this year would be different. "You can't be drunk every night for a good part of the year."

He accepted that as an answer like the question was casual. "Thanks for driving me. I'll come by and get my car tomorrow, if that's okay?" He was already getting out of the car before he finished the question.

"You're going to let me drive this home?" Y/n spat back in surprise.

Spencer just shrugged, shifting on his feet on the sidewalk. "Yeah, I trust you."

She wished she wouldn't read into things he said so thoroughly. "See you tomorrow then." Shutting the car door, he waved goodbye to her before she drove off.

~

She slipped the shoes onto her feet, grateful he hadn't thrown them out. His car still smelt like it did back then, clean and the backseats were tidy too.

"Where are we going?" She asked once they were on the road, snapping out of her daydream.

"Somewhere close," Spencer replied as ambiguously as possible. "You'll like it."

She looked at him for another moment, taking in his side profile that was unfairly gorgeous before deciding there was nothing she needed to say to him.

"Your necklace... I remember it." He realized, glancing at her when they were stopped at a traffic light.

Her fingers were on it again, adjusting it meaninglessly. "I wore it like once in freshman year." She recalled, remembering another night they'd been together.

~

They'd both had too much that night. After drink after drink at another loud party, Y/n knew she needed to walk it off in the cooler October air. Spencer noticed her leaving alone and ran as well as he could despite the fact he was drunk to catch up with her.

"Where are we going?" Spencer wondered, walking alongside her.

The sudden voice in her ear made her jump, heart thumping in fright about who it was until she turned to see Spencer. "Trying to give me a heart attack?" She asked.

"Maybe." He answered. "Although there are other ways I could do that if you're interested."

"I'm not." She assured him, shaking her head. "What are you doing walking with me?"

He stopped for a moment right in the middle of the pavement, and she stopped with him, curious about what he was doing. In a second, he had shrugged his jacket off. She was still frowning at him when he draped it over her. "You looked cold." He explained.

"Thanks." She smiled, slipping her arms into it before they started walking again. The kind gesture was a complete 180 from how he had been treating her the whole night. "You've been kind of weird tonight." She said, the alcohol pulsing through her making her more honest than she would have liked.

"Do you really know me well enough to say that?" He asked in reply, but his tone was angry, it was genuine.

In truth, she didn't know much about him. He'd mentioned his favorite color once, and she knew he was incredibly smart, but more than anything, the only thing she knew about Spencer was how he made her feel.

"Maybe not." She decided before backtracking. "I can pick up on a vibe, though."

"Long week." He claimed, face falling slightly before he perked up again. "Rumor has it, there's something going on with you and Rich-"

Y/n cut him off before he could continue. "Nope. Whoever made that up was delusional."

A scoff came from him. "Good because otherwise, during sex you'd be moaning out dick." His laughter at his own comment was loud.

"Ew. Please don't think about me having sex." She requested, screwing up her face.

He sighed, throwing his head back dramatically. "When you tell someone not to do something, they're going to do it, princess."

Again she grimaced, trying to shake the image out of her head. "Yuck."

"Let's go to mine." Spencer decided, completely changing the conversation topic. They had reached the point in their walk where a left would take them back to Y/n's and a right to Spencer's.

"I wanna go home and sleep." She asserted, denying his request and turning to walk back to her place.

He grabbed her hand to stop her, pulling her body back to face his. "We've got candy, though. Plus, I'm only going to make it one way and if we go to yours, I'm going to have to sleep on Lexi's couch which...well, that would just be torture."

She couldn't really say no to his pretty hazel eyes that flickered under the street lights and focused directly on her. Then there was his perfect grin, dopier than usual. "Okay, fine." She agreed. It may have been naive but she was 18 and she knew Spencer was a good person with some boyfriend potential.

The walk, thankfully, wasn't that far, and Spencer kept the conversation going about how she was finding her engineering degree since he would be starting his own in the second semester.

"Did I tell you how pretty you look?" He asked when they reached the door of his and Ethan's apartment, leaning against the wood instead of actually unlocking the door.

Y/n rolled her eyes, a blush taking over her cheeks. "No." She replied, gazing down at her shoes instead of meeting his eyes.

It wasn't the first time either that night that he cupped her cheeks and forced her to look up at him, and it wasn't the first time she had been diving into kiss his pink lips.

He kissed her harder back and his hands traveled down to her hips to pull her body closer to his. She looped her arms around his neck, fingers tangling in her head as they all but made out on his doorstep. It was messy, rushed and everything she wanted in her drunk mind.

Her heart was thumping, the blood rushing through her veins faster and her head spun as he kissed her passionately. The taste of vodka would have been easier to distinguish if she didn't taste the same.

For a moment, they pulled apart to get some air. "Stay over," Spencer mumbled, his lips brushing hers. She pulled back further, a little in shock by the offer and unable to figure out his motive. The surprised look on her face got Spencer talking. "Not so I can sleep with you, so I can sleep beside you." He clarified.

Sleeping beside him, waking up next to him, and maybe getting to kiss him was enough of an incentive for her to agree.

~

"Oh, you left it on my bedside table and asked Ethan to get it back to you." Spencer recalled, clearly remembering more of the morning after.

"Stupid, I know." She agreed, placing her fingers flat on her forehead. "I'll never hear the end of that."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as they both laughed. "You'll never hear the end of that? I'll never hear the end of that."

When the laughter died down, Spencer turned another corner and they were pulling into a Starbucks drive-through. "Starbucks?" She asked, turning to look at him blankly. "I was expecting something 5 stars."

He looked worried for a second, before properly reading her expression as playful. "It's 3 am." He defended, voice reaching a higher pitch.

Y/n shook her head, teasing him further. "Excuses, excuses."

"Just tell me what you want," Spencer instructed, trying to sound firm but smiling. "Then we're going to go to the beach." She chose not to argue, telling him what she wanted and sitting back in the seat while he got her what she wanted.

Unlike during the daytime, the drive to the beach was quick by LA standards. For a while, she stared out the window and watched the lights of the city flash past her as they drove through the familiar roads.

"Do you actually let people eat in your car?" She asked when he bit into what he had chosen while driving. The car almost looked too clean for anyone to sit in it.

"No, only me." He answered, smirking at her. That was all the permission she needed to start eating her own early breakfast.

For the rest of the journey, they sat in silence, both watching the road go by and the cars drive past them before he pulled the car into a park that overlooked the ocean.

"You know, we're not actually going to be able to see the sun rise from here?" She teased him, eyes pulling away from the dark beach in front of them to him.

"Actually, I did know that." He assured her with a chuckle. "But, this way, you get the pretty colors in the sky without having to look into the sun. Plus, if you want a proper sunrise, we'll have to drive cross country."

It sounded exactly in between a dream and a nightmare. "I think that's what they call an abduction."

"You're funnier than people give you credit for." He told her sincerely, and it was enough to have her heart flipping in her chest. "I got you a gift." He announced, leaning over to her seat and opening the glove box before pulling out a black, small rectangular shaped box with a red bow around it.

"Spencer, thank you, but you really didn't have to." She said gratefully and slightly confused.

He shrugged, smiling as he watched her play with the bow. "I wanted to."

She looked back up at him with a grin before turning her attention back to the present and opening it. Inside the box laid a gold-shaped rose, an infinity rose, she knew. "Spencer..." She trailed off in awe, unsure of what to say as she met his eyes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He replied before a sudden wave of nerves hit him. Something she seldom saw from him. "I didn't really know- what, um, what you'd like-"

"It's perfect. Thank you." She cut him off before he could continue, leaning forward and kissing him before she could stop herself.

It felt like the most natural thing to do in that situation, like there was something hard-wired in her brain that compelled her to lean forward and kiss him whenever she felt that overwhelming sense of happiness.

Spencer kissed her back more tentatively than he usually did like he was holding something back and he didn't even attempt to pull her in for another kiss.

"Sorry." She rushed out an apology, dipping her head down to avoid the embarrassment of looking at him.

"Don't be." He stopped her spiraling, reaching down to hold her hand. "You can do that whenever you want."

Y/n shook her head, trying to be firm with herself. "No, I can't. We actually need to stop doing this whenever we're drunk." She stated, motioning between the two of them with her finger.

"We're not drunk." He reminded her. It was more because he needed the truth rather than he was trying to play devil's advocate.

"You usually only kiss me when you are, though." She countered, sounding more hurt than she wanted to.

It wasn't that he hurt her purposefully, it was that she kept letting herself indulge in the fantasy for too long, and now that she was entering a new decade, it was time for her to grow up and be realistic.

"You think I don't want to kiss you all the time?" He asked, sounding almost rhetorical. Her silence gave him an answer. "I do, and I want to tell you I love you every single day, but I never seem to be able to. Honestly, I don't even try to find a time to tell you anymore, I just do it when I'm drunk enough that it doesn't matter and I'm sorry that it hurts you."

"What are you trying to say?" Y/n stopped him again. Her heart had started speeding up as she felt them getting inevitably closer to the truth being revealed.

He took a deep breath, and she sat there hoping it wasn't just to draw out suspense. "I love you."

Even if it didn't for Spencer, she felt all the tension dissipate and her eyes widened slightly before she felt that all-consuming sense of joy flow over her again.

Once again, her lips were on his again, but he kissed her back firmly that time, pulling her closer to him and refusing to break the kiss until the very last second.

"I love you, too."

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[prolix-yuy]

Hello! Would you ever expand the sex worker universe? I would love to read about will and benny and santi

Hello lovely Nonnie! Thank you for sending in this fun ask! I wanted to grab it and answer it over some other stories because I’m elbows-deep in other content, but this is something that’s also been bopping around in my head.

The short answer is: probably not. I like all of the TF Boys just fine, and I love pulling them into Frankie and Ms J’s stories, but I don’t plan on expanding the Sex Worker!Frankie universe to include standalone stories for the boys. However, I do have some headcanons about the boys when they were all working together that I thought would be fun to share:

Sex Worker!TF Boys Headcanons

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, Sex Worker!TF Boys, watch me make up shit about sex work, descriptions of sex with clients (including PiV sex, oral sex, group sex, and BDSM), descriptions of male and female bodies, the boys are implied bi/heteroflexible, mentions of drug use, discussion of the aftermath of military service, a brief Tom appearance, assholery and derogatory language pertaining to sex work (only in Tom's if you want to skip).

Pope’s

We all know Santi started “Pope’s” 

Part of it was for the money; he only had girls to start, recommended to him by his friend Javi, former DEA in Colombia

But when his fellow brothers in arms were struggling to get work, he thought he might have found a niche market

Will said they’d get one phone call and that would be that. Benny bet Frankie fifty bucks it would be for him

In the first week Santi got ten calls for the rugged men he’d convinced to pose for his strip club posters

The screening was the same as what he did for his girls

STD tests, birth control, health, payment, rules

The sweetness of their nerves only solidified what Santi was doing

Will was actually the first of them to have a client

When they met up for beers after his appointment, he walked in with a sheepish look

“Yeah okay, it was…it was a good time. I’d do it again.”

Benny and Frankie got into the rotation next, and after their first few appointments it was like entering a new brotherhood

Santi swore he saw them come back to life

The stress of reintegrating into civilian life while also needing to make a living washed off of them

They could do this, were good at this, and even enjoyed it

It’s work sometimes, like when Benny has a fight the night before and has a little less stamina, or if Frankie’s having a rough day, but like any job they still rise to the occasion

And the reviews are glowing

Santiago “Pope” Garcia

A few times Santi would take clients of his own

He called it the “Manager Special”

He liked the calls that were bristly, doubtful

“I’ve never had a man make me cum and I’m at the point where I just want to see if it’s possible.”

“I honestly don’t know why I called.”

“You must get lots of women who know just what they want.”

He likes the challenge, and can take a little bit of a cold shoulder to start

100% success rate for turning around an appointment

The woman who couldn’t cum needed lots of foreplay, Santi’s slick tongue and coaxing fingers pulling her first one out amidst a chorus of “Oh fucks!”

She knows now that smooth and steady is her recipe for cumming with a cock inside her

The ones who are hesitant are fun

Santi likes to watch when the urge to bolt out of the room is replaced with lust and post-orgasmic haze

Having them writhing in the sheets, clutching at him and begging him not to stop? Worth every minute

And if they don’t know what they want? If Santi can’t figure out which of the boys is best for her?

Well then, he has a lot of tricks up his sleeve. One of them is sure to work

His filthy talk is guaranteed to at least get their motor running

And he'll never admit it, but the brattier they are, the harder he gets

Getting someone face-down in the pillow hoarsely chanting his name after a battle of wills?

Feeling them relax around him and take what he's plowing into their body?

It never fails to put a grin on Santi's face

And if they try to regain the upper hand after Santi cums?

Poor dears have no idea he's got a short refractory period

He's got them folded in half under him and chasing another orgasm in record time

Santi is still running Pope's after the boys leave, but it's just his girls now

He has a few repeat clients that request Will or Benny, but only a handful over several months

And one time he gets a sweet, nervous divorcee looking for someone to treat her kindly

And he instantly knows who to call

Will “Ironhead” Miller

Will always ends up being the main attraction on the flyers

Santi prefers to stay out of sight and behind the scenes, and Benny is already on posters for his boxing career

He couldn’t convince Frankie to smolder with a camera on him. The second it turns on he’s all awkward energy

Will exudes quiet confidence, and that apparently does it for a lot of clients

Santi sends Will the half-confident ones, who have maybe used an escort service before. 

They’re experienced in their own way and know what they want. Will is happy to give it to them

But there are also the desperate ones.

Failed marriages, stressful lives, partners away on business trips, kids out of town and they just need to feel seen and fucked senseless for an hour

He’s attentive, watching their faces for the minute signal that he needs to stroke faster, suck harder, whisper something in her ear to tip her over the edge

This attentiveness is why when Santi gets a unique call, he goes to Will first

“Ever do any BDSM stuff?”

Will does some reading, watches some videos, listens to some BDSM community leaders

He can definitely understand the appeal

The first client is a softball, just looking to be tied up and spanked a little

She cums so hard Will loses feeling in his hand from how tightly she’s squeezing him

The shudder that overcomes her when he hums out “good girl” makes him shudder too

From then on Santi sends Will anything with a BDSM tilt

Will excels at reading his client’s body language, but consent and negotiations are a large part of the appointment too

Will is the only one of the boys who requires a phone call with a client before he’ll participate. No charge, and no booking until his questions are satisfied

His clients often tell him the negotiation is half the foreplay for them

Will also has the most repeat clients. 

