#GATHERING MY HANDFUL OF HORROR FANS

[purple-plum-petals]

Homicipher request for the Homicipher starved fans pls? 🥺 Is it okay to ask for the reactions of Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped(as he gets wheeled past us on a cart after being kidnapped, again), Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella with a reader who winks and blows a kiss as they pass by them? Like for some reason reader seems to be in a really good mood and they're skipping around with their trusty crowbar in hand then they see one of the boys then mwa~💋. I can imagine that they'd be confused at the unfamiliar gesture but I'd like to get your thoughts on it. 😂

⊱ Homicipher Characters’ Reactions to MC Winking at Them and Blowing Them a Kiss ⊰ || Multiple Character Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

Character(s): Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (MC’s Lore), Brief Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (Mr. Machete’s Part), Canon-typical Horror Elements (Mr. Gap and Mr. Scarletella's Parts), Cultural Barriers (None of Them Understand the Gesture). Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Platonic or Romantic Relationship Word Count: ~1,880 Request: “Homicipher request for the Homicipher starved fans pls? 🥺 Is it okay to ask for the reactions of Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped(as he gets wheeled past us on a cart after being kidnapped, again), Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella with a reader who winks and blows a kiss as they pass by them? Like for some reason reader seems to be in a really good mood and they're skipping around with their trusty crowbar in hand then they see one of the boys then mwa~💋. I can imagine that they'd be confused at the unfamiliar gesture but I'd like to get your thoughts on it. 😂” Author’s Note: They all would definitely be confused by the unfamiliar gesture, so I kind of did headcanons about how each of them would react to you blowing them a kiss/how they would go about trying to understand what the gesture meant by using context clues (or just straight-up asking you about it haha). Sorry if they’re not great! I’m still trying to figure out how I want to balance the characters’ personalities as they are in canon while adding some more fun/whimsical aspects of your ask.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

💉: He smiles softly at your cheerful demeanor, yet it falters slightly when you press the tips of your fingers to your lips and squeeze one of your eyes shut in response to him looking in your direction. You remove your fingers from your pursed lips and blow out a puff of air before continuing in the direction you had been walking towards. While he could infer you were in a good mood by your body language, he was curious to know what exactly the gesture meant. 

💉: Instead of lightly treading the question or observing you for any longer to see if he could figure out what the gesture meant by using context clues, Mr. Silvair instead just asks you directly to get an answer as soon as possible the next time he sees you. He deeply enjoyed research and observation, yes, but there was no need to wait to gather information when you were a perfect source of it. 

💉: Of course, it wasn’t easy to explain what “blowing a kiss” was, especially since they didn’t even have equivalent words in their language for “blow” or “kiss,” but you tried your best with what you had to work with. It’s almost funny how earnestly Mr. Silvair is hanging onto every word you speak. He chuckles after you finish explaining, amused by the gesture and its meaning – how quaint, he thinks to himself. 

💉: He found humans to be fascinating and their diverse cultures even more so, so he was of course interested in learning whatever you were able to recall from your previous life in your old realm before you ended up in this one. He treats everything you tell him with an air of respect, and he even documents what you share with him so he (and you) never forget that part of yourself. 

💉: Mr. Silvair finds the gesture to be an entertaining one, but deducts that it’s not usually one humans do with strangers or those they are not comfortable with from your explanation. Does that mean you are comfortable enough around him to express yourself in that manner? How fascinating... Do you care to tell him why you feel the way you do toward him? He’s very much interested in learning the reasoning behind your thought processes. 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped smiles so widely when he sees you in such a chipper mood, making your way down the hall with a noticeable spring in your step. He likes seeing you happy, so it makes him feel good, too, watching you skip by with such a bright expression on your face! Then, you press your hand to your lips and wink, blowing something he couldn’t see in his direction, and suddenly he’s confused. 

🗣️: Huh… well, that was strange. For some reason, though, the playful gesture seemed almost familiar, yet he couldn’t remember why. He can’t exactly chase after you and ask what that meant, so he’d have to wait until the next time he saw you (which he hoped wouldn't be a long wait – he liked spending time with you). 

🗣️: The next time he saw you, he asked if you could explain what the gesture meant. You did the best you could, but you’re pretty sure he comprehended what you were telling him if the giddy expression on his face was anything to go by. His excitement was quite adorable. However, his expression suddenly falls, and you watch him begin to sulk. How was he supposed to blow you a kiss in return? He didn’t have a body!! The poor man is so distraught. 

🗣️: He gets either Mr. Silvair to help him out or Mr. Hand to, well… give him a hand to enact his plan. The next time you see him, he calls out to you with such a delighted look on his face. So, you make your way over to him and kneel down to his level, watching as the sentient hand comes up to Mr. Chopped’s lips, making the same gesture you did, before he blows you a kiss and winks. He did it! He blew you a kiss!! 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped is very proud of himself and the pleased expression on his face is far too charming for you. He feels a warmth in his metaphorical chest knowing that you felt comfortable enough with him to blow him a kiss, especially since it seems like something humans do with those they are most comfortable with. 

🕳️: He’s honestly somewhat impressed you knew he was there, observing you through the small hole in the wall while you walk around like you’re on top of the world. He can’t help but wonder what happened that has you so chipper, but his thoughts are derailed a bit when you press your hand to your mouth and blow something at him, closing one of your eyes as you do so… What the hell was that?? 

🕳️: He feels somewhat offended, honestly, and gets that semi-disgusted look on his face before disappearing into the darkness. Mr. Gap understands it’s some kind of weird human gesture, but he can’t really put two-and-two together about what it means. Though, he finds himself continuing to watch you from any nook-and-cranny he could find, observing you to see if you would do the gesture again – you don’t.

🕳️: Mr. Gap ends up startling you while you’re walking down a long, grimy hallway, his hand darting out from a vent to grab your ankle. His grip isn’t tight, but it most certainly scares the life out of you and effectively catches your attention. He finds your scare amusing but ends up cutting straight to the point and asks you why you blew something at him. 

🕳️: Even after explaining what the gesture meant, Mr. Gap still doesn’t fully understand why you did it, so you just tell him it was supposed to be a nice gesture that showed you enjoyed him – playful. That is something he does understand, and it’s almost amusing how the smirk on his face grew. He must be special, he thinks, and his smugness is radiating from his face peeking out of the darkness. 

🕳️: Mr. Gap doesn’t do the gesture back, but he strangely enough finds himself hoping you don’t blow anyone else your kisses. He doesn’t know why the thought of you sharing the gesture with another annoys him a little bit – after all, it wouldn’t make it special anymore if you did it with everyone. He even begins bringing you things, like more crowbars or even pieces of candy he finds lying around. It’s almost like he’s trying to bribe you…

🔪: He sees you happily skipping around and finds himself having to do a double-take at the strange sight. It wasn’t a bad sight, not at all, it was just weird seeing you so bright and lively. However, his mind buffers a bit when you look at him, pursing your lips and giving him a wink before your fingertips press to your mouth and then flick towards him. 

🔪: Mr. Machete is immediately annoyed, not knowing what the gesture meant, and he assumes you were trying to pick a fight with him. So, he takes his large sword and reels it back, throwing it at you with a strength that still had your eyes boggling. You duck with a yelp as the sword implants itself into the wall behind you. 

🔪: He makes his way over to you with incredible speed, blocking your body between his and the wall as he looks down at you, his head tilted to the side as he asks you if you wanted to fight him. Mr. Machete finds your frustrated expression endearing as you tell him the gesture was meant to be playful and fun. He’s low-key kind of disappointed you didn’t want to fight, but he steps away from you after your explanation without another word. 

🔪: However, while looking down at your angry expression, Mr. Machete suddenly has the urge to squeeze you (I imagine he experiences cuteness aggression regarding you). So, he reaches down and squeezes your cheeks between his large and calloused hand, causing your lips to purse. Even though you hadn’t been in the mood to fight him, now you were. He smirks widely as you two begin to spar all because he misconstrued what your gesture meant. 

🔪: Mr. Machete doesn’t see the point of blowing kisses, and he doesn’t feel any particular way about the gesture. It’s kind of whatever for him, even though he does notice that you don’t seem to do it with anyone else. After the first time (that ended up leading to a spar), though, he notices you hadn’t blown him another kiss since… He ends up coming up to tell you in his gruff, almost rude way, that he wouldn’t mind if you did it again. 

🩸: He tilts his head to the side at the gesture, his shaggy red hair swaying with the movement. Well… that was new, he thinks. He liked you quite a bit (far more than just a bit, really… my man is kind of obsessed with you), and he had been following you throughout your entire journey in this realm, yet he had never once seen that expression or gesture from you before. Now, he was curious to know what it meant, and he was going to try and figure it out one way or another.  

🩸: He continues to keep his eye on you, following you as you go about your day. Mr. Scarletella likes seeing you so chipper and full of life, especially considering you were someone who tended to take life from others. The dichotomy between your behavior and actions had his heart racing. However, despite what he expected, you never did the gesture again. So, he couldn’t gather information by observing you – he would need to simply ask you directly, then. 

🩸: Mr. Scarletella effectively manages to corner you after some time, catching you completely off-guard. While you two had certainly started off on the wrong foot, you had gotten to the point where you were relatively calm and comfortable around the strange man who was so incredibly down bad for you. He gazes down at you with his lifeless eyes, inquiring about the gesture you made earlier. 

🩸: You explain to him what the gesture meant for you, that you were simply in a good mood and felt a little bit playful at the moment when you blew him a kiss. Mr. Scarletella smiles at your words, feeling very pleased with the information. So, it meant you liked him, correct? It meant you felt comfortable enough to express your happiness towards him in such a way, right?

🩸: Well, you inadvertently ended up making him even more obsessed with you, and now his feelings become even stronger every time you blow him a kiss. Mr. Scarletella finds the act an interesting way to express your interest and enjoyment of another being, so he begins to blow you his own kisses in return. He is one of the characters I feel would want to learn more about human customs to deepen his relationship with you even if he doesn’t fully grasp why some gestures mean certain things. 

[georgiapeach30513]

When I'm With You

Summary: Poor little rich girl. Your dad may have been the richest man in Massachusetts, and own the Boston Bruins, but you were utterly alone. Everyone only wanted you for your money the perks you brought them. All but Ari. Who also happened to be your dad’s best friend and the Bruins top player. You sure knew how to make him sweat. And now he wanted to break his one and only rule; never to touch you.

Pairings: Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, soft!Ari, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.1K

Moodboard Event

Ari Levinson Masterlist

Ice sprays up against the protective barrier and you’re able to slink down just a few extra inches before he notices that you’ve shifted. Keeping your eyes closed because you’re not in the mood to talk to one of the players. You are supposed to be observing, but this is just so boring! Maybe if you actually had friends that gave a damn for you and not your dad’s wealth you wouldn’t be here.

“What’s that?” The fool says, pointing his finger towards you. Don’t move, and don’t engage in the tomfoolery.

“That is this thing we call a woman,” Pigs. The second voice chuckles, while random bits of what you’re assuming are the sticks clapping together sound in front of you. They are gathering to gawk at you. Please just leave you to rot in peace.

“Back to practice,” yes, listen to that voice. Follow along like the good little soldiers you are.

“I thought this was a closed practice,” shit. Other voices join in, agreeing with the man. Have they ever seen a woman before? Legitimately seen a woman in the flesh that wasn’t pawning all over them.

“And she doesn’t look like someone who is stealing plays.”

“Still a closed practice, Lev.” “Yeah!” “Ask her who she is!” “Get her out of here!”

Fuck them. You were told to be here. “That won’t be necessary,” that took your father long enough. You don’t have to have your eyes open to know that he is looking at you, knowing you’re not actually asleep. All the players hoop and holler at your father. Trying to act all cool now that their team owner is on the ice.

“Sleeping beauty over there is my daughter,” oohs sound in front of you, and you know your lip is curled in annoyance. Embarrassing. “She’s going to be watching you, while I’m away.”

“Daddy D we don’t need a babysitter,” jeering. No, they need a kick in the groin. They act like dogs chasing a bitch in heat.

“Yeah, you do, Jensen,” they’re children. And your father wants you to just watch and observe. “Obviously the coach will keep you boys in line,” men. They’re men. “But I also expect you to listen to Ari and my daughter.”

“Your daughter have a name?”

“You can call her boss,” you didn’t mind that. He’s looking at you again, so you let a smile lift your mouth. “Best behavior. And boys,” men. “Keep your hands off,” oh good grief. He knows you don’t go chasing a puck for pleasure. “I mean it,” he hits someone’s shoulder, and there’s a soft pause, “Lev, watch her.”

Oh, no. You don’t need a babysitter. His back is to you, and he’s already walking out of the rink when you bust your eyes open, and stare right back at this Ari. Of all the fucking people to say that to, it had to be the one that you even somewhat thought was attractive. Your little brother had a poster on his wall of the giant that is Ari, The Punisher, Levinson.

Fucking hell. Ari skates the little bit of a distance to the barrier, and bangs his hands up against the fiberglass. “Seems like you’ve been trusted in my care, Boss.”

“Get back to practice,” is all you say before reaching in your bag, and pulling out a book. You don’t know if this is the right intimidation tactic you can think of, but Ari’s eyes flick down to the title. His mouth turns up into a devilish smirk before you look over the pages glaring, “Is there a problem, Levinson?”

“Didn’t realize that you were such a horror fan,” horror? You look at the cover of the book, and he chuckles. What were you thinking choosing The Score as a way to intimidate them? It has a cute cover, and a hockey romance. And was far from horror. “Made ya look, Boss. Alright, boys,” men. “Get back on the ice. And hands off. See you afterwards, Bunny.”

“I’m not a damn, puck bunny!”

He smiles skating backwards. His eye contact is both concerning and hot. You shouldn’t look at him either. Players are forbidden, and nothing but trouble. Especially that one. The player. The team captain. The one with the best ass on the team.

——

“She got nothing better to do?” You’d come to know the players better. That one is always talking like you can’t hear a damn thing. No, you don’t have to be here, but where else is there to go? What could be more important than keeping your father’s dream and legacy as a well oiled machine?

“It’s a bit weird that she’s at every practice, and she’s rarely watching,” a few of the players grunt in agreement. It’s your cue to fake sleeping. Again. “Her head is in one of those books, or she’s doing that. Who comes to practice to sleep?”

“Does it bother you that much, Jensen?”

“Well, no,” he sheepishly responds, backing away from Ari. “It’s weird, and unsettling.”

“She’s got a job.”

“Even the big man doesn’t show up as much as she does,” you didn’t have to listen to this. You had other things to do besides be here. You could — well you could just easily — there is always spending daddy’s money. But that’s not you.

You could always sit at a coffee shop alone, but you weren’t fond of coffee shop coffee. You could easily go watch a movie by yourself. Peeking through your lashes you glare up at Ari who is standing mask to mask with Jake Jensen.

Placing the bookmark in your book, you just get up, and walk up the stairs. You weren’t going to be the reason that the Neanderthals were fighting. There really isn’t anywhere else for you to go, but you’ll find some place.

“See you what you did,” Ari shoves Jake’s arm, while the younger man looks up at you. “From now on, don’t worry about it, okay? She’s a nobody, and she’s not here watching you scabs, got it?” Ari looks back to Jake, and the other man nods a head before Ari looks up at your retreating form.

—

Ari pushes your legs off a control panel, causing you to jump up, and get into a defense pose. Your confused look turns into anger very quickly, and you glare at him. “That’s an expensive piece of equipment. Keep your feet off it. Or do you think you can do that because Daddy can pay for it?”

“Fuck off.”

Ari taps on the panel for a few seconds. His vision goes from you to the ice, and then back again, “Why didn’t you just leave?”

“And miss an opportunity to fall asleep to the best lullaby in the world?”

“You’re not sleeping in the stands,” no, you weren’t. You’re trying to remain as invisible as possible. “You could have called some of your friends, and went to the mall or something.”

“I’m not seventeen,” of course he would think all you’re capable of doing is shopping. It’s what everyone thought. You were to be seen and spoiled, not heard.

“Then you could have gone to a bookstore. What are you reading today?” You lift up the book, and Ari tilts his head to read the title. “What’s it about?”

“An Irish Rugby player.”

“So no more hockey players?”

You shake your head no, and reach to put your book in the bag, “I like to escape when I read.”

“What else is in the book?” You furrow your eyebrows, unsure of what he’s meaning. “I mean is there — my sister reads a lot, too. The most popular books have, um…”

“Sex?”

“Yep. That — that’s what’s in there,” his cheeks flush the cutest pink color. Talking about smut in books clearly is out of his comfort zone. And you’re not entirely sure why he wants to talk to you about books at all.

“Why are you concerned if I’m reading a smutty book?” Ari shrugs his shoulders, trying to remember the title of the book. He didn’t want to read it, he just wanted to know what it was about. “Why are you concerned about why I’m up here?”

“Practice is over. Figured you needed to wake up,” he’s very strange and different when he’s not being the captain. “Why do you come to practice?”

“You told Jensen yourself, I have a job.”

“Yeah, but your job doesn’t really entail being here every practice. If I didn’t know any better I would think that you’re checking us out,” you roll your eyes, starting to stand. You can go home and sleep. At least there’s no one there to bother you. “Especially me.”

“You’re very full of yourself, Levinson,” you say as you stand up. You almost thought he was going to be different. But they’re all the same. They think they know everything about you. About how easy life must be because you grew up rich. It was isolating.

“Or is it because you have no friends, and nowhere else to go, so at least you’re not alone when you’re here.”

“Goodnight, Ari,” he didn’t know anything about you or about your life.

“Someone that seeks out human interaction so much, and yet she’s a bit rough around the edges. People using you for your family’s money made you jaded, but not everyone is out for that. Not everyone cares about what you can buy,” he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s just saying a bunch of words. But words shouldn’t strike you so hard.

“You keep talking about things you don’t know or understand,” you keep walking, but he stays behind you.

“I know because I’m just like you. It’s why I make a good captain.”

“Goodnight!” Ari jogs up in front of you, stopping, and making you halt your exit. “What?”

“I can’t lock up myself, so I have to leave first.”

“Then go.”

“What are you doing this evening?”

“What?” That came from nowhere, and you’re intrigued.

“What are you doing this evening? Where are you going? Do you have plans?” Ari knows he should let you go. He was told to stay away. But you seem distressed, and he’s bored. Nothing has to happen, just dinner and some wine. “I’m asking because I’m actually a really good cook. I’ve got a great wine selection,and you’ll be doing me a favor.”

Plus, if you like him, your dad can’t kill him. “We can carry on with our bantering if you like. But I really don’t want to eat alone, so can you join me?”

“You don’t have some puck bunny you want to have dinner with?”

“No, but you sure like to judge and insinuate I’m just like every other hockey player. We come in all different shapes and sizes, and I don’t much care for a woman chasing my money and fame. I’m going out on a limb to say you’re not going to do that, and this is just dinner.”

You aren’t. You didn’t need to. You had enough wealth from your father, “What are you cooking?”

“Fish? Chicken? Steak? Grilled cheese? Pizza? I’ve got this great pizza stone. My mom and dad are both in the restaurant business. Mom’s a manager, and dad’s a chef. I can make anything. Depending on what you say, I may have to drive to a store. But…don’t make eat alone.”

“You have to keep your hands off me,” Ari smirks. His eyes trail over your body in a not too unpleasant way. You kind of like it. You wish he would look again.

“Of course. I made a promise to your dad.”

“And this doesn’t change my watching practices.”

“I wouldn’t ever think it would. Kinda like you watching me,” he’s not wrong, but he’s so full of himself.

“Stop flirting,” Ari smiles, and you point down the hallway for him to go first. If you have to lock up the stadium, he must lead the way. He’s the forbidden fruit. Don’t fall for a hockey player. They’re nothing but trouble.

——

Ari looks up at you from the ice, and then back to his team. He tries to hide the grin that perks his mouth up, but a few catch it. Even the nosy Jensen rests his chin on his hockey stick smiling like an idiot at his captain. “That’s going to be all for today. Rest, drink your water, work out your muscles, and be ready.”

“Exactly how do you work out your muscles, Lev?” Jake’s eyes drift towards you before returning to Ari with a shit eating grin.

“Shut up, Jensen.”

“So that means that you and…”

“Jensen!” Another team member cuts in. “Shut up.”

“But we were told to stay away,” everyone groans, starting to walk off the ice. Each one knocking against his shoulder, and grumbling as they walk past. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. So Lev…”

“Shower quickly, Jensen,” Ari says, looking towards you. His mouth gets wider with a devilish grin. Jake starts to say something else, but Ari pushes him playfully again without looking away from you. Grunting something inaudible.

“I wish people would stop doing that.”

“Then shut up, and shower quickly. You bastards have five minutes.”