It comes with the territory, and knowing his clients wants and needs more intimately than from one session is what makes him so desirable

He often doms, both hard and soft (but he prefers soft)

He’ll sub occasionally too, if the client is right

Couples require two separate phone calls, and additional measures to ensure everyone’s safety and pleasure

He is methodical, rigorous, and diligent

Will leaves Pope’s when he’s saved up enough money to open his own little car repair shop

He likes working with his hands, taking things apart and falling into the calm headspace of rooting out problems and solving them

He still takes an old regular once and a while

After all, they’ve put a lot of time in. It would be a shame for them to start all over when he knows exactly what they need

Benny "Golden Boy" Miller

Being a sex worker with your brother is weird

Benny never thought asking about Will’s day would lead to discussions over brands of condoms or bed restraint preferences

But here they are

At least they’re not in close proximity, and they decided on a clear line not to cross when discussing work

Benny started soon after Will because the money sounded too damn good

He was working his way up the food chain in the boxing ring, but it would be nice to make some cash that didn’t involve getting the shit beat out of him

The exhaustion after an appointment was much more satisfying

Santi sends Benny the “party clients”

Bachelorette parties that need spicing up

Those that want to have their world rocked seven different ways and in gravity-defying positions

Occasionally the brazen ones who want the title of being Benny’s best lay

If it sounds like a party scene from a 90’s movie, Benny’s your man

He’s devilishly handsome, which of course helps when the door opens and eight screaming women greet him

Plus his body is rippling and firm, perfect for fingers or manicured nails to skim over

His stamina is well tested, and he loves ratioing his client’s orgasms against his own

His current best is 5:1

He also enjoys being playful in bed

Tossing the client around, nipping and scratching lightly as they squirm underneath him

His mouth can run a mile a minute with little praises and quips

Unless, of course, it’s otherwise occupied, in which his hums and groans will speed them to a faster orgasm anyways

Benny’s “never have I ever” roster is incredibly small

Fucked every hole? Yes

Milked out every drop of their cum? Yes

Tried every creative position, including hanging off a hotel chandelier? Oh yes

He convinced the client that it would definitely come down, but he did fuck her standing up and let her thread her fingers through the metal as long as she promised not to pull

She pulled his hair instead as she came

Benny also loves groups - to be watched, to have them join in, to be in a mass of writhing bodies and skin and pleasure

He can’t be as unreserved as he might have been in the past, simply because he’s being paid to be the guide, but he’ll take moments to relish in the raw sexuality of it all

Men, women, as long as everyone’s having a good time Benny is in his element

He leaves Pope’s soon after Will, his boxing career starting to make the chance of him getting recognized more and more likely

Not that he’d necessarily mind, but if he was going to make a go of it, it was time to jump in with both feet

But if something juicy comes up - a “Just Divorced” party or a fiery client begging for a challenge, Benny can’t help saying yes

Francisco “Catfish” Morales

Frankie was the most nervous about working for Pope

It took him a full month of asking Will and Benny questions about it before he could commit

“Are the girls expecting a lot when they come in?” “I mean, usually not much more than you’d normally do for a woman, Frankie.”

“Does it get weird?” “It’s a little awkward to start, but once you start getting into it most of the nerves go away.”

“What do you normally do?” “Jesus, Frank, do I have to give you the birds and the bees talk?”

But finally he calls Pope and says he’s in, at least for a little while

He figured it would be a little less passionate, a little less connection than Frankie normally craves in a sexual encounter

What he didn’t expect was how much he’d like it

What Benny and Will hadn’t put in as many words, and what Santi had glazed over, is how much it felt like helping someone

It stroked at a caregiver desire in Frankie, to give and soothe and make another person happy

The price of coke was the first reason why Frankie started sex work, but the work itself is what kept him there

Santi sends Frankie the shy ones, nervous or full of hang-ups around sex

Frankie excels at making them feel at ease, and then making them feel every pleasure they can think to ask for

He especially loves eating pussy, both for himself and for how reactive the clients are under his hot mouth and relentless tongue

He knows he’s better at it than most, taking his time to find the spots that make them cry out (it’s different for everyone, but he’s got some tried-and-true techniques)

When he puts his big hands on their hips and hold them down, feeling them clenching on his tongue, he has to bite back a growl

Beyond the oral, or the penetrative sex, Frankie also excels at the intimacy of the situation

It’s weird, paying for something that should be easy enough to get for free, and that can make any person feel broken

But if they're inexperienced, or had a string of bad lovers, and their confidence is low, Frankie will take every moment of time together to make them feel like the most desirable person on the planet

His hands roam skin slowly, reverently

He likes placing kisses along the dips and curves of bodies

Not every client wants to be kissed on the mouth, but when he does he’s sure to leave them breathless

Santi calls it the “Boyfriend Experience” and it’s Frankie’s pride and joy to offer

But the coke begins to creep up as Frankie struggles with his own self-worth in the reflection of his clients

Once they leave he’s back to being just Frankie, coke addict, ex-military working at a mind-numbingly boring airport hanger

And he yearns for the touches he gives to the people who walk in and out of his life

Santi kicks Frankie out when the coke becomes all-encompassing

He enters his hardest, and darkest days, and comes out on the other side

He knows sex work will tempt him, so he starts working for Will instead, and things finally feel brighter

Santi throws him the odd client here and there, but they tend to be simple one-offs

Easy money, straightforward needs, no chance for attachment

Frankie thinks it’s Santi’s way of protecting him, and the twin annoyance and gratefulness wars in his chest

And then one day, Santi calls him for a client he thinks Frankie will like

It’s the understatement of the century

Tom “Redfly” Davis

(Dis)honorable mention of the original team

Santi never offered, due to Tom’s marriage

That doesn’t stop Tom from making the odd tasteless joke about “having to turn down the pimp” or "how he avoided getting sex trafficked"

He makes too many STD jokes, even though he’s heard about how rigorous Santi is with keeping everyone clean and healthy

The boys (and his girls) know everyone who works at the health clinic by their first name

When Tom jokes about needing sanitizer after shaking Benny’s hand, everyone’s hackles go up

When he also asks too many questions about if any of them are “gay for pay,” Santi has to walk away before he punches him

They stop inviting him around soon after

END

[borhapparker]

its totally cool if you’re not comfortable writing this, could you do Tom Holland x fem!reader where reader has struggled with depression and it got worse over quarantine, then one day tom (or one of the boys cuz they were all together during quarantine)finds her overdosed on pills? Could end where she survives or not

yes of course! i just wanted to make a note beforehand that i am no expert in this topic, and i am going to be as sensitive as possible when it comes to exploring this topic. all my knowledge and descriptions come from me watching "euphoria" and its overtly graphic scenes, so please take all my knowledge with a grain of salt.

that being said, i am here for everyone if they ever need anything. i am also struggling with depression and i can sympathize with those going through those rough patches and moments in life. i am here for you if anyone ever needs to talk or needs a friend for whatever reason. (: my inbox is always open!

ps. i will also be posting this piece of writing on my wattpad if anyone wants to share the love on there too (:

warnings: angst, some fluff, will make you squirm, mentions of death/suicide, descriptions of overdosing, lots of mentions of self harm

word count: 1.3k

There was something comforting in knowing you were finally alone. Away from the world, away from breathing, living humans. Away from it all. The bliss of hearing your own breathing, the beating of your heart as you laid down, arms spread out, much like that of a starfish.

But, through the bliss of being alone, there emerged your thoughts. The demons, clawing at you, pulling you into a state of pure pain. Your breath hitched in your throat as they whispered, the words twisting into you like a dagger. Tears pricked at your eyes as you fought them back, burying your face into your pillow.

This past year had been tough. You had friends and a good support system around you. But they didn't know. They didn't know the types of demons you fought every night, every waking moment.

Maybe this was it, this was when you would go. This was your time, time to escape your demons, to finally get rid of the hands clawing at you every day.

Maybe you could finally rest.

The cracking of the door jerked you up from your bed, as you sighed, rubbing your hands against your face. Maybe not today.

"Y/n! Love, we're home!" the familiar face greeted you as you got up, opening your door. "We brought dinner."

His eyes met your tired figure as he smiled, coming to wrap his arms around you as you smiled sadly, his hand rubbing your back.

"Let's eat, baby." you nodded, as the boys all hugged you. "It's your turn to pick a show."

Bringing the food to the living room, you smiled as you picked up the controller, opened up Netflix, and chose Supernatural.

"Finally!" Harrison cheered as he high-fived you, "Winchester boys are back in action."

"What episode did we leave off on?"

You backtracked, checking the current episode, "Season 5, Episode 10."

Harry groaned, "At least we finally get to find out what happens with Lucifer."

Tom laughed as he lightly punched his shoulder, "Let's see if our bets were true."

The night passed like a blur through your eyes, your body leaning into Tom's as his body heat warmed you up. Yet, you did not feel warm. Your body felt cold, as you closed your eyes, trying to rest from the neverending voices haunting you.

You didn't know how long you had been asleep for, as you opened your eyes, feeling Tom's arms wrapped around your waist as his face was nestled into the crook of your neck. Yet, you felt empty. Nothing felt right about where you were, as you slowly slipped out of the bed, heading for the bathroom in the hall.

A sigh shakily slipped your lips as you locked the door behind you, looking up at the mirror, at who supposedly was yourself.

Yet, you didn't recognize the person staring back at you. That person looked dead, dark eyebags under their eyes, lips slightly bruised, and cheeks hollow.

Go away

No one deserves to be with someone that looks like THAT

It's just in the cabinet, grab them, they don't bite

The words spilled from their lips as tears pricked at you, and you shook your head, a silent sob slipping from your lips. "No, I won't do it."

But why? It's not like anyone here would even miss you

C'mon, at least you can finally sleep

Sleep

Sleep. That's all you wanted, was for the voices to go away. The claw marks from their hands were not evident on your skin, yet they always pricked at you. It was hard to ignore them, and even harder now when all you wanted to do was embrace the cold.

All you wanted was to be warm, and peaceful.

Quiet.

Opening the cabinet over you, your eyes grazed over the familiar bottle of pills.

They had been prescribed for pain when you fractured your elbow a couple of months ago. But you didn't need them anymore, the pain was gone after two months. As you opened the bottle, you dropped one pill into your hand.

Then two. Then three.

Then the whole bottle was emptied into your palm.

You brought your palm up to your mouth, dropping them all in as you swallowed them dry, the itchiness in your throat stronger by the minute. Looking back up at your reflection, you suddenly smiled.

Maybe this was all you needed.

Just a little dose.

-

Tom woke from the bed, noticing the emptiness beside him. Rubbing his face with his hands, he walked out, finding the boys at the kitchen table, chatting and drinking their respective cups of tea.

"Lads?" they turned to look at him, "Where's Y/n?"

Harrison shrugged, as he gave Tom his cup of tea, Tom only placing it down as an ache in the pit of his stomach grew by the minute.

"Did anyone see her leave?" Sam shook his head as Harry shrugged, staring at his phone.

He walked back into the hallway, noticing the light in the bathroom on. His hand came up to the door and lightly rapped the wood, "Y/n? Darling? You in there?"

Silence emitted from the other side, as Tom's eyebrows furrowed, and he knocked again. Putting his ear to the door, he heard little gasps, slight breathing before nothing.

His eyes widened, as he called for the boys to the door, and he knocked again, this time with more fervor. "Y/n, come on, open up!"

Tom was pulled back by Harrison, as he and Harry kicked the door down, gasps emitting from their lips.

There you were, splayed on the ground, vomit emitting from your lips as your eyes were open, glassy. Tom crouched down, fingers immediately going for a pulse as he couldn't find one, before beginning CPR. Harrison crouched next to him, on the other side, as he tilted his head, stopping Tom. His fingers immediately went into your throat, trying his best to open up your airway as Harry dialed an ambulance, Sam grabbing a cold towel from the kitchen. As Harrison cleared your airway, he motioned for Tom to continue CPR as Sam brought the towel and placed it on your forehead, hoping to cool you down.

Harry ran outside the house, as he flagged down the ambulance, the paramedics began to ask him questions he did not have the answers to. Leading them upstairs, one immediately opened his bag, taking out a vial of a transparent liquid and a needle. The paramedic immediately dropped in front of your body, as he grabbed your arm, plunging the needle filled with the unknown transparent liquid.

"Keep doing that, kid! We gotta go!" the other paramedic immediately grabbed the spine board, pointing at Harrison to pick her up by the shoulders as they slid the board under her body. "Let's go!"

Both paramedics ran outside, carrying her body as the boys followed behind, Tom going in the ambulance as the rest drove Harrison's car, all following the ambulance. The paramedic inside the ambulance took over for Tom and resumed CPR, as Tom held your hand, the warmth now slowly returning.

A gasp emitted from your lips as you opened your eyes, the paramedic smiling down at you before yelling at his partner, "She's awake! Let's go! How far are we?"

"5 minutes!"

"Welcome back," the paramedic smiled, "Stay with us now, okay? Everything is going to be okay."

Turning to your right, you noticed Tom's gaze on you. "T-tom."

"Hey, darling." he gripped your hand. "Stay with me."

At that moment, you realized, there were no voices. The claw marks were gone, and all you heard was silence. You didn't know how long this would last, or how long you would have with this silence. But you welcomed it, like a warm hug on a cold day. Maybe things would be okay. Maybe everything would be better this time around.

Maybe, this was your new beginning.

tags:

@pbnjparker @madmadmilk @websterss @hollandroos @spiderboytotherescue @justapurrcat @ahoefortomholland @darling-parker @darlingparkers @silkscream @silkholland @sunshinehollandd @blissfulparker @boohooiamthefool @softholland @peterprk @tomhollandsblog @thollandsdarling @pvarker @totheblood @sunflowertomholland @slut4holland @gingerparker @darling-im-moonstruck

[twinkleimagines]

Hiii drew smut where they meet from Madison and have been talking and then the cast plus y/n go out clubbing and they confess there feelings / also can drew be rough.

*Keep it on the low*

Warning: smut and language.

I got carried away with this one so I hope you guys like.

“ I just feel like we never see each other anymore “ you spoke over the phone Bailey.

“ I know” she whined out. “ listen we’ll fly you out this weekend so we can hang and you can meet my friends okay? You’re going to love them “ she insisted.

“ okay” you agreed, the feeling of excitement rushing through you. Madison was your best friend since middle school and it had been a touch transition since she began filming her new tv show, Outer Banks. Of course you talked on the phone but it wasn’t the same, and you missed her truly.

You had almost became envious of her new cast mates because they were daily posting videos and pictures with each other and it made you miss her more than ever .

You quickly went back to your bedroom, packing a suit case- the weekend couldn’t come any faster .

****

“ I’m walking down the escalator now” you spoke as you sat on the phone with Madison trying to find your way to her.

“ okay - wait I think I see you” she spoke out.

“ y/n!” You heard someone yell from in front of you. You lifted your head only to see Madison standing at the bottom of the escalator, her hand waving at 90 miles per hour.

“ Maddy!” You yelled before jogging your way down the already moving steps.

“ oh my gosh!” You yelled out as you both wrapped each other in a tight hug.

“ I’m gonna cry “ she spoke as she squeezed her arms around your shoulders.

“ ugh I know I’ve missed you so much” you poured .

“ c’mon we’ve only got the weekend and I have soooo much to show you” she insisted, tugging on your arm .

****

The ride to Madison’s hotel that she was staying it a was a bit of a drive from the apartment. She was staying pretty close to the beach and Charleston was probably one of the most beautiful cities you had ever laid your eyes on.

Madison had updated you on a lot, including a new girl she was talking to as well as her new friends and their characters on the show.

“ this Rafe guy sounds like a dick” you joked.

“ yeah but you’ll love Drew he’s literally polar opposite than his character . “

******

"Ahhh she's back!" a blonde headed boy beamed, running over towards your friend, ingulfing her in a hug.

"Rudy this is Y/n" She said with a wide smile, pulling you over.

"Hi" You beamed holding your hand out but Rudy instead pulled you into a hug.

"So glad you finally made it. Maddie over here wouldn't shut up about how much she missed you" He joked.