“Why five?”

“Because I have a meeting with someone,” Ari’s grin goes wider. Jake starts to say something, but Ari covers Jake’s mouth with his giant hand, and finally breaks eye contact with you, “Four minutes.”

“The boss said you had to leave that one alone,” he gives a hard finger point towards you. “You are a very bad boy. Misbehaving. Time out. Walk away, and nothing will happen.”

“And when you kindly fuck off, I’ll be an even badder boy,” Jake dramatically gasps, grabbing at his chest. “Three minutes, you cheeky bastard. Please, Jensen, I’m aching here.”

“I’m only leaving because I don’t want to hear about your blue balls. And you,” his face looks up at you, “You could have had this, and you chose that caveman! Don’t come crawling back to me! You could have had it all!” His hands slide over his chest, trying to make you swoon, you suppose.

“Jensen!”

“I am going!” His voice is nearly a whine as he marches away. “You get none of it!” He throws a hand up, emphasizing his point. Goober. He is loveable, but a goober nonetheless.

You start making your way down the bleachers, and lean over the edge, “What? You think I was going to follow you into the locker room, and you can have your way with me?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I don’t know the idea of you sucking my dick while I wash off sounds amazing,” you shake your head no, “You really don’t like sucking dick, huh?”

“Sweaty dick, absolutely not. While also being drowned by the water doesn’t sound like a fun time. But,” you step out onto the ice, and Ari’s eager eyes look up and down your body. “I could let you fuck me on the ice,” he shakes his head no. “In the stands?” Still he shakes his head no.

“Or,” you let your finger run over his chest, teasing him while also making your need for him stronger. Heat floods your body with anticipation of having Ari. Again. “I could let you take me in the locker room. That way when the big game happens this weekend, you get to stare at the place where you saw yourself leak out of me for the first time. It’ll be good luck.”

“I like that option. It’s the game that your father returns,” Ari knew you had a penchant for wanting daddy’s attention. He might have used it to his advantage. Who could blame him when you looked like that.

“I’ll give you two minutes to get cleaned, Levinson. Time starts now,” he smirks as he skates away from you, and you exhale a long breath. There would be no keeping the relationship secret when the entire team knows you are willing to drop to your knees for Ari.

You head towards the locker room, watching as players start heading out one after the other. It would be Jake that is last. You give him a cheesy grin, but he stops you. “I know what you’re doing,” no, he didn’t. “Lev can handle himself, and obviously you can, too. But — you’ve involved the rest of us in your affair.”

You nod your head, and take a step towards the locker room. “He’s more sensitive than you realize,” liar. “This place is his sanctuary. Just agreeing to fuck you here — it’s not just sex, you see?”

“What?” Of course it was just sex. It was amazing and fun sex. But there is absolutely nothing more than sex here.

“He’s had a thing for you for a while,” Jake shrugs as he starts to walk away. Ari didn’t even know you. “It was just a crush, but he did some instagram stalking. And he saw something in you. It’s not just sex, okay?”

“Okay,” you timidly answer. Jake’s face grimaces, but you don’t know what else to say. He’s not supposed to be the serious one here.

“Don’t act weird when your dad comes back. That’s all I’m asking. Keep doing what you’re doing. That’s all. He’s a good man. A giant big man that is super soft underneath his ultra thick exterior,” your mouth turns into an ‘oh’ as you finally understand. You nod your head. You could tell right away that Ari isn’t all that he portrays. You didn’t want to stop doing what you’re doing. Just didn’t want it so open. Too late now.

“Protect him, because he’ll protect you,” he says before finally walking away.

You gather up some courage to walk into the locker room, and spot Ari sitting down. Leaning over with his forearms resting on his thighs, looking like the most delectable meal you’d ever seen, and wrapped in only a towel. You turn around to lock the door, and remain with your back to him as you kick off your shoes, and shimmy out of your leggings.

Giving him the view of seeing the the cheeks of your ass. He sucks in a hard breath at the show you’re putting on display. His body is begging him to just have his way with you, but his head is wanting you to lead today. He’s tired physically. He needs you to.

Making your way over to Ari, you wait for him to sit up. Ari’s beefy hand grips his cock, and you crawl into his lap. Hissing as his thick girth pierces your body. And you don’t stop your descent until he’s fully sheathed. You take a few deep breaths, letting your body adjust to his size. You’ll never tired of this feeling.

“You look beautiful trying not to wince.”

“That does not sound like I look beautiful.”

”When you’re trying not to wince because I’m almost too big for this pretty little pussy, yeah, it’s beautiful,” you lift your body up slightly, but Ari pulls you back down. “Stay with me for a while.”

“You’ve got me,” you reassure him. Two more days until the big game, and Ari’s strong front is faltering. Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around the big man, and pet over his bare back. Moving to sit up, only to remove your top, and give him the satisfaction of skin on skin. Holding him again.

Big giant man, but loves soft sweet touches.

He never lets anyone see this side of him. Worried that he won’t be the captain that he needs to be. Worried he’ll let his team down. Arrogant to a fault, until he’s seated inside you, and then he is the softest man you’ve ever met. You like the two sides of him. And love that he fells comfortable enough to give you this side of him. That this part is only reserved for you.

You paint his freckled shoulders with your lips. Relaxing and easing him into a vulnerable state before rolling your hips. Taking him balls deep. He moans in satisfaction. The most beautiful sound that you could think of happens when his tip kisses your cervix. A pleasured pain of him bottoming out.

Your upper body worships him so softly, but your lower body is taking him for all he’s worth. He bucks up, his hips meeting your own in a sinful dance. No words are exchanged as you give freely, and he takes greedily. Allowing you enough control, while also spearing up into you with so much need and ferocity that you go brainless.

Ari.

That is the only thing in your head. The only thing that truly matters. In this moment.

The two of you work because you each get what you need from the other. A safe place to land when you need it. No judgement when you let your vulnerable sides out. And still such a need for the other's body. The need to be all in. And you mean all. A few short weeks, and you want more. You crave more.

Truth be told, it was never just sex even for you. It’s comfort. And this big burly man is the most comfortable man.

His hands grip to the bench, and he stabs into your body so fiercely that you lean up off his shoulders. “You’ll be at the game, right?” You give him a head nod in response, and grip to his shoulders. Using his body as reigns as you hold on for the ride of your life. Planting your feet firmly before you fuck him. If he wants it hard, he’ll get it.

Raising up of him, and slamming yourself down over him again and again. Each time with more force and ferocity. Each time letting him go deeper. Letting him take more of you because you don’t care anymore. You know that he could take all of you, and he would protect it.

“Do I get a kiss after the game?”

“Make it official?” You whimper. Your body starts to seize and it’s not just because of the impending orgasm. It’s the fact that he is ready for the world to know. Ready for you to admit what you already knew. You are a goner.

“Yes,” he pants. Grabbing onto your hips, and using them to center himself. His body tightens up, and he tries to fight off the inevitable. Whether it’s his release, or your refusal to give him what he wants. You. No hiding. Official.

“So…we’re…”

“I’d like to think that we are,” he soothes. His mouth attaches to your neck, and he kisses your most tender area. Nipping and suckling onto body like it gives him life. Pleasure builds up in your core, and you don’t know if you can hold on much longer. Or deny anything anymore.

“Say it,” if he wants you, let him tell you. If he wants to be public, he better be honest with you first.

“Be mine. Only mine. And I’m only yours.”

“Wrong answer,” you grit your teeth. Getting pissed off at him not wanting to make that final fall.

“Being my girlfriend sounds childish,” you cock up one of your eyebrows. That is definitely the wrong answer. You can’t fight off your pleasure anymore. There’s too much pressure, and you careen off course. Letting your body soak up the euphoria that only he’s been able to give you. But you can’t stop. You want him to feel the same way you do.

Punishing yourself with pleasure you bounce on top of him. Mewling out his name, and wanting to curse him for his stubbornness. Asshole. If he wants you. He can do it the right way. He can say it. Scream it. You didn’t care. Just admit it.

“Oh god,” he screams, and clenches onto the bench harder. “You’re so fucking amazing,” his voice is so hard as he fights off his own pleasure. “So fucking perfect,” he repeats, and allows himself the release that you are aching for.

Moaning as ropes of his warm cum paint the inside of your body. The feeling of him so deep inside of you makes you come again. Your walls clench down around him. Holding him in place as you pulse around him. You black out from pleasure. Eyes lulling in the back of your head, speaking in tongue and you look up at the ceiling. It’s just too much. He’s too much. Nothing can ever feel like that.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he whispers into your ear as you come down from the best high in life. “I want the world to know who you belong to, and who I belong to,” his nose pets along your jaw. “Please?”

“Yes,” you whisper. You collapse onto his giant body. Arms going limp as they wrap around him. “I always feel my best when I’m with you.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @rnurse-kole @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87

@rogersbarber @distractingbeth @musingsfromthemitten @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy

[suuuupernovaaa]

Treat | Hobie Brown x f!Reader

Your innocent image is shattered when Hobie finds your hidden piercing.

Art credit.

Requested by @friedturtlewhispers. Essentially this, with a different piercing.

Mature. Smut. 18+.

The show hasn't been over for two minutes yet when I feel two strong hands on my waist, gripping tight and pulling me backwards. I nearly spill my drink on the already sticky floor of this underground bar as Hobie spins me around, and brings his lips crashing down on to mine.

"Oh!" I let out a muffled gasp of surprise, and feel Hobie's lips turn up into a smile as they still rest against mine. He pulls away, and takes my drink out of my hand. He brings it to his nose, and takes a sniff. "Gin?" He wrinkles his nose, and I open my mouth to defend my choice, but he's already downed it in one gulp.

"Let's get out of here," he says, grabbing my hand and pulling.

"Oh, okay - bye!" I say over my shoulder to the guy I was talking to at the bar - a big fan of the band, who stands with his jaw agape. I find it awkward to mention that I'm sort of, semi, casually but not really casually, dating a band member. It feels like bragging, probably because I'm so proud of it.

We're outside in the cool night air before I know it, and there's a ringing in my ears from the show.

"Did you like it?" Hobie asks as we turn right, heading towards my apartment.

"I always like it," I reply, squeezing his hand. "Why did we leave so fast?"

He leans over, smirking down at me. "I want to be alone with you."

--

As I flop back onto the couch, I hand Hobie the beer he requested. He takes it, and immediately leans forward, setting it on the coffee table. before even taking a drink.

Unable to help myself, I pick it up and place it on the coaster that was only inches away.

Hobie rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "You can't spend your whole life cleaning up after me."

I shrug. "Sure I can."

He bumps his shoulder into mine, and I lean back into him. Even though I enjoy spending the weekends out with Hobie, lingering in the bars after his shows until the wee hours, it feels so much more my speed to be back home before midnight, relaxed on the couch, just the two of us.

"This is nice," I say with a contented sigh. Hobie's feet are up on the coffee table, and my legs are crossed, one of my knees resting in his lap. He runs his fingers over my bare leg, starting on my shin and up over my knee. The lights are off, and the dull light of a horror film is the only thing lighting the room. I don't really like scary movies, but Hobie enjoys them as background noise.

I lay my head on his shoulder as his hand moves further up, brushing against the fabric of my skirt, and pausing for a moment as if to ask for permission.

We've been seeing each other for a while, enjoying each other's company and getting to know each other, but physically, it hasn't gone all that far. It almost has, a few times, but Hobie's always had some emergency to attend to.

I feel a little foolish... but I'd almost like to be able to call him my boyfriend before we go any further. I know we're adults, but the label means something to me, anyway.

When I don't protest, his fingers snake up under my skirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. My breathing is coming more rapidly now, my heart pounding, and his fingers are almost at my panties now. I'm stiff as a board, tense, waiting for his next move.

"Before we... can I ask you something?" I say.

"Anything, love," he replies, but doesn't move his hand. He's tracing soft circles on my inner thigh, and it's hard to gather my thoughts. I remove my head from his shoulder so I can look at him.

His eyes are dark, his lips parted just slightly, and when I glance down, I see the bulge in his pants. I feel an ache in my lower stomach, and wetness between my thighs.

"Are you, or like, am I your..." The words are going as fast as they're coming, and my mouth is dry.

"You're my girl. My only girl. I'm yours." His words are assertive, sure, and his gaze is locked steadily on mine.

I grab his shirt, pulling him to me for a desperate kiss, so elated with his words and so beyond ready for him to do absolutely anything he wants to me.

Leaning back to lay on the couch, I pull him so that he's on top of me, he settles between my legs while his tongue explores my mouth.

His hand finds its way up my thigh again, and runs underneath the waistband of my underwear. His thumb dips down and brushes softly over my clit, and I gasp.

So does he.

"What's that?" he asks, and a blush settles over my cheeks. He sits up just a little, so he can look me in the eyes. "Is that a... piercing?"

I purse my lips a little and nod. "Yes."

"Fuck me, Y/N." He brings his mouth back to mine with twice the fervor of before, and pulls my panties to the side as he does, running two warm fingers over my clit, down to my entrance, and back. "I can't believe... you have that pierced. Oh, fuck, I'm so hard," he moans into my mouth, and I arch my back off the couch as he uses his fingers to trace circles around my piercing.

"Oh, Hobie," I moan, grasping his back. He sits up suddenly, removing his hand from me, and I collapse back onto the couch in a huff.

He takes his vest and shirt off, and then pulls my panties and skirt down over my legs. There isn't a moment to breath before his face is between my legs, and he takes my clit into his mouth, sucking and biting gently, then dragging his tongue down to my entrance to gather the wetness that is quickly forming there.

"Hobie!" I gasp, holding his shoulders tightly. He doesn't let up. He brings up two fingers, teasing at my entrance as he takes my clit back into his mouth, and pushes them gently inside me. "Oh, God," I moan, pressing down onto his fingers as they fuck me.

He's making the most delicious noises, humming and grunting and moaning as he works, showing me no mercy. I feel absolutely desperate with need, and every time he thrusts his fingers in, I grind down on them.

"Oh, god, oh, shit," I gasp as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. He rolls the piercing around his mouth with expert precision, working delicately and then biting down, keeping me always guessing, driving me to ecstasy.

He pulls away just for a moment to look up at me. "Cum for me," he demands, and when he brings his lips back to my swollen mound, I explode. I scream his name as I do, unashamedly loud in my orgasm, and he continues his assault, giving me wave after wave of pleasure, until I am absolutely exhausted.

He brings his head up to mine, and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"What the fuck, Y/N?" he says with a teasing smile, and kisses me firmly. "That's a hell of a surprise."

I grin shyly back at him. "That's the point."

"You're so... innocent. Your ears aren't even pierced! You almost never swear. You go to church, for christ sake!"

I roll my eyes. "Only on holidays with my parents."

"Still," he replies with a laugh. "What a fuckin' treat."

[zarnzarn]

The doors to Olympus are sturdy and strong, given everyone's preferences for drama and slamming said doors open and sending them cracking into the wall whenever the opportunity arises. Which is why it's a surprise when they creak open during the once-a-decade pantheon meeting; less so because no entity worth their salt would take so long to open the doors, and more so because everyone who is anyone is already there.

But if everyone is being honest with themselves- which no one is, usually- these gatherings are boring enough that the bland conversation is dropped immediately in favour of craning their necks to catch a glimpse of whatever is coming to relieve them of their boredom.

When the doors finally open however, several of the pantheon murmur in surprise.

"Odysseus," Athena whispers, wide-eyed as she pushes herself off her throne to her feet. It is him- in the king's garb he was buried in but the face he has when he reached home, hair till the shoulders and speckled with grey, face oddly blank. His feet are transparent.

"What are you doing here, sceptre?" Poseidon booms, hair the color of a stormy sea. Zeus, beside him, looks reserved, observing the ghost with something approaching curiosity- eyes flicking to the lightning scars on his daughter's face and back. "Your time has long passed, and Hades-"

"It is a temporary agreement," Odysseus says curtly, barely sparing him a glance as he approaches his patron. "Athena."

Her armour clinks as she steps forward and the gods all twitch, trading glances. Owls are silent creatures- to have her aspect so affected to make noise was... uneasy to say the least. She even holds herself different than usual, something like confused delight shining in her eyes. "How did you-"

"Did you sleep with my wife?"

The throne room is silent. Several jaws drop.

Athena straightens back up, blinking in surprise. She looks a bit shifty, some of the nymphs closest whisper to each other, which- well, almost every single god present owed some part of their existence to the mere story of Odysseus loving his wife.

Would he fight his own patron goddess over it in front of Mount Olympus, though? He certainly was unbalanced enough; Athena herself looked rather uncertain of her odds, even though-

"Are you addled in death, King of Ithaka?" Artemis drawls, looking amused. "Did you forget that your own patron is celibate? Whatever rumor you-"

"No, I-" Athena says suddenly, shifting her spear to her other hand. "I did."

Artemis chokes on her breath and several assorted divine beings gasp in shock and the rest shouting for explanations, although everyone is nearly drowned out by Aphrodite's loud, "WHAT?"

Odysseus inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I cannot believe you."

"She asked-" Athena starts, only to be drowned out by the din of various beings screeching and shouting about the scandal.

"ATHENA!" Hera hisses, peacock tail fanning behind her sharply as she pushes herself up. "Explain yourself!"

Athena half-turns to face her, face creased in a frown. "Mother, I-"

"LET ME REPHRASE!" Odysseus cuts in loudly, and the shouting settles down into silence. He walks to his patron, eyes blazing. "I cannot believe," he throws his clenched fists wide as he growls the last word, "-you took Penelope to bed-" Athena surprisingly stays still as he reaches her, mouth falling open as he grabs her by the chiton to yank her down, uncaring of the gasps of horror from all around as he snarls, "-before you ever kissed me."

And then Odysseus grabs Athena by the face roughly and kisses her.

This time Aphrodite's shriek cannot be escaped by anyone.

"Aphrodite, please," Zeus says a few moments later, wincing as his throne reforms around him, stained oddly pink. Quite a few minor entities have discorporated, and the ones nearest to her are still trying to regenerate their hearing. "Control yourself."

Their eyes land back on where Athena has dropped her spear- dropped her spear, Ares in the corner seems to be having some minor hysteria over this, well warranted- and is also on the floor, still being thoroughly kissed by that insufferable, mannerless hero of hers, perched on her stomach to reach. Zeus inhales in fury, Poseidon close behind him as the shock wears off, lightning crackling around his fingers as he opens his mouth to shout- of all the indignities-

"If you two ruin this for me," Aphrodite thunders, warping in front of them and glaring. "I will make you both regret it."

Both gods visibly blanch at the threat, taken aback for one brief moment. Threats from Aphrodite are far worse than any of her more violent siblings, at the end of the day.

Zeus visibly gathers himself just as Athena's helmet clatters to the floor, and he gains a second wind immediately, eye twitching as he spreads a hand to the spectacle in the middle of the hall. "WHAT MANNER OF DISRESPECT IS THIS? TO BARGE INTO OUR MEETING AND THROW ONE OF THE OLDEST GODDESSES TO THE FLOOR LIKE A COMMON WENCH-"

"Zeus," Hera says quietly. Everyone falls silent, although it's not quite enough to stop the two tangled together on the ground. She clears her throat, which finally seems to get through to Athena, who had finally seemed to have gotten over her shock enough to reach out, hands hovering over Odysseus hesitantly. Still, at the noise she seems to remember herself, pushing herself up on an elbow and dislodging him enough to break their necking. He pouts at her, but Athena's eyes are too glazed over to notice, heaving for breath.

Hera opens her mouth to speak, crown manifesting on her brow as she steps in front of the throne, but closes it as the door rattles again.

This time, the spectre shimmers with a faint hint of scales that comes with a freshwater nymph's heritage and excited whispers starved for drama explode across the room as the Queen of Ithaka steps into the room, skirts hitched in her hand and panting as if she'd been running.

"Your Graces," She bows respectfully before entering, Spartan princess through and through, until she catches sight of her husband and Athena, the former of whom seems to have taken the opportunity to start kissing the wisdom goddess again, fingers in her curls.

"What are you doing?" She snaps, rushing over. The entire courtroom holds its breath. She slaps her husband upside the head, making him yelp and move back to shoot her a betrayed look. Athena looks even further dazed than before, cheeks red. "Argos has more manners than you! No wonder Lady Athena wanted nothing to do with you- ah, hello, darling, by the way."

"Penelope," Athena murmurs hoarsely, and the Queen of Ithaka leans down to kiss her as well.

Odysseus chuckles, then jumps with everyone else as Hera slams a hand down on the throne elegantly, cracking it to the base.

"Ah, goddess-" He says, clambering off Athena to bow.