"Awe Maddie " You said with a sympathetic pout.

"Shut up" She laughed while rolling her eyes before pulling you further into the hotel.

"Guys" She spoke out loudly to a group of people sitting on her couch causing all of their eyes to advert towards you. " This is Y/n" She announced pulling you up next to her.

You awkwardly waved, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as she practically put the spot light onto you.

"I'm Chase" One guy said leaning over the couch, holding his hand out.

"I'm Madelyn " The blonde girl next to him said standing up, walking over towards you. " it's nice to meet you" she beamed, pulling you into a hug.

'Okay so everyone is big into hugs,' you thought. You smiled widely at her before you looked over at another one walking towards you.

"I'm Jonathan Daviss, but you can call me JD" He spoke. you nodded excitedly.

"That's a cool nickname" you beamed, causing a smile to form on his face. You then looked over towards the last face on the couch.

Woah.

Now this man- he almost took your breath away. He stood up, his tall figure stretching high towards the ceiling.

"Hi, i'm Drew" He spoke, his voice the perfect tone, almost sounded like music to your ears. He had these sky blue eyes, perfectly pink lips, a little bit of fuzz on his jaw from being recently shaved, and brown hair draped over the sides of his forehead, parting perfectly down the middle. Your heart began to pound as he reached his hand out for you to shake. You hadn't realized you were staring until Madison nudged you with her elbow, bringing you out of your trance.

"Oh uhm yeah- i mean hi I'm y/n" You stuttered embarrassingly. He smiled a bright smile, his white teeth shining perfectly on his perfectly aligned face.

You sighed deeply. You never believed in love at first sight until now. How perfect this stranger was to you. If it weren't for you not wanting to humiliate yourself even more than you already were, you would've continued looking at him with admiration, but instead you turned your head to look at Maddie, trying to not to creep the poor guy out.

"okay guys I'm starving" Chase spoke up as the room filled with silence. "who wants to go eat?" He asked throwing his hands up. You grinned , already loving everyone's bubbly personality.

You sat your bag down onto the ground before tucking your hair behind your ear, watching as everyone began to make their way out the door.

"After you" Drew said, you and him being the last ones left in the room.

"Thanks" you said softly, walking out in front of him as he held the door open for you.

Who would've known that this would only the beginning of a very special relationship.

********

"Drew" You spoke out before his lips placed onto yours once again, his hand placed firmly on your thigh as your were tangled in his hair.

"Hmm" He hummed against your lips, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

"We should tell them" You breathed out in between kisses.

"Mmm" he mumbled, his eyes closed as his lips trailed down your jaw towards your neck.

"I'm serious Drew I don't want to hide you anymore" You responded pulling away from him.

He stopped his movements, making eye contact with you.

"You sure?" He asked.

You and Drew had instantly hit it off that first weekend Madison brought you over.

It had happened the first night you had stayed the night. Everyone had fallen asleep and you and Drew stayed up for hours on hours endlessly talking about anything and everything. The sparks were flying. You were so engaged in every word that came out of his mouth, his sentences sounding like lullabies to your ears.

Before you had left you both had exchanged numbers and before you could even make it to the airport you were both texting each other. Throughout the first week you both spent every night on the phone until one had fallen asleep. It had almost became addictive the way he made you feel.

Neither of you spoke of your friendship to anyone though. Mainly wanting to take things slow but you also didn't want to upset anyone or cause any issues between Drew and Madison. He assured you it wouldn't upset anyone or cause issues but at the same time he wanted to respect your wishes and keep things a secret.

You both had been virtually seeing each other for three weeks before he flew you out for a weekend, just the two of you. You had stayed with him the whole weekend, movie nights and a lot of sex.

This week though you were invited by the whole group, and right now you were hidden off in Drew's hotel hiding from the group with Drew laid on top of you, the both of you shirtless.

"We can tell them tonight okay, i just want to enjoy the time we have together right now" He insisted. You simply nodded before leaning your head forward before placing your lips against his once again.

Drew sat up, smirking at you as he tugged on your jeans, pulling them down your thighs, exposing your pink laced panties that complimented your skin so well.

"So beautiful" Drew mumbled as his hands massaged against your thighs before reaching up towards your panties pulling them down as well. He reached over to the nightstand grabbing the condom on the top before pushing his own pants down, exposing his hardened pink shaft, the veins popping out the side.

You stared in admiration at the size as he placed the rubber over him.

"Flip over" he instructed. You quickly obliged, your face in his pillow. He tucked his arm under your waist, pulling your hips bag some to wear your bottom was pointed upwards.

You gasped loudly as you felt his tip insert into you, stretching your walls around him.

"fuck" you moaned out as he pushed into you, his hips pressed against your cheeks before he pulled back out, letting your own juices help lubricate him before he pushed back in at a faster speed.

"Fuck you're tight" Drew groaned out as he slowly pulled himself of you again, leaving just the tip in. You looked over your shoulder, smirking up at him as he looked down at you, his Adams apple poking out. Drew sighed heavily , closing his eyes for a brief second almost coming undone right then and there just from the sight of you.

He finally regained his composer, looking back down at you before pressing his hand onto the back of your head pushing your face further into the pillow before he began moving his hips once again, this time at a much faster pace.

"God Drew" you cried out as he hit your spot with each thrust, your hands balling in a fist around his sheets as you struggled to breath, overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you were receiving. You arched your back further against Drew, giving him more access to go deeper into you, your hips moving causing your walls to tighten around him.

"Fuck" He breathed out, lowing his head some as we watched himself sliding in and out of you, his abs flexing with each thrust.

"Oh yes daddy yes "You moaned out, reaching behind you, grabbing hold of his hand that was placed on your bottom.

"You like that baby?" He asked before placing a firm smack against your left cheek. You hissed out , biting down on your bottom lip as your eyes focused on his body jerking forward over and over again, every inch of his body flexing as he moved himself in and out of you.

Since that first weekend you and Drew had spent together alone, he had learned more and more ways to work your body, especially when he realized you enjoyed it rough like him.

"Pull my hair baby" you pleaded, attempting to tug on his hand that had a firm grip on your hip while your body continued rocking back and forth.

Drew quickly obliged, reaching up to grab a hand full of your hair, pulling you back towards him, your back arched to where your arms stretched out, your hands placed against his pillows.

"God yes" You winced out, a slight stinging as he had a tight grip on your hair.

"Fuck princess" he groaned feeling his climax beginning to build. His thrusts began to speed up, your tits bouncing in the air as he continued to pound into you. You leaned up some, arm wrapping around his neck . You both began to lower, you practically sitting in his lap as he leaned back, propped up on one arm as the other had his hand wrapped against your throat. His thrusts were now at a steady but rough pace, slamming up against you as he placed sloppy kisses alongside your shoulder.

"God" He groaned out as his thrusts slowed down, turning more into grinds as his cock pulsed inside you, his warm load filling the condom. You begin rocking your hips back and forth along him riding your own high out, moaning his name out loudly as your toes curled, your climax euphoric. You climbed off of Drew, flopping your body down onto the his bed, breathing heavily as you ran your hands through your hair.

"That was amazing" you breathed out. Drew nodded, himself out of breath as well.

"I'm gonna get a shower" He responded as he stood up, his member beginning to soften. "We gotta meet everyone in two hours. Wanna join?" He asked. You smiled up at him before nodding, grabbing ahold of his reached out hand.

*****

"Finally" Madison groaned as she saw you climbing out of the black SUV that escorted you to the night club you and the gang were linking up at .

"Sorry got caught up" you responded brushing the hair out of your face as the wind blew against it.

"I can see" she chuckled, her eyes focused on the round purple hickey on your collarbone. Your eyes widened, you had almost forgotten about it. You had saw the hickey as you did your make up and Drew's shower but had forgotten to cover it.

"Who were you with?" She asked out of curiosity but you only shook your head, pretending to be shy about your actions.

"ugh okay come on everyone else is inside" She responded. You nodded before tugging slightly on your black dress as it rode up your thighs. You had your hair down with white sneakers on, a simple butterfly necklace and a skin tight strapless dress on that barely that went down a few inches on your thighs.

The music was loud, everyone definitely lit as you both walked in. Your eyes roamed the club. It was definitely a party style. There a lot of people around dancing, and neon objects glowing in the black lights. Madison guided you to the corner booth your shared friends resided in, including Drew.

""You look so cute!" Madelyn beamed as she wrapped you in a tight hug.

"You too babes" You responded, well yelled as you placed your chin on her shoulder, only to see Drew standing behind her, his eyes focused on your body. He almost looked upset. Seeming how you were still on the low about your relationship you didn't confront him, but you did check him out from afar. He stood on the side next to JD black denim jeans with a white striped button up collared shirt, with his signature gold chain around his neck and a black watch on his wrist.

Despite just getting your back blown out by Drew, you had to leave before anyone came searching for you so you didn't get to see Drew dressed up, the last image you had of him was of him in a towel and his wet hair slicked back.

He was looking so good at this point you had to distance yourself from him before you made it obvious of your secret.

"Come dance" Madelyn pleaded tugging on your arm.

"I need to be drunk before i get onto the dance floor" You joked. Madelyn though took you serious and walked over to the bar, ordering at least two shots for everyone since you were each going to be getting an Uber back to the hotels.

"Okay drink up" She responded holding both yours and her shot in the air. You quickly glanced over towards your secret boyfriend who was watching you intensely before you tossed your head back opening your throat, letting the alcohol burn its way down your throat.

"phew" you said, a shiver following shortly after.

"Okay, One more " Madelyn insisted. You didn't plan to get shit faced of course , but you were definitely interested in a good time so you obliged, repeating the same action again, this time the liquids going down a bit easier. You both stood for a second in silence before she shook her head.

"I think one more with do us justice " She grinned. You chuckled, already feeling a slight buzz coming as the alcohol spread through your blood stream.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" You heard someone mumble from behind you. You looked over to see Drew standing behind you. You furrowed your brows together. How the hell did he get over there so fast?

"Don't " you mumbled before looking down at the table trying to avoid his gaze. "You're making it obvious" You responded before taking a step away, turning your back towards him.

Unfortunately you didn't notice how much those words actually upset Drew. IT had almost felt like he was an embarrassment to you with how much effort you put in to hiding him so he walked away, finding his way back next to JD.

"You okay man?" JD asked as he saw the obvious frown on Drew's face.

"Yeah man" He mumbled as he looked across the both of them, watching you quickly gulp away yet another shot of alcohol, bursting into laughter shortly after with Madelyn. He shook his head in disappointment. Of course he wanted you to have fun but he just didn't want you to get so waisted you end up doing something you regret and him not being able to help you since you didn't want him to show his affection towards you in front of everyone.

"Want a shot?" Drew asked glancing over at JD who also looked not too amused at the moment with the environment and in need of some lighting up. They both watched you and Madelyn make your way to the dance floor, merging in with the crowd as the quickly took their first shot, both of them sighing heavily as they attempted to mask the burning feeling.

You immediately began swaying your hips to the upbeat music, the alcohol coursing through your body, giving you an almost out of body type feeling, something you usually didn't get unless you were in bed with Drew.

You didn't intend to jump into the party that fast. after 2 songs Chase had came by with more shots, unaware to the previous t3 you both had taken but neither of you denied them, quickly throwing your head back, wiping the drips off your chin as you looked over at Drew who surprisingly paid you no attention. You dancing slowed down as you realized the group Drew was associating with.

You could see JD and Rudy with Drew which was not an issue. it was the 3 bimbos standing with them too, one in particular standing too close for your comfort towards Drew, her index finger twirling in a poorly curled strand of hair.

You rolled your eyes, jealously now running through you. It was obviously intensified from the alcohol but you wanted to drag him away from the girls and show those girls exactly who he belonged to but you knew you couldn't say anything considering you and him were a secret.

"Hi" You heard from behind you. It was a tall brunette guy, pretty stocky with what looked to be hazel eyes and curly brown hair. At least that what you guessed since the dance floor was only lit up from black lights above you.

"Hi" You said with a friendly smile before turning back around, a frown forming as you noticed Drew laughing at whatever the girl closest to him just said.

"You got a name?" The guy asked, dancing behind you. You turned your head, almost ready to tell him to piss off until you glanced over towards Drew who still had not even given you a glance.

"Y/n" You responded as you turned your body completely around, facing towards him.

You studied his face. He looked cute, or maybe that was just the alcohol clouding your judgment. To your drunken eyes, he favored Timothee Chalamet to you, which was some one who was a sight for sore eyes.

- but, never the less, he wasn't Drew.

The guy mentioned his name back to you but between the alcohol and the music , you didn't hear him clearly. You looked to your side to see Chase and Madelyn in their own little world so you shrugged your shoulders, turning back towards the tall boy.

"You come here with someone?" He asked as he took a step closer, his body swaying along with yours to the music. You glanced over your shoulder towards Drew, the same scenario playing as earlier . You rolled your eyes becoming agitated with Drew before you looked back forward trying not to be obvious.

"I thought i did but it's looking like they didn't come in with me" You said, your lips close to his ear as he leaned forward to hear you.

"Huh" He responded leaning back. "That's to bad. You're very beautiful" He responded. You grinned widely, enjoying the attention.

The song changed, turning to a slower song, a more sensual vibe to it. You turned around, swaying your hips up against the guy as his hand wrapped around your waist.

You usually wouldn't do this, but between the alcohol and your jealousy towards Drew, you were enjoying every second of it in hopes Drew would catch on and realize what he was losing.

And surprisingly , that's exactly what happened.

Drew tried to play things your way. He tried to pretend that there was nothing going on between the two of you. He even gave other women attention to make it believable but it was all fake smiles and laughs when really all he wanted was to hold you. He did try his best though, that is until he looked up to check on you only to see your body being held by another guy, your ass pressed against the guys crotch as he practically dry humped you from behind.

Now Drew didn't drink as much as you did, but he did have 1 to 2 shots , enough to help spark a fire inside of him, rage flowing through his veins. Drew didn't hesitate to make his way over to you, his mind only focused on removing the guy from his girl.

"Y/n what the fuck" He spat out as he tugged on your hand, trying to remove you from him. Your eyes widened, guilt instantly flowing through you. You didn't mean for any of this to happen and seeing Drew standing in front of you fuming, you couldn't help but to feel embarrassed by your actions.

"Man back off alright she's just having a good time" The guy said with a cocky smirk plastered across his face.

"Fuck off " Drew scolded before looking back at you, completely brushing the guy off.

"This is really how you want to sell it ?" He said, his voice louder than normal because of the music, but those surrounding him including Chase and Madelyn hearing.

"Oh go fuck yourself Drew" You scoffed, rolling your eyes. You began to march off of the dance floor, making your way towards the table you were previously at, leaving the stranger stranded.

"REal mature Y/n" He responded following closely behind you. The rest of the group followed behind, beyond confused as to why the two of you would even be arguing like this.

"Oh but you weren't doing the same thing over here with the chick ? Laughing at every little thing she said" You spat out.

He threw his hands up.

"Y/n i was trying to play your little game of secrets" He argued back.

"Wait what secrets?" Madison spat out. The both of you stared at each other, unsure who was going or not going to spill the truth.

"No point in hiding it anymore Y/n" Drew argued. You furrowed your brows in frustration, crossing your arms over your chest as Drew spoke. Which he was absolutely right which upset you anymore.

"Somebody better start talking in point two second or -"

"We're dating" you interrupted, looking over towards Madison.

Everyone's jaw dropped except for JD's, his response was jut of him shaking his head.

"What!?" Madison yelled out in shock.

"Like talking?" She asked, looking between the two of you. " Or like, dating dating?"

"More like dating dating" Rudy butted in, pushing his index finger into a circle he made with his other hand, indicating intercourse.

You quickly placed your head in your hand with embarrassment.

"No fucking way" Chase responded, a wide grin on his face.

"Bro why didn't you tell me?" Chase yelled out placing his hand on Drew's shoulder.

"We didn't want anyone mad at us or like, i don't know it ruin this friendship we all have" You responded, lowering your head in disappointment.

"Y/n are you delusional? Why would that make any of us mad ?" Madison replied with a wide grin on his face.

"You guys, i called it" JD finally spoke, a cocky smirk across his face.

"Whaattt? " you responded looking over at him with confusion.

"You guys have been clung to each other since you first met. I'm not stupid" He laughed. You shook your head, a grin forming on your face.

"Okay the cats out of the bag so you guys don't have to continue pretending okay? " Madelyn responded. "Can we please get back to dancing?" She pleaded. They all nodded before the group once again went their separate ways, leaving you and Drew alone at the table.

"I'm sorry" You responded stepping closer towards him, placing your hand on his.

"ME too" He responded looking down at you.

"I kind of want to get out of here, yanno" You said with a smirk on your face. He grinned back, nodding his head.

"agreed".

*****

Hope you guys liked!

✨feedback as well as a like and reblog is always appreciated 💗✨

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine being Azula’s friend but secretly dating Zuko behind her back

One of the first things you and Azula bonded over was your annoying brothers. Azula told you how her brother had stolen one of her best friends away from her and you related to that. Your twin brother was none other than Sokka of the water tribe, who was also very popular with women. Most of the women you knew liked him, from Yue to Toph to Suki to Ty lee! It sometimes felt like you were the second attraction in a friendship and so you and Azula quickly became close over your shared frustrations.

Then....you betrayed her.

Well, betrayal is a bit dramatic but maybe not given how upset she'd been when Mai and Zuko started dating. You knew that had been hard for Azula to process.  How difficult it had been wondering if her friends really liked her or just wanted access to her brother. So when you started liking Zuko you didn’t plan on acting on it at all. Then Mai broke up with him. 

Zuko was around at yours quite often, whenever he visited the water tribe he stayed in your home and when you visited the fire nation he extended the same hospitality. So throughout the years, you just naturally got closer and closer until....it happened. You started hanging out just the two of you and these occasions felt very date-like until Zuko just outright asked you out. You liked him and told yourself one date was fine, what harm could a single date do? But then as you kept seeing each other and one date soon progressed into many many more you knew your time to do the right thing and tell Azula you were dating her brother was approaching. 

However the idea of doing that idea terrified you. You guessed Azula wouldn’t take it well and didn’t want to lose your friendship with her because of your relationship with Zuko. You wouldn’t break up with Zuko just to make her happy but you also didn’t want to lose Azula’s friendship, so when Katara’s birthday arose you were fairly nervous. There was going to be a large party and all of Katara’s friends were coming...which included Zuko and Azula. You hadn’t been together with everyone since you and Zuko started dating so you had no idea how it would feel. The whole time you and Zuko would have to convincingly act like you weren’t a couple and not make anyone at the party suspicious of the two of you. So when Zuko’s ship got in you fixed your eyes on Azula and tried not to stare at him any more than usual. You greeted him formally and didn’t admire him as you usually would. You fell in step with Azula and decided just to focus on her. It wasn’t hard, you were best friends and very close...however fate was not on your side. You got seated across from him at dinner which felt like some sick punishment and struggled not to get lulled into conversation with him. It didn’t help that Zuko was in a playful mood. He kept making comments about the things you’d done on your date and then sending you sly looks across the table. When you met his eye he smirked blatantly and you lightly kicked him under the table. That only made Zuko chuckled and look adorable so you sighed and decided to just keep your eyes down the whole time to survive dinner. 

However, Zuko had no intention of stopping his teasing. After dinner you set about preparing the party for Katara tomorrow and having sent Sokka, Aang, Suki, Azula and Toph on their assigned jobs turned to your job of decorating. You were hanging streamers in the living room when you felt a hand curl around your waist. “Need some help there?” Zuko asked moving closer and he leaned up over you to hang it. “I could have done that myself” you smiled turning to face him and Zuko shrugged “I know you could’ve, but then I wouldn’t have been able to do this”. Zuko gently kissed your neck trailing down to your collar bone making you sigh. “Zuko...stop” you said faint heartedly and Zuko sensed that smirking "I don’t want to and you don’t want me to either, I can tell by how softly you said my name" he smiled "it’s been so long since we’ve had any time together". Your skin erupted in goosebumps and a shiver went down your spine as Zuko pressed closer against you. But you knew how badly this could end if literally anyone walked in. So swiftly you grabbed Zuko’s hands and twisted your way out of them. You held them tightly in one hand so he couldn’t try and slink around you again and used the other to make him look at you "Zuko we can’t okay, not on this trip. God knows i want to, i’ve missed you too but there’s too much that could go wrong i’m sorry". Zuko sighed but nodded his head "don’t worry i understand". Zuko’s shoulders sagged and you knew your insistance on keeping this quiet was difficult for him. "Thank you for understanding" you said hugging him quickly "i know it can’t be easy for you and I appreciate the effort you're going to for me". Zuko smiled resting his head on top of yours "it’s fine, i’d do a lot more for you if you asked but promise me it won’t always be like this....we will tell everyone soon?". You gulped but nodded pulling away "i promise, i will tell Azula...soon!". Zuko nodded “I believe you” and let his hands drop away from you. Not a moment later Sokka and Aang appeared in the room making the two of you jump. “Zuko just the man we need! We were thinking of making an ice sculpture, fancy some fire bending?”. Zuko nodded “sure” and with a last glance to you left the room. 

Hours later the party preparations finished you returned to your room which you were sharing with Azula for her visit. “Sokka made me blow up balloons” she said angrily “something about fire benders being full of hot air”. You smirked at your brother’s nerve when Azula’s next sentence wiped it off your face.  "Also I think Zuko’s dating someone again" Azula said softly and you paused. "Ow really?" you asked and she nodded "he’s been spending a suspicious amount of time in the southern water tribe lately. Lots of visits which he claims are diplomatic but I can’t work out what he actually does here! He doesn’t know that many people and so it got me thinking, y/n do you think your brother and mine....". "No Sokka's still with Suki" you said shaking your head. Azula sighed “and it’s obviously not Katara, she and Aang are basically married, have you seen him hanging around anyone else? He doesn’t know many people so it should be easy to spot". You paused pretending to think but were really just trying to buy yourself time. "Honestly i don’t pay much attention to him when he visits" you said cleverly covering your back "but i will from now on and let you know". "Thank you y/n" Azula smiled. You smiled back relieved Azula didn’t suspect anything and let out a large breath you’d been holding for this entire conversation. You were now more than ready for sleep and got into bed hurriedly. You laid your head on your pillow and closed your eyes utterly exhausted. 

"Goodnight y/n" Azula called and you nodded. You were very sleepy and after a long yawn smiled "good night Zuko".

You realised the name you’d said seconds after it came out of your mouth. 

You froze

As did azula.

"Did you just call me Zuko...". You blinked "did i? I’m sure i said Azula". Azula was quiet for 2 seconds before she shot up "it’s you!" she cried "you're the one my brother’s dating!". "No Azula that’s crazy!!! We'd just been discussing Zuko, that’s why he was on my mind!". Azula shook her head "you're lying! I can tell by the tone of your voice! You’re the new girlfriend aren’t you?". You sighed "Azula i’m sorry i was going to tell you...". "I can’t believe you" Azula yelled and suddenly the door opened. "What’s wrong?" Sokka and Zuko asked bursting in “we heard yelling” and Azula glared. "You! Couldn't just have Mai huh? Had to take another one of my friends? How about when you’re done with y/n you try things with Ty lee?". "Ow she told you...." Zuko frowned awkwardly. "No i worked it out!” Azula spat “Y/n accidentally uttered your name because she’s so lovesick" Azula cried "you both make me sick" and she strode away slamming the front door hard as she exited the house.

After Azula left you all looked at one another unsure what to do or say next. "So...you two are a thing?" Sokka asked and Zuko paused "yes...is your reaction going to be as bad as Azula’s or can i go deal with her?". Sokka shook his head "go deal with her before she burns the village down”. Zuko went to move past Sokka when your brother put a hand to his chest "but come back and see me after, me and Katara will want to talk to you about dating our sister". Zuko surprisingly looked intimidated and nodded "I'll be right back". "Zuko wait i should come too" you called "this is as much my fault as yours". Zuko nodded "let’s go" and led you outside into the cold night after Azula.

You found Azula trekking in the snow and as she wasn’t in proper shoes you gained on her quickly. “Azula!” you called and she jumped. She looked around and glared “ow look the happy couple, how nice of you to grace me with your presence”. Zuko rolled his eyes “only you’d be so attention-seeking to make this about you”. “Attention seeking? Who’s the person who can’t form his own friendships or respect boundaries? No always have to date my friends, is it some weird way for you to gain power over me? A sad way to boost your ego?”. As Zuko and Azula went to square up to each other you stepped between them. “Alright enough the both of you! Zuko please go back to the house, i’ll handle this”. “But she...”. “Zuko please” you said sharply and he nodded “fine” and with a glare left. You watched him go before turning back to Azula. You’d been about to suggest you go home given that Azula was surely freezing out here in the middle of the night but Azula broke into a rant. "Everyone leaves me for him" she cried "Mai! My uncle! Mother! Even my father...after i was smarter, a better fire bender, more loyal and younger he still gave Zuko every little chance and only crowned me after Zuko literally ran away! When will i be good enough people don’t just choose him without a second thought for me?". "Azula i didn’t choose Zuko over you! Just because i like Zuko doesn’t mean i don’t like you still". "That may be true but this changes our friendship completely, it did with Mai! People always prioritise their partners over their friends so i’ll be second best once again". "Are you kidding?" you asked "Azula now i need you more than ever! Relationships aren’t when you ditch your friends, they’re when you need them the most! Who else are you going to go to for a break or a nice getaway? Who else is going to support and love you in only the platonic way a friend can? Who else can i complain about Zuko to when he annoys me or we fight?" you asked "they’re all things you need your friends for! Desperately and that’s going to be the same for me". "But when Mai dated him...". "But i’m not Mai" you smiled softly "Azula we are good friends, i won’t sideline you because of this. You mean just as much to me now as before i started dating Zuko". Azula huffed but you could see her melting. "So...how about we go inside, get some warm milk and talk a bit more about this huh?". You offered Azula your hand and she took it but she didn’t stop there. Azula threw her arms around you and hugged you tightly. "I’m partly doing this for the cold but thank you" she said softly "nobodies ever tried to make me feel supported when they've chosen Zuko, they just tell me to deal with it but you’re the first to try and reassure me and so i know you mean it, to still be my friend". "Of course" you smiled "you're my best friend!". Azula smiled and linked her arm through yours "i like that!”. 

Zuko stared in awe as you and Azula returned grinning. "How did it go is everything okay?". You nodded "your extremely cool sister is fine with it". "Yes i thought this would be a great way to have an inside scoop on you zuzu". "She’s kidding i won’t talk to her about you...a lot". Zuko blinked "okay if everything's okay then i should go speak to Sokka and Katara, they’re waiting for me in the kitchen". Azula smiled "that’s a good idea, when you come back zuzu find me, i have some threats about what will happen if you hurt my best friend". You smiled at Azula and stepped to Zuko "good luck but don’t worry Sokka’s all bite, Katara’s the one to look out for but she has a big heart, just tell her how good a time we’ve had and you’ll be fine". "Good tips, any for my sister?". You smiled "Azula is one i have not worked out yet" you grinned "but i’m sure you’ll manage, you are the firelord after all". Zuko smirked and you patted his shoulder "after your appointment with my brother and sister and then your sister....you could always come find me in your room?". Zuko smiled "is that my motivation for surviving this?". You shrugged "you can think of it as that" and stepped away from him. Zuko watched you before sighing "alright let’s get this over with” he said loudly and strode towards the kitchen.

You turned back to Azula who raised an eyebrow at Zuko’s sudden confidence and she frowned. "Do i even want to know?" Azula asked and you shook your head "no". “Ow and don’t worry if I’m not in our room tonight”. “Euch Y/n!” Azula cried and you shrugged “what? I didn’t say why”. “I know why” she sighed before she smiled “at least I can have your bigger bed”. “Be my guest” you smiled, you had a firelord to get reacquainted with. 

[babydaddyleorio]

How they would act on a plane

These are very much crack headcanons because I needed something to help me escape my writing plateau lmao

                                    How they would act on a plane

Chrollo

-If he’s sitting next to a girl? Oh he’s flirting the whole plane ride.

-Literally won’t shut up and tells her this very extravagant story trying to woo her, the whole time eyeing the necklace that’s placed on her neck.

-Also did I mention that he’s in first class? Yeah he definitely tied up some guy in the bathroom and “borrowed” his ticket.

-He’ll order drinks for him and the girl and will secretly pay for them with her money.

-A true finesser.

-Even the flight attendants love him. He has so many numbers now.

-If he does happen to sit by himself, he’ll probably read a book while listening to classical music.

-He refuses to sleep because he feels like he has enemies everywhere watching him.

-like please you are not the main character Chrollo take the damn nap. 

Shalnark

-He's on his phone the whole time but he’s so obnoxious with it. He purposefully has his volume all the way up just to annoy everyone around him.

-He’ll play games like candy crush and laughs super loudly If he makes a match and groans sadly If he runs out lives.

-The old man next to him wants to bang his head against the chair in front of him because he literally won’t shut up.

-Doesn’t put his phone on airplane mode.

-Probably hacks into the plane. Literally will make the bathroom have the occupied sign on the whole plane ride so no one could use It.

-Has a needle in the pilot’s neck just for fun.

-Also has the plane doing loopity loops in the sky and everyone is screaming for their lives while he’s just laughing evilly.

-Claps when the plane lands.

Feitan

-He just reads the whole ride.

-If you accidentally brush his arm he gives you a death glare.

-He has to jump to reach the overhead because it’s too high.

-He woke up way too early so he’s in a “I hate everyone” type of mood.

-Hisses when the person beside him tries to open up the window.

-He accidentally sits next to an escape exit and when the flight attendant asks him If he’s ready to save others just in case something happens he’s like “....No.”

-Refuses to change his answer too

-Listens to music on his playlist and silently pretends to be in a music video.

Franklin

-Takes up all of the space and squishes you.

-You wonder how the hell his earlobes got that long and he would say something smart to you like “It’s rude to stare.”

-Well excuse me...

-Someone in front him will lean back in their seat and their hair covers the movie he’s watching. 

-Is scared to move it so he just sits there like “😐”.

-All the drinks are too small to fit in his hand so he awkwardly sips from the straw that’s poked in his apple juice box.

-Someone ends up leaning their head on his shoulder while they are sleeping.