"Silence," Hera interrupts, holding up a hand, eyes cold. "You will not say anything to me apart from an explanation. My agreement for your release from Ogygia was due to the assurance that your marriage was one of the truest I have ever witnessed, conveyed by Athena herself when bartered with all of us to let you go. Tell me, was it a ploy? Because from the disgraceful looks of it, this seems to not be the case in the slightest."

Odysseus frowns, face twisting in confusion. "Athena bartered with...?" He turns to look at his patron, who stares back, unspeaking. His eyes flicker to the lightning scar over her right eye as Penelope traces it with horrified eyes and a gentle thumb, and understanding seems to dawn.

For a moment, rage seems to fill him, glaring with a hatred towards Zeus that everyone whispered later wasn't met by the god king with anger, but a flicker of remorse- before he visibly throws it away behind Athena's old smile and bows.

"God-queen," He says formally, gracefully. Hera twitches a bit, and they'll all talk later about how odd it was to so clearly see Athena's younger mannerisms in the man, down to the curl of the letters. "My marriage to Penelope has never been false, never been broken, this I promise you." He takes Penelope's hand and squeezes it for emphasis, and she raises them as acknowledgement. "But... can you not argue that Athena has been part of our marriage all this time? From its start, where she advised me on courting and her on what to look for, to the twenty years she spent with both of us- me on the battlefield and Penelope in the court; to say nothing of how she helped raise our son and lived in our palace in the days after. And is she not so unbearably beautiful that even my Penelope couldn't wait-" He shoots a glare at her, which Penelope returns with a smile. "-when the chance was presented? How can you fault us for disgrace, after being so long apart from our wife?"

Hera raises both eyebrows at the impudence, the kind of disbelieving expression that hides a warning to tread carefully. "So you claim to be both married to Pallas Athena?"

"In every way that matters except legality," Odysseus says, fearlessly. He is dead, after all, what much can you do to a shade that they didn't already put him through when alive. He is sort of worried about Athena, though, as they both help her back to her feet, Penelope busy whispering compliments and updates and endearments in turn- she's not usually one to be quiet in face of a problem.

Hera tilts her head. "Ah, but you see. I need the legality, if I am to finally-" A helpless, excited smile pulls at her lips once, twice, before unfolding into a bright grin, peacock tails unfolding to their full wingspan. "-finally arrange for a marriage for my eldest daughter who has not once- oh finally, I can hardly believe this day has come-"

"I do not like the way you grabbed her, Sacker of Troy," Ares steps forward as Hera starts ranting half to herself, half to an equally loud assemblage of joyful entities about wedding arrangements, eyes narrowed.

Odysseus barks an incredulous, loud laugh, gesturing to Athena with a slightly crazed look in his eyes. "This lady has broken- and I do not exaggerate- every single bone in my body before I saw my sixteenth year. I have punched her a hundred times in the face when she taught me how to fight. We'll survive, thanks."

"That is fair," Ares steps back, hands raised.

"What duties will you provide as spouses, Ithakan Queen?" Hestia questions, stepping forward.

"Oh, the same we did when we were living," Penelope huffs a laugh. "Keep her busy, make her laugh, be of mild frustration to her, love her well, worship her-"

"I do not. Need to know," Hestia closes her eyes and raises a hand to cut her off, stepping back. Around them, the din catches speed and volume as no further objections arise, excitement spilling into the air.

"What is happening?" Athena says faintly, looking around as if she was just waking up.

"-oh, and we can get out the decor once more! Hebe, Aphrodite, loves, do you remember where we kept the fountains-"

"-finally, a reason to celebrate! Call them all out of hiding-"

"-can't believe this is finally happening, oh sister, what songs should we-

"Why am I getting married," Athena says with much more alarm and horror. She turns to Odysseus and shakes him by the shoulder, eyes wild. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"How is this nothing? Do you have any idea the headache-"

"Athena, sweetheart, will you consider changing into that beautiful piece you made for the ceremony?"

Creakily, she turns her head to Hera, disbelief pasted across her face. "Mother," She says slowly. "They are both dead."

"Oh, I'll make a deal with Hades or something, you hush!" Aphrodite leans forward and snaps, before her irritation melts back into a manic joy. "Oh, what paint shall we do?"

Paint, Athena mouths, looking afraid for possibly the first time since her conception.

Penelope laughs and tugs on Athena's hand to make her turn, tucking dishevelled curls behind her ear. She wonders if the goddess knows how beautiful she is when she's flustered. "Take us away," She whispers. On Athena's other side, Odysseus leans against their patron with a besotted, helpless smile as he stares up at her, her helmet and spear in hand. She'd missed Athena like a limb, missed her deep laugh at night when they'd discussed the day's court, the dry jokes, the hands over hers as she weaved- but Odysseus wasn't himself without her, happy though they were in Hades' lands together, all of them.

"I'm-" Athena wavers, then looks around once more at all the excited screaming, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. Almost against her will, her eyes fall to Zeus, who is sitting silently and staring back at her. Poseidon looks like he still wants to start a fight, but clearly by his wary looks below can tell he will be heavily outnumbered by the overexcited crowd to not try, but Zeus just stares back at her, face blank of any emotion.

"We ask you formally this time," King Odysseus says, walking in front of her to take her attention away, holding onto her hand. His voice has strength in it, drawing the eyes of the murmuring crowd, but he's deaf to it as he stares up at her.

"Will you be our wife?" Queen Penelope asks, joining him, watching their beautiful patron shudder for breath she does not need as her eyes flick to one of them and then the other.

"Yes," She whispers and cheers erupt all across Mount Olympus.

"Finally!" Odysseus complains, and then pulls her down once more to kiss her, all three of them fading at the edges as one of the generous gods present there- who seems to realize that they're not very inclined to stop anytime soon- thankfully teleports them away into a nice room with a large bed.

"Finally," He whispers as he breaks apart to lay her down, cupping her face, voice heavy with the longing of a full lifetime and more. Penelope circles to the head of the bed and starts undoing Athena's braid, staring at them both lovingly.

Later the ones closest will murmur, as the silhouettes faded away, that tears had slipped from proud Pallas Athena's eyes as she placed one hand against Odysseus' cheek, trembling.

"I missed you," She will whisper back, and all three of them fade away to their own story, yet to be made.

[skelswritingcorner]

Marvel Rivals Characters + Reader w/ Endometriosis (Dr. Strange, Iron Fist, Human Torch, Jeff the Land Shark)

Greetings, Marvel Rivals fans of Tumblr. This somewhat comprehensible word soup is based on something I often do when I get invested in something I like enough: Make characters (especially male characters) witness the horrors of endometriosis. I have this condition myself, and these fics are written as a way to both practice my writing and to help bring awareness to this condition.

If you suspect that you or someone you know has endometriosis or a similar condition, please consult an OB/GYN. I am not a medical professional, just some combination college student and Vtuber who has the condition. It's what your blorbo would want.

These can read as either platonic or romantic. Except for Jeff, his is to be read like a cat who knows you're in pain and is barreling into you to give comfort.

DISCLAIMER: This is written under the assumption that these characters are cisgender, and therefore don't have first-hand experience with menstruation.

Warnings: Menstruation, endometriosis

DR. STRANGE

Being a former surgeon, he likely performed a hysterectomy at least once. And likely knows what an endometriosis-ridden body looks like (Look it up on your own risk, it looks… just yikes). Because of this likely experience of his, he knows about the impacts endometriosis has on the body. And he is concerned.

Dr. Strange will likely have you stay at the Sanctum Sanctorum for the time being, so that he can keep a close eye on you.

“I’ve once operated on someone with your affliction,” he places a cup of herbal tea on the table next to you, “I’ve seen how the body is affected. And yet, this is the first time I’ve witnessed someone being affected by it.”

And that wouldn’t be a lie. As he was a surgeon, he rarely saw the symptoms of the patients he operated on. He knew that they were being affected, but only the body. Witnessing you curled up in fetal position, trying your damndest to not audibly sob from the pain, it breaks his heart in a way he never expected it to break.

While Dr. Strange can’t assist medically, he can at least give emotional support. Be there for you. Need menstrual products? He’ll open up a portal to the store to get some for you if you need any. Bats will be there too for extra emotional support. Sometimes, you just need a pet for comfort. Even if the comfort is coming from a ghost dog.

Dr. Strange will keep you with him for at least a day or two. If anyone asks? “They’re suffering, and I cannot in good conscience leave Y/N alone with their pain. Especially when I’ve seen how their condition affects their organs firsthand.”

When you’re recovered enough that he no longer needs to keep a consistent eye, Dr. Strange will try to persuade you to go to a medical professional if you haven’t already. And if you have and they dismissed your concerns? Go to another one. He likely still has some connections to people in the medical field, so he might be able to find an OB/GYN for you.

IRON FIST

When he sees you in pain, he is originally confident in his ability to help. “Don’t worry Y/N, I’m the Immortal Iron Fist. This is nothing!” He says, not knowing what he’s doing at all. Whatsoever.

It’s likely that he didn’t have many people close to him that menstruate, so he’s just floundering around while keeping up a confident facade. Said facade quickly breaks, as he confesses that he genuinely does not know what he’s doing within an hour.

Even though Iron Fist does not know what to do at first, he at least tries to help. Then proceeds to call Luna Snow to ask her about what he should do, because this poor man does not know what to do. He thought he could figure it out by himself, but he quickly realizes that he doesn’t know dick or shit regarding menstruation or endometriosis.

With some pointers from Luna, he gathers stuff that might be able to alleviate the pain or distract from it and proceeds to put you in a blanket burrito to the best of his ability. In reality, he just dumps several blankets on top of you.

Most of Lie’s logic around what he does to help is based on what he knows helps him with his pain, or whenever he got sick when he was younger. Brewing an herbal tea, making you Luo Song Tang (Shanghai-style red vegetable soup) if he has the time, if not just egg drop soup of some variety. Over time he gets better, but for now he’s confused.

Once you’re able to explain your condition, he just frowns. Can he… punch the endometriosis out with his Iron Fist powers? Actually, no, that’s ridiculous. Guess Lin Lie has to settle on helping you every once in a while.

HUMAN TORCH

“Hey sweet stuff, are you ready for sOH GOD WHAT IS GOING ON?” is the first thing that comes out of this twink’s mouth when he sees you. Then he quickly zooms over to you to see whatever’s going on. When he realizes that you’re on your period, he’s going to tilt his head. He’s seen his sister on her period, and she was never in that much pain. Johnny makes the connection that something’s deeply wrong, but he likely says nothing other than “Stay there, oh who am I kidding you’re probably stuck there, I need to call someone.”

Who does he call, you may ask? Sue Storm. He just calls his sister. Who else was he gonna call, Reed? Reed might be his brother-in-law, but he doesn’t have the first-hand experience that Susan does. Susan, for the record, answers all of his questions. Likely secretly proud that her little brother cares enough about someone that he’s seeking advice.

When he gets the advice from his sister, he kicks into high gear to get you whatever you need. Fire may be involved, but he will resist the urge to flame on. Pads? Tampons? Ibuprofen? Blanket hoard? He’s gotchu. He’ll even use his hands as a makeshift heating pad if you’re cool (heh) with it.

He’s gonna call you a ketchup packet, but he does so affectionately. Unlike Moon Knight, who says it like an insult. Fuck you, Marc.

Once you aren’t in bedridden pain, Johnny’s going to barrel a bunch of questions at you. Mostly about what in the world could cause cramps that painful. When he finds out that it’s because of a condition affecting the uterus and other organs, his face scrunches. “Shouldn’t there be a cure for that by now?” he asks, and when you say that there isn’t, he just says, “Bummer. There should be one. Maybe I can ask Reed, he’s smart. He could find one in uh… a month?”

He is being 100% serious with this, by the way. Even if you say that it wouldn’t be necessary, he’s probably gonna do it anyway. First, he’s going to focus on taking care of you. Then he’ll ask his brother-in-law if he can find a cure for endometriosis.

JEFF THE LAND SHARK

He might not be able to speak to you without someone else to translate on his behalf, but the moment he sees you… he knows something is wrong. Jeff is a shark, he knows the smell of blood. This little dude will jump to your side, likely try to use some of his healing powers on you. It doesn’t do much other than make your face wet. Quickly, he realizes that this isn’t something he can heal. So the most he can do is give you emotional support in this very sucky time.

Jeff will approach with a mrrrr, like he usually does, and plop himself on your stomach. Or on your head. Or place himself on your side. If you try to move him away, or if someone tries to coax Jeff to leave you, he’s going to growl. He’s not leaving you unless he absolutely has to.

He even follows you to the bathroom whenever you need to use the toilet or change menstrual products. He even investigates the products by sniffing them if you allow it.