-Doesn’t know what to do now and is frantically looking around for help.

Machi

-Knitting or sewing the whole time.

-Do not try to talk to her. She won’t respond.

-Has a window seat because she likes to peacefully look at the clouds and city lights as she’s sewing.

-Also to imagine Hisoka falling from the sky without a parachute.

-Ah, so tranquil.

-Doesn’t like riding on planes because they’re kind of scary. She would never tell anyone that though. 

-Wanted to sit next to Pakunoda but instead got stuck sitting next to a chihuahua who won’t stop yapping at her the entire ride. 

-Has to stop herself from yeeting it out the window.

-The dog will see he’s not getting through to her, so he’ll slowly raise his leg up and Machi will literally start screaming at what he’s trying to do. 

-Yeah she hates her life.

Shizuku

-You can hear pierce the veil blasting from her headphones.

-Binky has its own seat for some reason.

-She goes to the bathroom and once she sees that It’s occupied (kudos to Shalnark) she will turn to go back to her seat but already forgot where she sits.

-The type to bring a book that she never reads.

-If the person next to her is watching a movie, she’ll change It simply because she doesn't like It.

-There’s one flight attendant constantly flirting with her and she gets a lot of free drinks because of them.

-Of course she never catches on and forgets who they are every time they try to talk to her.

Phinks

-Will argue with the flight attendant about how expensive the peanuts are.

-After like five minutes, he finally buys the peanuts and once he’s about to eat them the turbulence becomes so strong that It makes them fly everywhere.

-He has to resist the urge to punch the air.

-Phinks has to have an aisle seat because he gets paranoid easily.

-Phinks will try to go to sleep but there will be a kid constantly kicking the back of his chair.

-He will turn around and would be about to throat punch the kid when suddenly he sees how hot his mom is.

-Simp mode activated.

-He’ll try to flirt with the mom but the kid will notice and he ends up “accidentally” squirting his drink in Phinks face.

-Yeah It’s on sight when he gets off the plane.

Nobunaga

-Watches a movie, probably one dealing with samurai. 

-Somehow got past security with his Katana?

-Most likely because of Shalnark

-Ate really bad airport food which messed up his stomach.

-Feels sick and tries to hold It in, but you can tell by his face that he’s struggling. The old lady beside him stares with wide eyes once she hears his stomach literally start beat boxing.

-He runs down the aisle clenching his cheeks and knocks harshly on the bathroom door, but he sees that sign says occupied.

-Nobunaga is shouting at the non-existent person in there to hurry up holding his stomach.

-Shalnark Is eating popcorn and laughing at Nobunaga as he watches him through the security camera.

-Goes to ask the flight attendant for hemorrhoid cream

Pakunoda 

-Is really nice and will talk to you If you start a conversation with her

-Has earbuds packed for the altitudes and offers you some as well

-Turns her brightness down as she reads smut on her phone. Literally turned her whole body and everything so no one could see the words.

-Her face is so red as she stares at her phone and the flight attendant is so concerned that they ask if she’s okay. Pakunoda jumps so high and almost chucks her phone once she sees them standing over her, scared that they’ll see that she commented “😩💦” under the fanfic.

-Brings homemade snacks and sandwiches that no one wants 

-Has a window seat because she wanted to look out the window and see how small the land is below her

-Unlike Machi, Pakunoda has a cat sitting next to her and the cat absolutely loves her.

-Will probably steal it 

Uvogin

-sleeps the whole ride with a mask over his eyes and a neck pillow that he swiped from someone earlier.

-He snores sooo loudly and everyone around him is irritated because they can’t go to sleep because of It

-He would eat all the food on the plane

-Is the type to laugh very loudly at the movie playing or give commentary about each scene that’s happening

-Didn’t bring any luggage with him and… yeah...

-His head touches the ceiling of the plane and Its really uncomfortable 

-Has no Idea where he’s going but got on the plane anyway

Hisoka (honorable mention)

-Somehow sits in first class with Chrollo and once Chrollo sees him he almost loses his shit

- “This seat is taken.” Chrollo would say while staring straight ahead but Hisoka ignores him and sits down anyway.

- “Do you not enjoy my company?” He’d tease while licking his lips.

-Chrollo immediately gets him kicked out.

-So now he’s stuck in economy with the rest of the troupe. None of them let him sit with them either.

-Finds an empty seat and sits down In it and starts laughing to himself because he’s plotting on how to get back to first class.

-The person sitting next to Hisoka is legit terrified and they side eye him the whole ride while clutching their bag to their chest.

-Will trip people walking down the aisle with his bungee gum.

-He would purposefully take his time to get his bag out, creating a long line for no reason.

-Whole time doesn’t even have a bag.

-Is banned from ever riding a plane again.

[mimzy-writing-online]

Writing Toph Beifong, Advice from a Blind Writer

I’m Mimzy, an actual visually impaired writer and blogger who talks a lot about writing blind characters accurately and sensitively. A while back someone sent me an anon asking how to write Toph more accurately and sensitively.

Anonymous asked: Hi there! Your blog has been super-helpful already - I thought I knew a bit about writing with blind characters, but it turns out there was a lot to learn - but this is more specific. I'm writing a The Last Airbender fanfiction, and one of the characters is Toph. I think the fandom has done a fairly good job of respecting her blindness, but what are some things you'd like to see when people write her? I want to represent the character as best as possible; thanks in advance!

It’s taken a while for me to answer because I have a lot of thoughts about it as both a blind writer and someone who has read a lot of atla fanfiction. So here we go:

Before we get started, I want to mention some things: 

One: I have an entire series for writing blind characters that continues to grow with time and the most up-to-date version can be found pinned as the top post on my blog. There will be a time-stamp for when the post was last edited and a long series of links to all relevant posts on the subject.

Here’s a quick link to that post, but again, all you have to do is click my blog url and you’ll find it immediately.

Two: I’ve noticed something amazing about the atla fandom and I would like to thank you for it. I’ve noticed a lot of bloggers have taken to writing image descriptions for both the fanart and memes you post in the fandom, whether it’s OP including the description or another blogger adding it themselves. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a fandom so consistently doing this and that’s incredible. Realizing how many different blogs were picking up this habit has warmed my heart.

I’d like to see writers use her other senses. There’s soooo so much more to her O&M (Orientation and Mobility) than earth sense. 

Beyond sight and earth bending, there’s hearing, touch, smell, taste, sense of direction, hot vs cold, sense of pain, sense of where your body parts are in relation to the rest of you, sense of internal well-being, etc. Before Toph had mastery of her earth bending, she had to have mastery of those too.

Toph also must have very strong opinions about certain smells, sounds, tastes, and textures. Toph is opinionated about everything, and when so much of your understanding of the world depends on senses that most people are ignoring in favor of some other sense you don’t have, it gets frustrating. I’m sure that tree looks pretty but the smell is terrible. Who cares if this fabric looks pretty, it’s scratchy, do. not. like. at. all.

But also in positive ways too. Oh, that flower arrangement looks bland and monochromatic? Who cares, it smells sweet and honey-like. Weird dark cavern with high ceiling and no light? The harmonics are awesome.

Every character probably has a certain sight or image they’re particularly fond of: Katara watching snow fall, or Aang enjoying how small the world looks from up on Appa, or Zuko enjoying the sunrise every morning during meditation. In that line, Toph must have some things personal to her that she enjoys.

I imagine she likes the taste of foods familiar to her childhood, the smell of whatever flowers grew around her home, and the texture of certain kinds of dirt Example: loose dirt probably isn’t the best for seeing, but I think she would enjoy how it feels to run her fingers through it or maybe enjoy the way it softens her perception of the world the same way sighted people like to see colorful, bright lights reflecting off puddles in the middle of rain.

If you struggle with this, that’s okay. I recommend taking some time to think about it for yourself, to find what tastes and smells and textures and sounds you enjoy the most, what makes you feel safe and at home, what brings you comfort, and relate that back to Toph.

In a Modern AU, I want to see Toph have a cane. Even in a Modern AU with bending included in the world building, I think Toph would benefit from having a cane.

The cane has a lot more function than bumping into things. A big part is that it signals to others that you are very obviously blind. Which is a big deal because sighted people are really, really bad at spotting the blind person.

(psst, please stop saying ‘the blank look in her eyes’ because I swear to god it’s been killing me inside for years.)

Also, even in an AU with bending, I think Toph would like the advantage of tapping her cane to create a stronger, more distinct vibration than a small shifting of her weight on her feet. It would have more control.

You could give Toph a guide animal, buuuuuuut, um, Toph is not a guide dog person. Like, there are some people who definitely prefer a guide dog, and some people who definitely prefer a cane, and some who definitely prefer no mobility device at all. Toph does not have the vibes of someone who wants to be both responsible and reliant on an animal when she’s so insistent that she can take care of herself on her own. Toph likes animals, but not that much.

Although, yeah, only 10% of the blind community use mobility devices, so cane and guide dog users are the minority of the blind community, but I stand by the vibe that Toph would love the independence of a cane. Also, it’s almost never ever done. Modern AUs never seem to touch much on Toph’s O&M skills with canes or guide dogs.

I wrote a whole post on everything you need to know about canes, what orientation and mobility is, how you learn O&M, what kind of canes exist, how to use them, how to describe the sensory input a cane gives you, and everything I know about guide dogs from past research.

Honestly, you could give Toph (or any blind character) a cane in any AU, because I fully stand by the theory that canes are a piece of technology that has been invented, lost, and reinvented again and again.

I wrote “I found a piece of lost blindness history” a few months ago after a visit to see my grandparents. My grandmother told me how her blind aunt found a way to write letters by hand to send to my grandmother when she was a child. I speculated on how the long cane has probably been invented and then lost and then reinvented over and over again in history, as well as giving a little history on the growing popularity of guide dogs in the 20th century following World War 1.

About the “blank look in her eyes,” I have a theory to the exact cause and nature of Toph’s blindness.

I know it’s common to think that the milky green color of her eyes is why she’s blind, though I’m not sure how many realize that milky green color is caused by severe cataracts. At least, cataracts is what I assume to be the reason for the color of her eyes. However, people with cataracts still have some remaining sense of light and shadow perception.

Only 9% of the blind community is completely blind, seeing absolutely nothing. The rest have some remaining vision, even if that’s only light and shadow perception or the perception of vague movement.

The percentage of people born completely blind is even smaller.

Toph says that she’s never been able to see, which would lead me to guess that the initial cause of her blindness was a defect with the visual processing part of her brain. I also theorize that the cataracts developed slowly over her very formative years and that she likely wasn’t born with them. For that reason, I think it would have taken a few weeks or months for her parents to realize there was something wrong with her eyes.

Here is a post about the developmental years of blind children and how their life would differ from both sighted children and from someone who went blind as an adult.

What is it like to see nothing?

It’s a concept that sighted people struggle with and I completely understand. I myself didn’t understand the concept of “nothing” until someone explained it as this:

“Imagine trying to see out the back of your head.”

Which, genuinely, imagine that. Try that. Because here’s what I found. There’s no part of my body that can help perceive that. I don’t have eyes there, nor do I have a part of my brain that can process that. Because of this, there is no sense of light or dark, no shape or shadow or movement or depth that I can perceive. There is nothing.

And honestly, it gives me a headache trying to think too much about it.

Toph doesn’t see black, doesn’t have a mental image of it. When people talk about light and dark, Toph has nothing to base the concept on. The closest relation she has to that is silence versus sound, or her earth sense when she’s in the air on Appa versus when she’s on solid ground. But it’s not the same.

I would like to examine the way the show tried to describe Toph’s earth sense, that black void with ripples of white stretching from her feet and outwards. Television is a visual medium so of course their explanation of Toph’s earth sense would be visual, but that’s not what it’s actually like in her head. More accurately, it’s like touching the back of your head to something and feeling what’s solid behind it and what has more give. A wall versus a pillow for example. Slamming your hand on a flimsy table and feeling it rattle under your palm. And for someone so adept at using that sense, she feels not just the table surface under her palm, but the individual rattles down the four legs, how uneven those rattles are because the legs are carved decoratively instead of solid planks, and how the foot of each leg bumps against the ground, and how the floor vibrates in response to the impact, which she feels in both her feet and hand. 

About Toph’s Relationship with Her Parents

It’s not something I see touched on much. There’s been a lot of focus on Zuko and Azula’s relationship with their parents and the abuse, as well as exploration of Sokka and Katara’s trauma with losing their mother, and Sokka looking up to his warrior father while Katara struggles with her abandonment issues.

Please don’t take this as a critique, because there are a few valid reasons for this and I would like to give you some insight on how to explore Toph’s relationship with her parents.

For starters, the show had a lot more reason to focus on Zuko and Azula’s parents, with Fire Lord Ozai being the primary villain and Zuko’s greatest abuser, and Azula’s dependent worship of her father in response to Ursa’s neglect and favoritism of Zuko, which was likely Ursa’s response to Ozai’s favoritism of Azula. Their parents are huge driving motivators for why Zuko and Azula make the decisions and mistakes they do, why they are at one point in the show the villains themselves. (And why I think Azula should get a redemption arc and some healing.)

Katara’s trauma of losing her mother and blaming herself is a huge factor in both her response to the war, her relationship with her bending, and her motherly nature with her friends. The show has to explore that. Just as it has to explore Sokka’s problems with toxic masculinity in response to being the man of his village, and his desire to be a great warrior and leader like the father he idolizes. 

The show needs to explore that to make the plot move forward, and it benefits from these being two sibling sets with different responses to their upbringing and different sibling dynamics, setting them up as foils for each other.

The show also wouldn’t benefit by giving Lao and Poppy Beifong more screen time. Their established character were two nobles who kept as far out of the war as possible and prospered monetarily for it. Poppy was polite and demure and Lao liked to lead the conversation. Unless the gAang decided to return to Toph’s home, those characters had no reason to pop up anywhere in the show. And if they did, they would be a hinder to Toph and her part in the plot as both Aang’s earth bending teacher and as the greatest earth bender in the world, tossing Fire Nation soldiers eight ways to Sunday. 

So truly, I understand that there’s not a whole lot of canon material (comparatively) to go off of when developing this, but I will offer some insight on what is there in canon.

Toph’s relationship with her parents is explored in that it maps out why Toph doesn’t want to be mothered by Katara, why she wants to prove how independent she is, but there’s very little on screen interaction between Toph and her parents.

Toph deeply loves her parents. I think that plays into why she doesn’t want Katara mothering her, because she has a wonderful mother at home who she loves and wants to better understand her, but she had no friends growing up and no older sister, which are the roles she needs and wants Katara to fill. If Toph wanted a mother figure, she would have latched onto Katara. Look at how Zuko never sought out another mother figure but did find a father figure in Iroh as he began to heal from his childhood trauma and separate his self image from his father’s acceptance.

Toph is in a complicated situation, she loves her parents but the way they’re raising her is hurting her in the long run. But Toph can see that their actions are because of their immense love for her. She can see how they would do anything for her. While she never had any examples of how other noble children were treated by their parents, who might have been distant or disinterested or always away for their social and work lives, she was remarkably loved by her parents. Her father put careful thought into her tutors and checked in on her progress. Her mother feared for Toph’s emotional state when she was kidnapped (even if she was incorrect about how Toph would respond), showing genuine empathy for her daughter.