Given enough time, Jeff might be able to tell when you’re about to start your period based on smell alone. When he figures that it’s near, he starts clinging to you more and more, and when it arrives he’s essentially locked at your hip. With the few people he knows can understand him, he likely informs them too. Jeff is just a good boy all around.

~~~

Bluesky | Twitch (on hiatus) | Kofi | Vgen |

[earls-wife]

Prepare to be sick of me ahh i love your writing so much!!❤️ How about intimate moments with Ciel that some people might deem sexual but to them it’s like a normalized thing? Like them just having skin to skin moments alone 🌝🌝

Your wish is my command, have these snippets of brain worms that refuse to develop into butterflies. I headcannon the Earl and his wife are not societies prude ones. He still has class, he's just very dotting with her (and likes to use their affection to keep his business deals and other annoying members of society: cheap, in line and out of his home lol).

Keep the requests coming, if you dare. ;)

Reminder: OCiel is aged up to late 20s and goes by the name Astré here. For details, check out my page and my other works if you'd like!

Warnings: smoke, busybodies, suggestive moments but not detailed, naked but not described, Astré is a simp for his wife! I guess this could be considered NSFW....

Moments That Didn't Stay in The Dark

They didn't understand. How could they?

A fleeting temple kiss in a candles flame from a dark corner of the billardroom was seen as a scandal. To him it was a play for power. To bring her into his domain of authority among smoke, the clatter of a cue ball and his next target.

A caress to his wife's lower back on the rare occasion they danced at a gathering, a communication to say 'I desire you', not a reason for the gossiping hens of society to cluck behind their fans at them. Nuisances.

His gloved fingers hapazardly tugging the bodice of her gown back in place as a servant (MeyRin) squeaks out an apology for interrupting. He sighs wondering if he'll ever get a moment alone with his wife in his own home.

Her fingers gripping his thigh at the dinner table among guests that baggered him. Unlike upperclass tradition of hosts not sitting together, he simply didn't care. He wasn't letting other men near his bride, not when she looked so appetizing and stroked her thumb closer to...

Mumbling in French to her after a long day of work in the office. He had forced himself to spend time away so they could develope a routine outside of the honeymoon phase that still nipped at their hearts. Now in bed, he quickly removed her chemise and pulled her beneath him so he could kiss her heart and get lost in her arms before exhaustion took him. Sleeping together was mandatory and anyone who said his wife shouldnt stay in his bed would be escorted away by Sebastian. Two rooms? Please. Good riddance to the thought.

Desperate kisses dragged across eachothers lips, heated and full of fire while a shocked audience watched on. She had returned from a business deal (kidnapped), and his hands were quickly balling up her skirts in his hands to get to her, to her skin that was alive and not dead, like his family.

Kissing her ankle after she had a tumble playing crochet with some friends. A Lord on his knees? A ladies ankle, bear of a stocking? His wife's great aunt fainted seeing his affection so publicly, while other ladies watched in in envy of his wife. Other gentleman shifted uncomfortable with seeing the guard dog collared and smitten by a woman.

Astré (OCiel) kneeling before the bed, head resting in her hap as she carded her fingers through his hair after a case that left him spiraling. The demons clung to him yet she plucked each one and set them in a box for later deliberation. As the weight wore away he wrapped his arms around her waist burying his face in her stomach, desperate to know he's not alone.

His wife's hands caressing his back in the bath, not joining him for once, but insisting on doing a servants duty and washing him down. Her fingers trace his brand and her eyes soften with knowing the horrors. He turns and caressed her face assuring her that after all there time together, he isn't afraid of her touch...no matter how hesitant she may be. Astré quickly ignored her request to finish bathing him and pulls her into the bath instead to correct her assumptions. A wet night dress and a few evening delights later had her convinced he was telling the truth.

Breathless and sweaty from pleasure as the sheets stick to there bodies. His wife resting against his bare shoulder as he kissed her hairline, rubbing her arm as he summoned air into his lungs. She was gonna kill him with all that energy. But he wouldn't trade her hunger for him for the world. He just wished he could keep up better. He makes mental notes to ask Sebastian to find some 'reading material' to surprise her with next time she was in need.

[trianglart]

I've been pretty absent from my Tumblr this year, because for the past 8 months I've been working on this game with my friends in the animation industry!!! 💖

I don't usually talk too much about myself on here but I've been working as a professional animator since I graduated college almost 5 years ago :') It's been really tough to do so the past couple of years with mass layoffs and AI hitting the industry hard. A lot of my friends, me included, have struggled to find stable jobs, and places that are hiring have increasingly taken advantage of people's desperation to lower wages and use exploitative labor practices.

So...we decided to try starting our very own, worker-owned indie game studio! This past year we've been pouring our hearts into this little hand drawn cozy horror game that's inspired by some of our personal stories of growing up in difficult households as well as our love for picture book illustrations and traditional animation.

You can find more info about the game and wishlist it now on Steam:

If you're a fan my art I hope you'll check it out!! Thank you so much :D

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hey! So I had this Hurt comfort fic idea with Charles where she is engaged to him. Have you seen the video about the crowd in Montreal surrounding him? So something like them arriving and he's signing and clicking pics through the crowd holding her hand and the crowd and paps goes a bit haywire and she is separated and then visibly very hurt and injured because of that. And Charles is angry and protective, with the "Idc about myself but if anyone touches/hurts you I lose it" or something similar. Add drama and spice as you feel

Thank you Babe ❤️

A Step Too Far || CL16

Warnings: fluff, angst, implied smut WC: 1.9k

Charles could remember the first time he met your father. Obviously it wasn’t the first first time but it was the first time as your boyfriend, and that made it more important than any of the times they met in the paddock. Toto had gripped his hand tightly as they shook, pulling the younger driver closer to whisper in his ear.

“That’s my daughter, Charles, you put her above all else. It’s my job to protect her, and I’m trusting you here.”

“I understand, sir. I’ll keep her safe.”

“What did he say?” you asked as you left for your date.

“Nothing, ma chérie,” Charles assured you with a smile and a kiss to your cheek.

For three years he had kept that secret promise religiously, even as his popularity grew beyond his wildest expectations. He couldn’t walk down the street without being recognised, crowds gathering and people asking for photos or signatures. It wasn’t exactly new for you having grown up the way you did, but Charles’ fans were far more excitable and passionate than the ones who met your father.

Monza 2023

Everywhere you looked it was a sea of red supporters, the tifosi out in force to celebrate the third and fourth places Ferrari had taken in the race. You could see the equal parts of pride and disappointment on Charles’ face as he watched Carlos take the third step on the podium.

After heading back to his driver room, he collapsed into a chair with a groan and hung his head in his hands. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head, wrinkling your nose at the sweat that dampened his dark hair. “That was a hell of a fight, baby.”

His grunt told you he thought otherwise but he placed his hand over yours and gave it a soft squeeze. “I almost had it, amour.”

“I know.” You nuzzled into his neck until his shoulders bunched up and he wriggled with a laugh at his ticklish spot.

“Okay, okay, no more moping,” he said as he stood up and turned to face you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You held up your hand that had a sparkly new ring resting upon it. “Or I wouldn’t have said yes.”

“I’m very glad you did.” He smiled as he took your hand and kissed the engagement ring. “I need to shower. There’s room for one more…”

Charles kept you tucked close to his side as he made his way through the lines of fans to where his car was pulling up. You were running late once again, after being distracted while you were meant to be getting dressed to go out for dinner. He left your side for only a moment to open your door but that moment was all it took as the metal barriers separating the crowd came crashing down and they surged forward.

The sight and the sound gave you a fright and you stepped back instinctively. “Charles!” He turned at your panicked tone and watched with horror as your heeled foot missed the curb, twisting painfully as you fell. For a second he lost sight of you in the sea of red and he was spurred into action.

“Back up! Get out of my way!” he shouted to the crowd as he pushed his way to you. Rage filled him as he found you crumpled beside his car, arms wrapped protectively around your head while the bodies finally started to give you room. Tears blurred your vision as pain radiated from your ankle and suddenly you were weightless as a familiar pair of arms picked you up. “Amour, are you hurt?”

You could hardly hear him as the crowd demanded his attention, screaming as they waved hats and posters in his direction. The look he sent them should have been warning enough but they were too high on his presence to notice.

“Amour?”

“My ankle,” you admitted with a wince as it was jostled.

He released a torrent of expletives under his breath as he carried you to the driver’s seat and climbed in with you on his lap, your legs hanging over onto the passenger seat. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he apologised as he kissed your temple and pulled out of the hotel.

“It’s not your fault, Charles, I should have been paying more attention.”

“You got hurt because of me, that’s the only reason they were there. Shit.” His eyes darted to the centre screen as it announced an incoming call from Toto and he hit the accept button on the steering wheel.

“You haven’t lost your watch again, have you?” Toto greeted, his voice thick with amusement.

“We are almost there,” he replied as he turned onto the street where the restaurant reservation was booked. “We just ran into some trouble with some fans.”

The silence was deafening until it was broken by the scratch of a chair being pushed back on a wooden floor followed by the click of your father’s footsteps. “Trouble?”

You watched the door to the restaurant open and your father ignored the concierge as he stepped to the curb Charles was pulling up to. “This should be fun.” Charles grimaced at your words and ended the call as Toto tucked his phone away and opened the passenger door.

Toto stared at the empty seat before dragging his eyes across the space to find you on your fiancé’s lap. “Hi papa.”

“Don’t hi me,” he tutted as he walked around and moved the valet along with a wave of his hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you assured him as you accepted his hand out of the sports car. “You two are as dramatic as each other.”

The flare of pain was sudden and impossible to hide when your shoe touched the pavement, the joint weakly giving underneath you. If not for Charles behind you it would have been much worse but he took your weight and kept you upright.

“What the fuck have you done to my daughter, Leclerc?” You found yourself in a tug of war, but you were the rope. Your father tried to pull you out of his arms but your yelp of pain froze the very air. He relinquished his fight and raised his hands before pointing a damning finger at Charles. “Hospital, now.”

“But I’m hungry,” you whined as he instantly moved to follow the order, stepping back towards the Ferrari. “Can’t we go after dinner, please?”

You turned your pleading eyes to your father and watched his resolve weaken.

“No,” Charles interrupted before Toto could agree and you turned to him with a look of betrayal. “Don’t look at me like that, amour. I can’t bear to see you in pain, especially when it’s my fault.”

“At least you take ownership,” Toto muttered. “Susie and I will bring you dinner. Go.”

There was no room to argue, not that Charles would. He respected your father too much for that.

“You need to make a statement,” Toto said tiredly as he sat in the hospital chair opposite Charles. You were on the bed separating them, enjoying the lack of pain while the drugs did their job and waiting for the moonboot to be fitted. “Something like this cannot be allowed to happen again.”

“He didn’t exactly give them permission, papa.”

Charles cut you a look out the corner of his eye before nodding to Toto. “I’ll make sure of it, sir. It might be time to hire some security.”

Your father barely hid his scoff as he muttered, “Better late than never.” Toto sat up straighter and rubbed his tired eyes. “These are things you will need to think about even more in the future, especially when you have children of your own - you’ll realise you can’t wait until something bad happens before making changes. You need to start thinking about the future now, son.”

Charles’ stare turned out the window as he took the advice seriously. You could see the contemplation set in hard lines across his face. The look turned sad when the nurse arrived with the moonboot you would need to wear for at least two weeks and he started to withdraw into himself as he pulled his phone out. Only a few moments later you saw your phone light up with a notification that he had posted to his Instagram.

“Good man,” Toto said as he read the statement that in no uncertain terms warned his fans there would be consequences if they couldn’t respect the boundaries set.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Yes,” they both answered adamantly.

“You are all set to go, darling,” the nurse said with a soft smile. “Rest up, and if there are any concerns just come right back.”

After thanking her you hobbled along, sandwiched between your father and fiancé, to the underground car park where the car was waiting.

“I’ll come back to your hotel, make sure you get inside safely,” your father said as he opened your door and kissed your cheek.

“His fans have probably all run away by now.”

“I think you’re underestimating the tifosi. I’d rather not take the risk.”

Toto was right, because if anything there were even more fans lining the entrance to the hotel than before. Only this time there was also more security.

You were quickly ushered through to the quieter reception area where Toto shared a look that said ‘I told you so’ before bidding a goodnight and heading his own way back. The elevator ride to the penthouse suite was silent and it wasn’t the comfortable silence you were used to. It grew heavier with each level and you were itching to get out of the confined space by the time the doors opened.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered as Charles pulled his shirt off and sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I broke my promise,” he said as his shoulders sagged further, like he was moments from imploding on himself. “I swore to your father I would protect you.”

“Charles, I love you, but you can’t protect me from the world - no matter what my father thinks.” You crawled over the duvet and onto his lap so you could cup his face. “I don’t blame you and it is me who is going to be marrying you, not him.”

His brows pinched together. “I hadn’t even thought about children.”

“What?”

“After the wedding, having children - what that would be like in this environment. I hadn’t thought about it. I obviously knew it’s what I wanted for us down the line but now…it’s a little scary to think what might happen to them.”

“Char, there’s no rush. We don’t know what our future will look like in five years, or ten.” You stroked his cheeks and dipped your head forward to kiss his pouting lips. “Just focus on the here and now, baby. Forget what happened out there. In here, it’s just you and me, and a king sized bed that’s far too neatly made.”

“It is pretty neat.”

“So why don’t we mess it up?”

His eyes flicked to your legs draped over his, lingering on the bulky boot. “Amour?”

Your fingers were already running down his chest, reaching for the waistband of his trousers he had worn to dinner. “You won’t hurt me. You could never hurt me. I trust you.”

[pucksandpower]

Grid Kids: First Times

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: they know you’re their mom … you know they’re your kids … but these are the first times you all say so out loud

Series Masterlist

Max Verstappen: Champion of the World

The roar of the engines has faded, the race has ended, and the stands are filled with jubilant cheers. Among the sea of fans waving flags, the color of the Orange Army is predominant. Max Verstappen has just clinched his first World Championship.

As confetti rains down, Max climbs atop his car, soaking in the euphoria. His face displays a myriad of emotions: triumph … relief … elation. During the celebratory chaos, he searches for a familiar face, and as his eyes find yours, a calm settles over him.

As you approach, he jumps down and without a moment’s hesitation pulls you into a tight embrace. Over the din, he murmurs something almost inaudible.