I think their over protective nature became the love language Toph best understood them by, and part of her reasoning for not revealing how capable she was, was because she wanted to keep experiencing that love and care for as long as she could. But it’s not a love language she would put up with from anyone else.

I would like to point out Toph’s genuine excitement to see her mom again in the season finale of Book Two, how badly Toph wants her mom to understand and accept her for who she is.

My thoughts on what Toph can’t do: read, swim, see in the sand, fight things mid-air.

For how incredibly powerful the show makes Toph with her earth bending and the O&M she taught herself through it, they do touch on some of her weaknesses when they come up and find a useful way to showcase them.

The Serpent’s Pass was an excellent example of Toph’s vulnerability in water. From her fear of not being able to see on Katara’s ice bridge to not being able to swim and needing Suki to save her, Toph’s weaknesses putting her in danger added to the excitement and “sitting on the edge of your seat” feeling while watching the episode without turning her into someone who was helpless. She was just in a position where her normal defenses were useless.

Just like the earth benders in the metal prison in the ocean, or Katara having little water in the middle of a desert where her friends needed that water to survive more than she needed it to fight, making her vulnerable later in the show when the insect-wasp things attacked. Just like fire benders being weaker at night, or powerless during a solar eclipse, or a sighted person being lost in the dark. Those were just situations in which the tools you were accustomed to relying on could no longer help you or were taken away.

The show was clever in that it didn’t make her inability to read a direct threat to her safety, but rather as a clever plot device for her to be alone when the sand banders attacked and have to choose between fighting them to save Appa, or holding back an entire fricking building by the tiniest spire on its very top from falling into a void leading to the spirit world. It also showed her weakness to not being able to see or fight as well in sand. Which the show later made an effort to show how she’d improved on that problem in Book Three when she was surrounded by nothing but sand at Ember Island.

Like improving her ability to see in the sand, I would like to see a character teach Toph to swim, or at least float, so that she never feels helpless again. If she took the initiative to improve her sand bending so much, I’m sure she would have learn to swim eventually.

And on the note of reading, I’ve seen some speculation on how Toph could learn to read, whether it’s through using ink that has some percentage of earth mixed in, or developing the sensitivity to feel out the different weight, consistency, and texture of ink on paper. 

I would like to bring your attention to Louis Braille, the blind Frenchman who invented Braille while studying at  the Institut National des Jeunes Aveugles, the world’s very first school for the blind in Paris France (established 1785). Previously Louis was learning to read through a method in which each letter was pressed into the paper to leave an imprint that someone could feel out with just their fingers.

Louis Braille concluded that raised lettering was impractical because-

1.       It is difficult to read, the letters had to be printed in huge font to be fully felt out and printed on thick paper.

2.       Thick paper means higher quality, more expensive. Larger font means more paper is needed for a single text.

3.       This made it inaccessible due to expense and the sheer volume of a text.

4.       If today’s Braille books are hard to access and giant compared to traditional books, I can’t imagine how inaccessible those raised letter books really were.

The subject of Braille, the start and controversial near downfall to  Institut National des Jeunes Aveugles were discussed in a post about writing a blind character during the Victorian Era.

I’ve heard others complain in the past about fantasy universes in which a sighted person invents a solution to allow the blind to read, when the most effective and longest lived method was invented by a blindman over two hundred years ago and is the standard taught in schools today.

And while I couldn’t easily explain it or how it works because I can neither read Braille nor speak Chinese, I can tell you that Chinese Braille exists and works only slightly differently from the Braille western languages use. So, again, modern AUs especially would benefit from enabling Toph to read Braille and use a computer and phone with screen reader.

But just as easily you could choose not to have her learn to read but rather have sighted people read things aloud to her. Whether it’s in a professional setting as an adult having an assistant who reads and writes for her, or as a cute, fluffy little moment between Toph and another character. Both are just as genuine to the blindness experience.

Blind Jokes

If you ever get around to reading my post about blind jokes, I’d like you to remember that it’s primarily written for people writing original characters and that Toph canonically makes blind jokes, so to take away from that would not be true to her character.

Does Toph’s Earth Sense Negate her Blindness?

It’s a question I’ve seen raised before and discussed by both abled, disabled, and blind people. There are multiple perspectives on it, but my own take on it is that Toph’s earth bending does not negate her blindness, but rather functions very much like the process of learning to use a cane.

She had a tool, a teacher, and she learned to use that tool. Instead of a cane, it was seismic perception and her teacher were blind badger-moles. She spent years learning to earth bend as they do and then continued to take it to new heights as she explored fighting with it on her terms against sighted fighters.

Come to think about it, I would love to see Toph teach another visually impaired or blind earth bender who to see and bend as she does.

Is Toph Good Blindness Representation?

This question was posed to me in the comments of my master post, and my answer was something like this: “Toph is good representation, but she can't be the only type of representation we get. She's the best we had 15 years ago, but there are a million ways to nuance the blindness experiences. Toph's experience being born blind, having very over protective parents, being a small girl in a patriarical and wealth influenced society, having no friends growing up. Those are all great aspects of blindness to show, but there is so much more to explore. As for her blindness and whether or not that's negated, that's also nuanced. She has limits, she's not all-powerful, but she is the best earth bender hands down. More or less, I love Toph, she's a great character, give me like a million more blind characters who are completely different from her.”

I want to see accurate and well-written blind characters become much more common in modern media, and that’s why I started this blog. So if you decide you want to write your own blind character from scratch, feel free to come back and look at some of my other stuff.

End Notes:

I want to thank the anon who sent the original question because it never occurred to me how much the atla fandom would benefit from a post like this. 

You should follow my blog. Along with advice about writing blind characters, I write general writing advice and answer questions about writing, college, plot development, character analysis, and living with blindness. I curate writing advice from fellow writeblrs, write my own image descriptions for writing memes, post about mental health and working/living with ADHD, disabilities outside of blindness, and LGBTQA+ topics. 

[sugarbooger513]

JJK Men x Insecure chubby Fem!reader

Today has been hard to think of myself positively, and I have friends who struggle with the same thing, so I thought I could indulge some people with some very loved characters reminding us that, no matter our size, we're perfect.

Characters: Satoru Gojo, Toji Fushiguro, Choso Kamo, Kento Nanami

Warnings: Insecurities, body dysphoria, Toji's gets spicy (sue me), suggestive at the end of Nanami's, tooth rotting fluff.

Satoru Gojo

- Let's be completely honest here, this man rarely feels insecure, if he ever does.

- He wouldn't be able to sympathize, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. In fact, it makes him care a lot more.

- His comfort methods aren't for everyone either, so be prepared. He's trying, give him that.

- Humor. That's what this man knows. Iykyk, this man deflects any form of trauma with his humor.

- If he notices it isn't working, then he'll come up with something else because he loves you. That love tells him that he has to try.

"Oh sweetie pie, I'm home!" Satoru's voice carries easily through the house, but you can't seem to care at the moment. Your cheeks still feel somewhat sticky from the tears that have fallen the past thirty minutes.

"Honey bun? I said I-" His voice cuts off, and you know you're caught. The bed shifts where your boyfriend lowers himself beside you. "Y/N, why are you crying?"

"I-I don't want to talk about it, Satoru." He removes his blindfold with a small chuckle. "Did your favorite anime character die?" "No." "You sure? You tend to sob when-" "I said I don't want to talk about it."

He freezes at the way you lash out at him. Yeah, something is actually wrong.

"Love," his voice softens in a way that shows how worried he is, "is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?" You're quiet for a minute, but you eventually scoot closer to him.

"You want me to hold you?" All you manage is a nod before more tears slide down your cheeks. His long arms encase you securely against him. "I can do that as long as you need. I'm here for you, Y/N."

The two of you stay like that, you crying softly into his uniform while he runs his hand up and down your back.

Eventually, your sobs turn into small sniffles, and you finally speak. "I.. I'm sorry for snapping at your earlier, Sato." He smiles at the loving nickname. "No, baby, I'm sorry for joking around. You wanna talk about it now?"

"I just... I was thinking about.. how many girls looks so much better than I do." He scoffs. "You're kidding, right?" "Sato.." "No, I mean that. It isn't a joke. Baby, we've been through this since day one. I. Want. You."

You hide your now blushing face against his chest. "But.. I just don't understand.." "Look at me, baby." When you do, his bright blue eyes seem to shimmer. "You're the love of my life. You're gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, and every other synonym to those that I'll have to get Nanami to teach me because I will remind you everyday until it gets through your thick ass skull."

His hand comes up to rest on your chubby cheek, where he starts to wipe away the drying tears. "I. Love. You. So. Freaking. Much. Y/N." Each word is punctuated with a kiss on a different part of your face, until he eventually meets your lips.

The small giggles you let out makes him smile. "There's that beautiful laugh! Come on, why don't I pop some popcorn and we go watch whatever you want on the TV?" Your shit eating grin makes him snort a bit of laughter. "Even if it ends in a favorite character dying?"

"I don't mind having to hold you a bit longer."

Toji Fushiguro

- This is also someone I don't think can really empathize with you and your insecurities.

- However, when this man falls he falls HARD

- He will do anything in his power to make you feel better.

- Well

- Anything he can do while still seeming nonchalant about it

- Lets talk about how this man would take matters into his own hands, with his own hands, to make sure you know how loved you are. (You couldn't have expected just fluff with him, give me a break y'all.)

"Y/N," Toji kicks his shoes off carelessly at the door, "I'm home." He raises a confused eyebrow when he looks around the house. Plates from your movie night yesterday lay strewn about the coffee table, still.

'She never leaves dishes out. That's weird.'

He starts to walk around the house, worry filling his chest. It just isn't like you to leave a mess, or to not greet him at the door. There's no way someone came and did something to you, right? No one is THAT dumb, surely.

When he hears the small sniffles coming from your shared bedroom, he breathes a small sigh of relief. "Y/N? I'm coming in." He pushes the bedroom door open to see you cuddling his pillow while laying on your side.

His eyes widen at the sight of your body trembling from the small sobs. "Y/N?" He walks around the bed to kneel in front of you. "What happened?"

"N-Nothing Toji. Sorry, I-I know the house is a w-wreck." "Shut up about the damn house. I don't care. Why are you crying?"

You finally sit up, which lets him sit beside you on the bed. "I just.. Bad day." "Who do I need to stab?" "T-Toji?! You can't solve everything by stabbing!" He shrugs a bit. "You can try."

He smiles sweetly when you slap his arm. "That isn't funny." "Hmmm, but it made your cheeks flush." "Toji Fushiguro!" "Alright, alright. You wanna tell me what's wrong now?"

"I just.. looked in a mirror for too long, babe. Don't worry about-" "I'm lost. What do you mean you looked in one for too long?" You sigh, knowing he hates vague answers.

"My body is disgusting me today, Toji." He scrunches his eyebrows and leans in a bit closer to you. Your face heats up from the slight glare in his eyes.

"Looks the same to me." "Toji, I-" "Correct yourself." His already deep voice seems to drop even lower. Your entire body trembles. "S-Sir."

"Good girl. Now, let me get this straight. You don't think you're attractive." You shake your head, suddenly feeling the tears come back to your eyes. "Why not?" "J-Just.. my body.. it isn't.." "Skinny?" The word hurts your heart, but you nod, knowing he expects some sort of answer.

"So? You're exactly what I need, Y/N." You glance up to meet his loving gaze. "N-need?" "Don't play dumb. You know I need you. Now, we have to fix those insecurities."

He stands, offering his hand out to you. When you take it, he pulls you to your feet.

"Now," he groans as he lays back down on the bed, "I've had a tiring day at work. I want you to strip and come take a seat." "A-a seat?" His smirk tells you what you need to know before he elaborates. "I AM rather starved. Come on, I'm pretty impatient."

"To-Sir, I'm too.." "Heavy? Try again. You aren't getting out of this." He snaps his fingers, and the sound runs deep into your core. His eyes watch you hungrily as you start to get out of your pants.

"Now, for every one of your orgasms, I want to hear 'I'm Toji's pretty princess.' Understand?" "Y-yes sir."

You have no idea what posses you, but you finally let out you own witty comment. "You could at least take me to dinner first."

"You cheeky brat, don't worry. I have plans for your meal."

Hope you don't mind being hoarse for a while. You had to repeat just how pretty you were a number of times.

Choso Kamo

- SWEETEST MOTHER FUCKER I SWEAR

- He doesn't see a single flaw in you, honestly.

- Plus, he doesn't really understand beauty standards. All he knows is he loves every inch of you.

- Nothing goes unloved by this big ass baby.

- You crying would probably bring him to tears because he feeds off your emotion.

- But there is no doubt this man will do anything and everything to see your smile again.

- A true king who just wants his queen as happy as she makes him.

He left you for maybe an hour. Maybe. Choso just had to run and pick up a movie from Yuji.

"Angel, Yuji said that we have to-" He drops the movie the instant he sees tears in your eyes. "L-love? What happened?"

He rushes to your side and wastes no time wrapping you in his strong embrace. Your hands grip his shirt in a feeble attempt to pull him closer.

"What happened? Do you need something? A doctor?" His eyes are scanning your body for any signs of pain. His hands running gently over your back, arm, sides, but everything seems normal.

"I-I'm okay, Cho." "No, you aren't. Please, angel, don't lie to me." His own eyes start to fill with tears, but he tries to will them away. He knows he shouldn't be crying, but seeing you in any pain hurts him just as much.

"Cho, I just.. It's stupid." His large hands cup your face so you're forced to meet his eyes. "Nothing that makes you cry is stupid. Absolutely nothing, my love."

"I.. I tried to put on a hoodie of yours because I was cold." He blinks in confusion. "Was.. was it dirty?" "No I.. I stretched it out.." he tilts his head.

"Is that all?" You nod, but even more tears come to your eyes. "I just hate how big I am.. I thought you would find it cute to come home and see me in your clothes but.. I just messed them up.." He stands, suddenly walking into the kitchen. "C-Cho?"

"I bought some of your favorite ice cream. You know, the kind you always crave on your period. I figure we can cuddle and you can enjoy it while we watch a movie."

"I- I don't really want anything to eat." He smiles, still grabbing it and a spoon. "I know, but just in case. Listen," he places the carton on the table next to you, "you're gorgeous. Every part of you just screams beauty. Nothing could ever change that. Not your size, not you stretching out a stupid hoodie, not you crying, nothing."

He opens the carton, only to get a spoonful out and kneel in front of you. "Open up, angel." You do as he says and allow him to feed you the ice cream. You can't help but smile as you eat it.

His index finger wipes a few old tears from your cheeks. "There's that smile I love. Now, I think we need a movie and some cuddles. How does that sound?" You can only nod, absolutely floored by how much Choso truly loves you.

No more negative thoughts came to your mind while you laid against his chest. He even took a few times to feed you more ice cream throughout the movie.

Oh yeah, he totally bought new hoodies in a bigger size so you could wear them around the house without fear of stretching them.

Kento Nanami

- KING ENERGY

- You can't tell me this man doesn't want someone who acts as his pillow. Come on.

- That being said, Nanami knows how it is to be insecure.

- Whether it's over body insecurity or not, that can be argued either way. Still, insecurities aren't something he's ignorant about.

- On days where you can't seem to like your body, he'll do whatever you need.

- Need to be alone? No problem. Need someone to talk to you? Covered. Just need to be told you're loved? He'll tell you as many times as it takes.

- However, he can't help but be blunt. That's just who he is.

- He does it out of love for you, though. He never wants you to believe something that isn't true.

It's really hard for you and Nanami to get the same day off of work, and today was no different. Since you were the one working today, Nanami decided to take up cleaning the house and preparing dinner. He would also insist on doing the dishes, but he knew better. You never allow him to do all of the work.

He watched the clock hit five thirty and smiled. No doubt, that was your car he heard pull into the driveway. Now that you were home, he could surprise you by telling you that he managed to get the next five days off, which matched your schedule.

The front door opens, and he's quick to call out a "Welcome home, dear. Dinner will be done soon." He turns his body, preparing to catch you in his embrace as usual. However, all that happens is you call back, "Thanks, Ken."

His eyebrows furrow, and he quickly takes dinner off the stove so he can go check on you. He's not one to forget anniversaries or anything like that, so his mind is going through any possible reason you just called him Ken.

"Bad day at work, dear?" He wipes his hand on his apron as he comes around the corner. You were already sitting on the couch, eyes on your phone. "Yeah, I guess." "Okay," he sighs and sits beside you, "would you like to talk about it?" When you finally look at him, his eyes widen. Your eyes are puffy, as if you had been crying.

"Y/N.." "It's just coworker drama, Ken, don't worry too much about it." He scrunches his face. Those women you work with always pissed him off. He's noticed them staring at him whenever he brings you lunch. "Well, humor me a bit. What happened today?"

He just knows you can't resist gossiping with him after a work day. "I-I don't want to repeat it, Ken." The worried look in his eyes makes you whimper. "What?"

"I'm not used to you calling me 'Ken' at home." "Sorry, honey. It's nothing you did." He smiles softly and reaches to cup one of your cheeks in his hand. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me?" You do. God, you do because you know you'll cry again and he'll be here to hold you through it.

"They started talking about you." "Me?" "Yeah," you look at your hands, already feeling your chest tighten, "and started laughing at how you're.. settling for someone who is as big as I am.."

Nanami's soft looks suddenly turns harsh. How dare they say stuff like that? What's worse is he's sure they knew you could hear them!

"Really?" When you nod, a tear falls onto your lap. "It just.. really hurt knowing that I'm not the only one who thinks that." "Y/N.." He pulls you into a hug with a soft sigh.

"Don't think like that. Dear, if I wanted anything different than what I have now, you would know it." You sigh and cuddle into his warm embrace. "I know, but-" "But nothing, my love. I love you, only you, forever you. Do you understand?" You glance up and he places a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Yeah.. I love you too, Kento." "I have an idea." "Uh huh?" His smirk has you worried. "Well, we both have the next five days off.." "We do?!"

The excitement in your voice has him chuckling. "There's my pretty laugh. Yes, we do. I'm thinking on your first day back.. you go in with a ring on your finger."

You blink in confusion. "K-Kento, you don't-" "Oh I do. Am I the person to joke about wanting to marry you?" Your eyes start to fill, yet again, with tears. However, these tears make Nanami also tear up a bit.

"Are you... asking..?" "I have a ring just for you in my suit jacket, Y/N. Just say you'll marry me." He isn't really expecting you to jump on him, so when you do, he falls from the couch to the floor. "You know I'll marry you, Ken!"

The two of you share a long kiss, complete with tears and laughter. "Well, now that that's decided. I think we should get a head start on something." "What would that be?"

He stands before securing you in his arms bridal style. "The Prehoneymoon." "That isn't a thing, honey." He smirks before playfully smacking your ass. "For you, Mrs. Nanami, anything is possible."

@katgalle @savonline

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | Chapter Four

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, discussion of previous sexual relationships with older men (big age gaps), kink talks, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), fingering, 69ing... its really dirty i hope i got it all

word count: 3.8k

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and Saturdays

Chapter Four | Masterlist

Waking up beside Spencer is an absolute blessing, he is the most tender and loving man in the whole world and she’s never going to get enough of him. He snuggles so tight, he holds her just right and he’s just big enough that she fits against him like she’s always supposed to have been there.

Her alarm goes off at 10:30 and he doesn’t even budge, she struggles to get out of his grasp to turn it off before he just pulls her right back in.

“I could get used to this,” she coo’s as she relaxes back into his embrace.

He kisses the back of her neck and one of his hands cups her breast. He runs his nose along her skin as he takes it all in, “I can come back every night.”

“Okay,” she smiles at the thought. “Are you coming with me to Brookfield today?”

He hums, “I have something to pick up first but I’ll be back to pick you up.”

“Do you want to meet Craig?” She asks nervously, knowing he knows.

“I’m not sure,” he’s honest. “It’s weird thinking he’s slept with you and he has a thing for my mother.”

“As weird as it was, I don’t regret it, he was really lonely after Patsy died and hadn’t slept with anyone in years,” she explains it again to him, it’s easier than the first time.

“I’m not judging you,” he whispers before kissing her again.

“I know,” she rolls over while still in his grip, pressing her chest against his and kissing him quickly before remembering her own rule, “pretend it’s still dark out.”

He laughs, “was he at least good to you?”

“Are you really asking me if the old man I fucked was good in bed?” She rolls her eyes with a laugh, “it was fine, I was used to just laying there and taking it back then.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes for her past experiences knowing he can change them and that she's content with them, “can I make it up to you?”

“It's not my birthday,” she teases him once more.

“Then why are you in your birthday suit?” He kisses her neck as her back arches, giving him the access to do whatever he pleased.

This was her favourite part of sleeping with him, he was handsy and he kissed everywhere. He was so tentative, he was gentile and sensual and she loved him. The way he kissed her body, his hands on her back as she arched, grinding against him as his leg slipped between hers.

“Daddy?” She’s already breathless as she anticipates whatever he’s going to do to her.

He hums, “what baby?”

“Can we try something?” She looks at him with puppy dog eyes, wanting more of him and knowing exactly how to get it.

“What?” He looks from her eyes to her lips and back.

She smirks, “lay back?”

He does as she asks and she makes a quick move to straddle him, reverse cowgirl, and it makes him gasp. He hooks his arms under her legs and pulls her hips towards his face as she grips his cock at the base.

She’s never done this before, excited to finally experience her two favourite things at once, with her favourite person. Taking him in one go down her throat as far as she can, he moans against her thigh as he works his way towards her dripping core.

He pulls her in closer, burying his tongue inside of her as she swirls her tongue around the head of his cock, stroking what doesn’t fit in her mouth. She moans around him as he sucks her clit into his mouth. When he slides a finger into her, she gasps as she runs her tongue along the shaft, “more please, daddy?”

He adds a second finger and curls it with each thrust, she strokes him in time with his fingers rubbing her tongue on the slit, pushing him closer and closer and closer until he’s moaning into her cunt as he finger fucks her relentlessly.

She cums on his face with a quake, her whole body shaking as she sucks one of his balls into her mouth and keeps jerking him. He cums over her hand then, finally releasing her clit from his mouth, they both sigh as they come down from their highs.

She rolls off him, feet on her pillow and hand cupping her own breast as she tries to catch her breath, “yeah, I can get used to waking up next to you.”

—

“Bullshit!”

Y/N reaches for the apparent 3 4’s that Craig dropped in the pile, filling them to see he was indeed truthful and handing them to Diana. “You’re slacking today.”

“I do so much better when I don’t know who he is,” Diana smirks as she takes the cards.

“Speaking of,” she smiles to herself as she looks through her own cards, “your son, Spencer, is coming to see you today.”

“How do you know that?”

“I might be dating Spencer,” she scrunches her face in anticipation of her reaction.

“Really?”

She nods, a smile building on her face as she starts to feel a bit flustered, “yeah, I met him last year and we’ve been friends for a while but it’s getting serious, so I thought I’d tell you.”

She’s quiet as she thinks about it and Y/N’s anxiety goes to full blast, “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Diana asks.

“For not telling you and pretending I don’t know him,” she's quick with her response. “He knows we know each other from your notes but we didn’t talk about it until last night, I feel so bad keeping that from you but I've known him the whole time.”

“I was going to introduce you to each other in the hopes you would take care of him, you’re wonderful and he needs someone who he doesn’t have to look after. I’ve thought you would be good for him for quite a while actually,” Diana compliments her with a smile. “Try calling bullshit on that.”

It makes her laugh, leaning over into Diana’s space as she wrapped her arms around Y/N, “well as good as I am to him, he’s even better to me.”

Holding Diana was nice, she missed her moms so much that it was a good substitute until she saw her own again.

“How did you meet?”

Y/N pulls back with a stutter, “uh, well we met online actually and he took me to dinner and we got to talking and we’ve been really good friends for a while, he uh, he’s the reason I’m getting my book published.”

“Really?” She blinks a few times the way Spencer does when he tries to absorb information.

She wasn’t dumb, she knew her son had money and he was a lot older than her and that meeting on the internet isn’t as innocent as it sounds.

“He’s my best friend.”

She smiles again, “that’s the key to a successful relationship.”

Craig was quiet the whole time, staring at his cards and drinking his water while they talked. “For what it’s worth,” he adds, “I think he’s lucky to have you, you’re a good woman.”

Y/N’s so busy looking at Craig with a smile that she doesn’t notice Spencer walk-in or the way Diana gleams at him. He walks up behind her and rests his chin on her shoulder, “Hey, pretty woman.”

She jumps slightly before laughing, he wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek quickly, “hey mom,” he makes his way from Y/N to Diana.

Hugging her quickly before coming to sit beside Y/N again, he notices Craig too and waves, “nice to meet you as well, sir.”

She analyzes his face as he looks at Craig, worried that he’s going to go full alpha male and start a fight or something crazy like her old boyfriends would. But he smiles and he’s calm, he holds her hand and they play another few rounds of cards and it's like they’ve all been friends for years.

Visiting hours are about to come to an end when Spencer finally brings it up, “how would you feel if I moved to LA for a little while?”

She’s really confused, “are you getting a transfer at work?”

“No, Y/N has a job offer and I’d like to go with her,” he’s honest with his mom, it’s easier than with anyone else. “I’ll travel here whenever you need me, and once a week just to say hello.”

“Or I can finally go back to Vegas,” she says it like she’s been thinking about it for a while. “I miss my friends and my sister, Spencer.”

“And I’m thinking about moving there as well so my pneumonia isn’t as bad this winter,” Craig adds, sitting closer to Diana than before and taking her hand.

Spencer looks very uncomfortable and Y/N can feel it radiating off him, “my moms are also in Vegas, it would be nice for all of you to be close.”

“I think that would be nice,” Spencer agrees, “and then we can just take a short trip to Vegas once a week to visit with you.”

“That would be lovely,” Diana smiles, “even on my bad days I don’t forget who Craig is to me, I know he’s my best friend in here and I’m really glad you’re comfortable with this.”

Spencer smiles, it’s awkward for him to know everything that he knows, and by the way Craig looks at him, he knows Spencer knows.

“Please, just take care of her,” is all Spencer has to say to him. “I’ve already been to prison once.”

“Spencer,” Diana scolds him while trying not to laugh at the absurdity.

“I’m kidding,” he smiles, “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

“It’s only taken us 30 years,” she reaches out a hand for Spencers, “but we did it.”

It’s a beautiful moment that Y/N gets to witness, she holds a hand to her heart as Spencer wraps his arms around his mom. She was doing amazing, she was happy and even happier that Spencer was happy.

“We did it,” Spencer agrees, holding her close, always a mama’s boy at heart.

—

They stop at his apartment on the way home, he needed some things for the next 2 days and his suitcase for this weekend. His apartment was always so dark and cold, the green was beautiful but it was far too sad. It didn’t feel like Spencer, it didn’t have his energy or personality, it was just a few walls and a bunch of books.

She sits on his couch and touches her necklace, remembering when he gave it to her and how she thanked him. He was rummaging around in his room without her, leaving her with time to just think about sucking him off on this couch, being between his legs, the feeling of him in her mouth, knowing she already had him this morning but she still wants him again.

She gets up from her seat and walks into his bedroom, pushing him up against the wall, he’s a little startled but he smirks, “what?”

“Is there a word for ravenous for dick?” She teases.

“Horny,” he responds with a giggle, “ovulating? Frustrated, deprived, desperate... slut.”

“I like the last 2 together.”

“What else do you like?” He whispers as she leans in to brush their noses together, “we’ve never discussed your needs, you’ve always just asked about mine, but this isn’t all about me.”

“It was when you were paying me,” she rationalizes, “I’m pretty basic, I’ll try anything once.”

“But what do you like the most?”

“You,” she’s honest. “How big you are for one, the fact you can just throw me around like a rag doll if you wanted… I like your hands, and your mouth and I like how you talk, I like how sweet you are, I like how we could do the dirtiest fucking things in the whole world with each other. I like that we could do the roughest, kinkiest and most intense scenes and yet I’m completely safe with you.”

He swallows and his Adam's apple bobs right in her view, she can’t help herself from kissing his neck, licking along the pulse point before sucking a deep purple mark into his skin, “what do you like besides me?”

“Praise,” she whispers.

“Good girl.”

“Mild degradation,” she kisses his neck again and starts to unbutton his shirt. “Spanking, raw missionary and messy kisses,” every new thing comes with a kiss as her hands reach down to palm him through his slacks, “pleasing my partner, knowing you get off to me, watching, being watched, belonging to you.”

He takes her chin in his hands and makes her look up at him, “in what sense?”

“Mark me, claim me, breed me,” she whispers and his eyes darken, she swears there is a growl that leaves his throat.

“I want everyone to know I’m yours, show everyone who I belong to, let everyone know only you can please me and show them that no one is better for me than my daddy.”

“You’re evil saying all this knowing I'm not going to fuck you yet,” his voice has never been this low, his eyes are black and the grip he has on her is so tight it makes her gasp.

“You asked,” she smirks, “and if you expect me to be an obedient little submissive, you’re very wrong. "

He gulps and the mood changes very quickly.

"I’m a brat and I’m a switch, and I have more control here than you do.” She tightens her grip around his cock and he whimpers, “that’s what I thought.”

She undoes his button and takes him out, licking her palm while making eye contact with him, she then wraps her hand around him and pumps up and down his shaft. Gathering his precum that’s collected from simply listening to her, his hand on her chin had made its way into her hair and his other grips her hip tighter than ever before.

“I want to fuck all day long,” she whispers, leaning in more and brushing her bottom lip against his, “I want you to come and find me when you’re bored and just bend me over and take me, I want to just sit on your lap while to read and ride you, I want to fall asleep with you deep inside me and wake up full of your cum.”

He tosses his head back against the wall, groaning as she slows her movements. She drags her hand up, squeezing at the head as he thrusts back into her hand, all she can think about is how good it’s going to be when he’s pushing inside of her, not just in her fist.

“Does it feel good, daddy?” She teases him again, “are you thinking about my tight little pussy? Hmm?”

“Gonna cum,” he whispers.

“I don’t think that's how you ask.”

His hips sputter as he fucks her hand, “please, mommy?”

It’s so unexpectedly hot she clenches around nothing, aching for him with how horny she is, she drops to the floor, wrapping her mouth around the head, he cums within seconds. She pumps every last drop onto her tongue before standing and connecting their mouths once more, swapping his cum back into his own mouth, but he doesn’t swallow.

He simply picks her up and tosses her onto the bed, pulling her jeans and panties down and off one leg to expose her dripping pussy. He lifts her hips and spreads her open, running a finger over her clit before spitting his own cum into her.

It’s such a sight, she gasps at the feeling. It’s so hot and wet and then he’s pushing it in with two fingers and fucking them into her. Rubbing her clit at the same time, she cums by surprise, it’s so intense all she can do is grip her breasts and wrap her legs around him for support. She trembles, moaning and whining as he keeps going, curling his fingers just right to rub her g-spot and keep the sensation roaring as long as she lets him.

She lives in the feeling as long as possible before it starts to get to be too much, “okay,” she’s breathless and exhausted, lying there with her eyes closed when he pulls his fingers out of her, falling asleep from how relaxed her whole body is.

—

Spencer was in her bathroom brushing his teeth for the night while she slipped into her PJs.

She felt giddy, like a kid on Christmas Eve, thinking about how exciting tomorrow would be that the prospect of sleeping seemed almost impossible. She couldn’t wait to hold him and snuggle him and feel the way he kisses her shoulder when he rolls over. She loves him so much that sleeping beside him is almost more important to her than anything else they do together.

Because when he sleeps, his guard is down. When he sleeps beside someone, it’s because he’s truly and fully safe with them. He’s told her about all the people he’s slept with, how many of them didn’t stay the night and how many he’s walked out on. She knows he’s not a fan of sleepovers from his childhood and he’s never been in a long-term relationship to even consider sharing a bed with someone before her.

In the beginning, he didn’t want to sleep beside her because he knew he’d catch feelings, she understood and so they bought a pull-out couch for her apartment. He would sleep in her living room and she would lay awake in her bed thinking about how much better it would be if she could cuddle with him until she drifted off to sleep.

She crawls into her bed and watches the bathroom door as she rubs hand lotion into her skin, hoping he actually comes back to her like he promised and doesn’t retreat to the living room. She smiles at him when the door opens and his sight goes right to her wrists as she smoothes the lotion over her skin.

“I forgot to give you your present today,” he gasps and rushes to his suit jacket in the closet.

He comes back to bed with another box, “how much jewellery are you going to buy me?”

“Two more of the gifts are jewellery,” he smiles as he opens the box for her.

It’s a silver bracelet with diamonds and Rubys in a heart shape, like the necklace in pretty woman turned into a bracelet. It’s so pretty she doesn’t know how to react, “you’re crazy, you know that?”

He nods with a smile, “crazy for you.”

“Don’t,” she raises her brows with her pointer finger raised, shushing him. “You know what being all lovey-dovey does to me, and I'm tired.”

It makes him laugh, “I’m just going to leave this on the dresser.”

She takes it from him and stops him from getting up, “no, I’ll just leave it on here, just get into bed, please?” She moves it to her night table and pulls the sheets back so he can get into bed with her. She turns off the lamp on her night table and watches him lay back on his side of the bed.

She snuggles into his chest and places her face in the crook of his neck. Holding him as close as humanly possible, he smells like home and safety.

“I love you so much, Spencer,” she whispers it, feeling very needy and emotional and she has no idea why.

He simply kisses the top of her head while soothing his hand over her back, “I love you just as much, Y/N.”

It was rare for them to use each other's real names, so much of their time together was spent in silence but when it wasn’t, they referred to each other with a long list of different pet names. It made it less personal, it kept their real lives separate and created a world where they just existed with each other.

A world where he wasn’t Spencer Reid with 3 PH.D.s, a drug problem and a sick mother. When he was with her he was just a guy who liked to explore. He was her buddy who took her to museums and concerts, he was her daddy who held her hand when they walked to the park together to play chess, he was her sweetheart on nights when he cried and needed some love.

Tonight he’s just Spencer.

He’s everything he’s been before and nothing like his old self all at the same time. He’s constantly having a breakthrough, he’s broken through ceilings of grief and trauma, grown past the names he’s been called and adjusted to the fact this is how his life is and he's not as evil as he thinks he is.

He’s happy and content. He’s so much different now than how he was when she met him and while he likes to thank her for that, he always had the power to get here. It was a long road to recovery, he just happened upon her on the path and brought her along for the journey and now she’s never going to leave him.

“Are you crying?” He asks, bringing her back to reality to notice that yes, she is indeed crying.

She nods and sniffles, wiping her tears with his t-shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired.”

“Hey,” he pets her hair and waits for her to look up at him. “What do you say when I apologize for crying?”

“Don’t apologize, your feelings are important to feel so you can move past them,” she whispers the mantra her parents raised her on, something that really helped him.

“I'm not crying because I’m hurting,” she whispers. “I’m crying because you’re not anymore.”

“What?”

She realizes it comes out weird, “I’m proud of you, and I’m happy that I get to love you now.”

“How long have you loved me?” There’s a small sadness in his voice like he wishes he could have moved faster for her.

“Since you told me you’d help me get my book published just for going to museums with you,” she whispers, “because you saw me as talented and worthy of greatness and you wanted to help me succeed instead of wanting to pay me to suck your dick in a more legal way.”

“I was in it for a friend,” he’s said it before, “it was easier to pay someone to hang out with me than stumble across someone who would understand me this well.”

“I can’t imagine you just going to a park and striking up conversations with someone,” she laughs, “I think it was just meant to happen like this.”

He sighs, “I’d do it again.”

“What?” She’s too tired and sad to follow his train of thought.

“I’d go through all the pain and trauma again, exactly the same way if it brings me right back here. Right to you.”

She pulls back from his neck and connects her lips to his faster than ever before, kissing him deeply as she cries again.

“I love you,” she whispers against his lips between kisses, he whispers it right back.

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Sugar daddy fic

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@ne--yo-pets @valerieweasley @coldlilheart @andiebeaword @bingereid

some just wont tag no matter what I do, idk why tho

[snackhobi]

a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v. 

then he turns up at your door. 

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif​ for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within. 

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over. 

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight. 

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed.  It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on. 

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code. 

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time. 

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water. 

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine. 

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.”  The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious. 

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new. 

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed. 

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?” 

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone. 

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one. 

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they? 

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.” 

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and��” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper. 

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go. 

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked. 

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs. 

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least). 

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for. 

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good. 

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone. 

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend. 

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way. 

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God. 

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence. 

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things. 

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.” 

Ah. 

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.” 

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new. 

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased. 

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs. 

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples. 

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice. 

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off. 

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs. 

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?” 

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight. 

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality. 

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own. 

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[captains-simp]

(Not me accidentally posting this when it was half done)

I knew I could count on you @wndrcarol for a jock!Carol request🥳 also....👀I heard you like Sharon

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

1.9k words

Warnings: harassment, degrading, face slapping, strap on sex, spitting, choking and hints of overstimulation

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You groaned in frustration when you finished checking the kitchen for your girlfriend. Everytime you went to a party with her the same thing happened.

You'd arrive, take a while to get comfortable and as soon as you did Carol would be whisked away by her friends leaving you to stand awkwardly in the corner. You really needed to get more friends. The ones you had never seemed to come to those parties.

You wandered outside onto the wooden decking area to get some fresh air and leant against the fence as you lazily scanned the area for Carol. You knew she wasn't out there, you had already checked.

Your eyes landed on a brunet who had been watching you carefully but the moment you locked eyes he scurried away back inside, not wanting to be seen near you. You smiled at the memory of the last time you had met at a party.

"There was only 10 seconds of the game left but I kicked the ball as hard as I could and it was on the last second of the game that it scored and we won!" Tyler exclaimed before taking another sip of his bear and gleamed at the memory.

"That's great." You said as you continued to scan the room for Carol.

"It was, you should'a been there." Tyler said as he looked back at you, or more he looked above the line of your low hanging top. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I was at Carol's game." Tyler didn't react to the mention of your girlfriend. It wasn't like he didn't know you were dating, everyone knew. Carol made sure of that.

"Unlucky, mine was a lot more interesting." He declared with a smug grin. A brief memory of Carol fucking you in the showers after that game flashed through your mind and you couldn't contain your smile at knowing how wrong the guy infront of you was.

Unfortunately, he thought that smile was at him.

"I had a pretty great game before that too. But it's getting kinda loud in here, wanna go somewhere more private?" He smirked in an extremely unattractive way.

"I'm good, I need to go find Carol." You said quickly, wanting to get the hell away from Tyler.

You hadn't seen Carol in a while. It was her idea to go to the party, it was an environment she thrived in. You, however, did not. It wasn't your scene and you didn't know anyone there, not well at least.

At some point through the mass of bodies, loud music and numerous people trying to get Carol to do shots with them or be on their beer pong team, you had been seperated from the Captain and you hadn't seen her since.

"Come on, I'm sure there's some spare rooms upstairs." There was a slight slur to his voice that made it even worse when he approached you and put a heavy hand on your waist.

"Get off me, Tyler!" You snapped and pushed his hand away but he continued with a frown.

"What? Don't you want this-" He was cut off when a fist shot out beside you and punched him across the face. Tyler staggered back, gripping his bleeding nose, as the people around you cheered loudly, oblivious to what had happened prior.

"Get your fucking hands off my girlfriend." Carol demanded as she continued to advance towards a cowarding Tyler who could only hold his hands out in defence. You pulled Carol away with to turn her towards you and Tyler scrambled to his feet to flee.

"Are you okay?" Concerned and familiar eyes met yours that instantly eased your worry. Carol brought her hands gently up to your face as she scanned you closely and you were surprised to see that she looked completely sober.

You nodded your head and breathed out a yes before you took her right hand away from your face to examine it carefully. The dull lighting in the room made it hard to make out but you could feel that there was nothing out of place.

"Come on." Carol said as she took your hand. "Let's get out of here."

Tyler had a bandage across his nose for a while. He had avoided you like the plague ever since, clearly have some sense in him.

"Want some company?" Came a voice from beside you. You glanced sideways and saw Sharon fall easily into place next to you. She mirrored your position of leaning against the barrier and gave you a knowing smile.

"Thanks." You breathed out, feeling kind of embarrassed someone had noticed Carol always seemed to ditch you at parties.

"No luck finding the girlfriend?" Sharon teased.

"Is it that obvious?" You asked but weren't sure you really wanted to know.

"You look like a lost puppy without her." Sharon chuckled making you flush. Maybe you were too clingy.

"She's the golden retriever lesbian." You corrected making Sharon laugh more.

"That seems about right." She went to move closer to you but a group of jocks spilled out onto the decking, without Carol among them.

"Fuck this." She huffed and took your hand to lead you over to the garden swing bench. Your hand felt like it was burning when she held it to pull you along. Although her hands were physically soft, they weren't the kind of softness you felt with Carol. It didn't make you feel warm inside, it made you feel uneasy. But it was a party, you had to hold onto people to move about.

Part of your brain pointed out that there was only a few people in the garden so there was really no need for Sharon to navigate you through it, while the rest of you really did just want some company.

Sharon sat down on the bench and you followed, feeling as though you could relax a bit more on the edge of the garden.

"You know, I think Carol's a very lucky gal to have you." Sharon said as she watched you closely. You laughed nervously as you noticed how close she was. You found yourself searching the garden for Carol again but Sharon lighting held your jaw and turned it back towards her.

"Pretty thing like you must surely be a lot of fun to play with." She smirked as her other hand crept onto your thigh.

"Um I d-don't-"

"Shh, you don't need to talk." Sharon cooed as she tilted your chin up more when you struggled to keep eye contact. The blonde glanced at your lips and licked her own before leaning forward slowly.

Until a strong hand wrapped itself around your bicep and yanked you from the bench.

You stumbled into a fuming blonde who was glaring at Sharon. You blushed deeply as you realised how it looked at what Sharon was most likely trying to do.

"You keep your fucking hands off of my girlfriend, Carter." Carol spat as her fists clenched.

"You really shouldn't leave her unattended?" Sharon said, amused by Carol's anger. "Who knows what could have happened." She winked at you and looked away instantly.

Carol scoffed simply as she continued to glare daggers at the woman infront of you.

"In your fucking dreams, she's mine." She all but growled as she pulled you away. You yelped as you felt her nails dig into your skin but didn't have the nerve to ask her to loosen her grip.

Carol pulled you through the crowded house and up to an empty bedroom that she shoved you inside.

"Did you enjoy that? Whoring yourself out to Sharon?" Carol asked as she threw you to the bed and started undoing her belt.

"No I-" You started as you went to sit up but Carol put a firm hand to your chest and pushed you back flat against the bed.

"Shut up, slut. I don't want to hear another sound out of you unless you're saying my name." She warned as she pulled her strap out and pulled your panties down.

You looked at her wide eyed, never seeing her so worked up before sex. Sure, you'd have a lot of needy, desperate sex and the occasional quickly, but she never showed so little regard to you before.

"What? Think I'm going to be nice to you and take my time? Want me to touch you gently? Whores don't deserve to be treated nicely. You don't get to prep my cock either." Carol taunted as she pushed the tip of the head in and kept it there as she stared down at you. "You'll have to just take it how it is, not that you'll have much of an issue. You've always got such a sloppy cunt."

"Please, Captain." You found yourself whining earning you a harsh slap to your left cheek. Your head whipped to the side and your cheek burned but Carol didn't seem to care.

"Who are you begging to fuck you?" Carol asked as she rocked her hips slowly as a reminder that you only had the very tip inside you.

"You Carol, I want my Captain's cock!" You cried out desperately.

"Only mine?" The blonde mused as she inched a bit more of the strap in.

"Yes Carol, only your cock. I only want you." You whined truthfully. Carol knew that of course, she knew you were incredibly loyal. That's what made the game so fun.

"Please! Please Carol I need you so bad. I want my Captain deep inside me, please please." You begged and felt as though you could cry in frustration.

"You really know how to plead like a whore, don't you. Did you learn that somewhere? Or are you just a natural cock slut?" She asked as she slammed her hips forward and filed you up with the strap at every angle.

You moaned loudly and threw your head back against the pillows as Carol set about her harsh and unrelenting pace. The thick strap filled you up entirely with every thrust. It didn't take long for your eyed to water from the sheer amount of pleasure she was giving to you so roughly.

Carol grunted as she pounded the strap into you and her grip on your wrists tightened, letting you know she wouldn't let go anytime soon.

"See? You've got such a sloppy pussy. And it's all mine." Carol spoke as she glanced down to look at your pussy taking her strap so well.

"You're gonna cum for me now. You're going to cum all over my cock." Carol demanded as she noticed your signs of approaching orgasm.

You cried out at the force of each of Carol's thrusts until it became too much to bear and you crashed over the edge without much to hold on to. As you did so, Carol brought her hand up and wrapped it tightly around your throat before giving it a quick squeeze.

"You belong to me, slut." Carol said as she continued thrusting mercilessly. She noted your blissed expression and open mouth and gripped your jaw tightly, much rougher than Sharon had. She pulled your face down with your mouth still open and spat. You moaned as you tasted her saliva on your tongue and around your lips. You swallowed it eagerly making Carol beam internally, not that she could let you know that.

"Cum again for me whore. I get to do what I want with you. So you're going to keep cuming until I get bored. I don't give a fuck if you get tired." She spoke next to your ear, poison dripping from her words.

"So fucking cum."