“Thanks, Mom.”

You pull back, a bit taken aback. The weight of the single word isn’t lost on either of you. Max, ever the tough racer, has tears glistening in his eyes.

He clears his throat, trying to mask the emotion, “I mean, after everything, you’ve been like a second mom to me. I couldn’t have done it without your support.”

Sebastian joins the moment, a proud smile on his face. “Welcome to the champions’ club,” he jokes but the underlying pride in his voice is unmistakable.

You wipe away a tear, “I’ve always believed in you, Max. And no matter what, you’ll always be one of my grid kids.”

Charles Leclerc: What If

The race is intense, the energy palpable. But in a split second, the exhilaration turns to horror as Charles’ car careens off track, crashing into the barriers. The scene is chilling and the paddock holds its collective breath.

Time seems to stretch endlessly until, finally, the screens show Charles moving inside his cockpit. It's a sign — he's conscious. When he is carefully extricated from the wreckage and gives a thumbs-up to the cameras, relief washes over everyone.

As he is taken to the medical center, your grid kids gather, their usual playful banter replaced by anxious glances and silent support.

When you’re finally allowed to see Charles, his face is pale, eyes reflecting the trauma of the crash. Despite the bandages and evident pain, he manages a small smile upon seeing you.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

You lean over, brushing the hair from his forehead, your touch filled with motherly concern. “Hey yourself. You gave us all quite the scare.”

He swallows hard, gaze locking onto yours, vulnerability evident. “I thought ... for a moment there ... I thought I wouldn’t ...” he trails off, the gravity of the incident heavy in the room.

You take his hand, offering comfort and strength. “But you’re here, Charles. You’re here.”

He nods, tears forming. And then, in a voice filled with raw emotion, he murmurs, “Thank you, Mom.”

The title that slips out isn’t one of blood or birth but of bond and heart.

You squeeze his hand, “Always, Charles. Always.”

Lance Stroll: Who Needs Wrists Anyway?

After Sebastian’s retirement, life quiets down somewhat. The raucous race weekends are replaced with peaceful moments gardening and beekeeping. But the bond with your grid kids remains as strong as ever.

One evening, a call disturbs the calm. Lance had taken a hard fall while biking and had broken both his wrists. The news shakes you, memories of crashes flooding back. Without hesitation, you pack a bag and book the next flight out to be by his side.

When you enter Lance’s room, you're struck by the sight before you. Both his hands are in casts, his usually playful eyes clouded with pain and frustration. However, seeing you brings a faint smile to his face.

“You didn’t have to come,” he starts, though the gratefulness in his tone betrays him.

You chuckle, pulling a chair beside his bed, “How could I not? I can’t let you starve or wear the same clothes for weeks.”

Lance laughs, “Well, there’s always the option of going commando.”

You both chat, the room filled with light-hearted banter in an attempt to lift the mood. As you prepare to leave for the night after ensuring he is comfortable and has everything he needs, Lance’s voice halts you.

“You know,” he starts, hesitating, “Even after Seb retired, you still ... you’re still here for us, for me. It means a lot.”

You turn back, smiling gently. “Once a family, always a family.”

He swallows, emotion causing his voice to waver, “Thanks, Mom.”

You reach out to squeeze his arm in comfort but remember the reason for your visit. Pulling back before you could hurt Lance, you say, “Get some rest. We’ve got a lot of healing to do.”

George Russell: King of PowerPoint

The rookies sit in the dim room, fidgeting in their chairs, their faces a mix of excitement and nervousness. They’re about to receive their initiation presentation by none other than George Russell, now the Director of the GPDA — an annual tradition to welcome the new drivers, give them insights into the world of F1, and ensure they understand the guidelines, all while keeping it light and enjoyable. It’s also an excuse to give a PowerPoint … and George never turns down an opportunity to put his prowess to good use.

George steps up to the podium, clicking the remote to begin his presentation. The slides cover everything from safety protocols to media interactions. But then, a slide pops up with a familiar face on the screen: yours.

The title reads: “The Heart of Our F1 Family”

George pauses, taking a deep breath. “Now, for those of you new to Formula 1, there’s someone you need to know, someone who has been instrumental for many of us drivers, both on and off the track.”

He clicks to the next slide, showcasing a larger image of you, radiant in the middle of a race weekend while giving one of your famous pep talks to the grid kids.

“This,” George says, voice filled with warmth, “is Y/N Vettel. To the world, she’s known for her contributions to the sport, her philanthropy, and so much more. But to many of us drivers,” he glances at the familiar faces of the other grid kids sitting at the back, “she’s known simply as Mom.”

There’s a hushed silence, the emotional weight of the moment evident.

“She’s our anchor, our guiding light, and sometimes,” George grins, “our stern disciplinarian. If you ever find yourselves needing advice or just someone to talk to, you know where to turn. Welcome to Formula 1!”

Lando Norris: Stream and Shout

Lando is live on Twitch, engaging with thousands upon thousands of fans from around the world while deeply engrossed in a racing simulation game — swerving, overtaking, and trying to claim the top spot. Along with the intense gaming, he’s also juggling questions from fans.

“Hey Lando, any tips for new racers?” one fan asks.

“Just keep training, mate. And don’t get disheartened by failures,” Lando replies, narrowly avoiding a virtual crash.

Another question pops up in the chat, “Who’s been your biggest supporter in F1?”

Lando doesn’t hesitate. “Well, there’s my team, my family, and of course,” he pauses as he navigates a tricky turn on his screen, “there’s Y/N. She is ... well, she’s like a mom to many of us on the grid. Actually,” he corrects himself with a grin, leaning closer to the mic, “She IS mom.”

Fans catch on quickly, and the chat floods with comments.

“Mom? That’s so sweet!”

“Tell us more about her!”

Lando chuckles, “She’s just ... amazing. Always there, always supportive. We’ve had our fair share of fun, chaos, and love. If you’re ever around the paddock, you’ll know. Y/N is magnetic in the best way.”

Mick Schumacher: Drunken Adoration

The end-of-season party is in full swing. It is a tradition where everyone lets loose by either celebrating their successes or shrugging off the stress of the competitive year. The atmosphere is electric with loud music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

Mick has perhaps indulged a bit too much. His usually composed and calm demeanor is replaced with a giddy, slightly wobbly version of himself.

As you navigate through the crowd, ensuring everyone was having a good time and not getting into too much trouble, you find Mick seated at the bar, a glass of something strong in his hand.

“Hey!” you call out, approaching him, “Having fun?”

Mick turns, his eyes slightly glazed but recognizing you instantly. A wide smile spreads across his face, “Hey! You know, you’re really awesome.” He slurs, the alcohol evident in his speech.

Laughing, you reply, “Thanks, Mick. Maybe we should switch to water now?”

He shakes his head, trying to focus. “No, no, you don’t get it. You’re not just awesome. You’re ... you’re like ... my mom. Like, a second mom. But also the first because you’re always there and ... you get it, right?”

You chuckle, moved by his inebriated but sincere confession. “I get it, Mick. And thank you. That means a lot.”

Helping him off the stool, you decide it’s time to get him some coffee and maybe a sandwich. “Come on, let’s sober you up a bit.”

As you lead him away, Mick continues to mumble about how great you are, his drunken words filled with genuine affection.

The party continues but for you, that heartfelt albeit tipsy confession is the highlight of the evening.

You: Sons and Spotlights

It’s a grand evening and the room glistens with opulence. Influential personalities from various fields gather, all in the name of charity and giving back. The annual International Philanthropy Awards Gala is an event where the most generous hearts are recognized, and this year, you’re among the honorees.

As you take the stage to accept the award for your contributions to various charities, the spotlight shines brightly but among the crowd, you spot familiar faces — Charles, Max, Lando, Mick, George, and Lance sitting next to your husband. Their presence is unexpected but deeply touching

You begin your speech, gratitude evident in every word, “Giving back is a principle I have always lived by. We are blessed in so many ways and it’s our duty to share those blessings with others.” As you continue, mentioning the various charities and initiatives you work with, an overwhelming wave of emotion grips you.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you glance once more at your grid kids and say, “I have had many titles over the years — friend, daughter, wife — but one that has been among the most precious to me is simply being Mom.”

The room seems to hold its collective breath.

“These young men,” you continue, gesturing towards them, “are my sons in every way that matters. Not by birth but by bond. Charles, Max, George, Lando, Mick, and Lance are my source of strength, joy, and sometimes, a bit of frustration,” you add with a twinkle in your eye, causing a ripple of laughter.

“But more than anything, they are my family. And tonight, in this room filled with so many esteemed individuals, I want to take a moment to thank my sons. For their love, for their constant support, and for making me the best possible version of myself.”

As applause fills the room, your grid kids stand, pride evident in their glassy eyes that mirror your own, joining the crowd in honoring you. They might be champions on the track, but off it, they are just sons, celebrating their mom.

Bonus: A Family Holiday

Mother’s Day arrives and you wake to find a beautiful bouquet of flowers on your doorstep accompanied by a heartfelt note that reads:

For the woman who has been a mother to us all.

Touched by the gesture, you make your way to the living room. As you enter, warm smiles greet you and the scent of a homemade breakfast wafts through the air.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” your grid kids chorus, raising their glasses.

Max grins, “We know you’re not our biological mom but you’ve definitely earned the title.”

Charles, holding a tray with a stack of pancakes, adds, “We couldn’t ask for a better mentor and friend.”

Lance, with a card in hand, steps forward, “And we wanted to show our appreciation.”

You take the card, and as you read, your heart swells. It’s filled with their personal messages, anecdotes, and memories — marking the journey you’ve all shared.

George, holds out a gift bag with a sheepish grin, “We thought you might like this.”

Inside the bag is a beautiful necklace with six interconnected rings, each representing one of your grid kids. It symbolizes the bond you share, a connection as unbreakable as those rings.

Tears well up in your eyes, “This ... this is so thoughtful.”

Mick smiles softly, “You’ve always been there, through everything. This is just a small token of our gratitude.”

You pull them all into a group hug, the love and warmth radiating through the room. “Thank you, my sons. This means the world to me.”

And as you all sit down to enjoy the homemade (only slightly charred) breakfast, the simple yet emotional celebration of Mother's Day reminds you that family isn’t just about blood ties. It’s about the connections forged through shared experiences, tireless support, and love that transcends convention.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:24」 — l.jihoon

» seventeen menu | woozi menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ yuki-otoko!Jihoon × fem!Reader wc: 3.4k summary: As a snow demon, Jihoon can’t stand the heat and takes to staying in his apartment he shares with his roommate, Y/N. When the AC breaks down, Jihoon asks Y/N for help in keeping him cool. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural, horror, thriller, roommates to lovers; non idol au, roommate au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, roommates; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this was a LOT of fun to write. I enjoyed the ice aspect of it. It’s not heavy on the spitting but it is there lol it’s more heavy on the temperature play and now I wanna tie Jihoon down to my bed and tease him with ice cubes. Hehe anyway, thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging and supporting my ko-fi, linked on my pinned post! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), temperature play (m receiving), spitting (m receiving. Yeah, I know. That’s different haha), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do dis), use of pet names (hers: baby, sweetheart, angel, etc. his: babe, baby, Hoonie, etc.), that should be everything but I might have missed some. Let me know if I did! kinks: Temperature play + spitting dialogue prompt: ❛❛ What? Does that feel good? ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Jihoon let out a grumbled curse as he hit the hard plastic casing of the AC unit once more, as if that would magically make the blasted thing function. It rumbled for a moment before sputtering and dying, all the cool air blowing from the vent ceasing in an instant. He let out a groan of frustration as he stepped down from the step ladder.

“Stupid, fucking, thing,” he mumbled as he picked up the ladder, folded it, and put it away.

It was October and while most of the time, the world around him was starting to cool, summer was holding on, its claws embedded as he tried to stick out for as long as possible. Jihoon hated the summer. The unbearable heat, the unrelenting sun beating down on the world, scorching everything in its path. He hated all of it.

Which is why he was thankful for the fact he worked from home and hardly ever had to leave the apartment. He was even able to order the groceries online when you, his roommate, weren’t able to pick them up after work.

Jihoon walked into his room, grabbing one of the small hand held fans he kept in case of emergencies and turning it on, sighing as the fan whirred to life, blasting him with a small breeze. He started a search through the apartment, gathering every single fan he could find. He was on a mission.

Summer had been unbearably hot this year, the heat rising up near the hundreds almost daily. The humidity was no help, sitting comfortably in the eighty to ninety percent range, making it not only scorchingly hot but sweltering. And if you were dying, you could only image how the heat was affecting your roommate.

Jihoon was not accustomed to such high temperatures, having come from a very cold climate and built to withstand sub zero extremes. He always had a hard time with the summer but this season had been particularly hard on him and he had spent most, if not all, of his time in the apartment, unable to leave because of the extreme heat.

And you knew it was about to get worse. 

When you had woken up that morning, it was in a pool of your own sweat. The AC had stopped working and you only had your fan to cool you off which was not nearly enough. You tried to fix it yourself but you only had so much time to devote to your attempts before you had to get ready for work. Upon leaving, you left a note for Jihoon explaining that the AC was out and that you couldn’t fix it.

Upon arriving at work and after your morning meeting, you called the apartment complex manager, got transferred to maintenance and called in a work order. The woman answering the phone promised to put in the order and expedite it due to the climbing temperatures the coming weekend. You had sent a text to Jihoon, informing him of this and all you had received back was a sad frowning face.

As you finished up your work for the day, you checked your phone to find a few texts from your roommate. You checked them as you got onto the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby.

Hoon: i tried to fix it

Hoon: no luck )):

Hoon: it’s so hot ;^;

Hoon: i’m going to die

Hoon: help

You chuckled as you typed a response, letting him know you were on your way home and you would stop to get some ice cream on the way. You jokingly told him to stick his head in the freezer before slipping your phone into your purse as the elevator arrived at the lobby and you headed out the door onto the busy sidewalk.

The bus ride to the train station was uneventful and you were thankful to be out of the heat of the setting sun, underground where it was much cooler. The AC of the train didn’t even help with all the bodies crammed into the metal tube, heat radiating from one person to another. Upon arriving home, you were thankful for the AC in the lobby and elevator. Even the cool air of the hallway felt nice but entering your apartment, it felt awful.

You shut the door, turning to set your keys on the small table next to the door as you pulled your shoes off. Walking further into the room, you noticed the fans first and stared curiously at them. At least five fans were sitting in front of the couch. The three smaller desk ones sitting on the coffee table while two tower fans stood on either side, pointing directly at your roommate.

Jihoon looked like he was melting into the furniture, a small handheld fan in his hands pointed directly at his face. His brows furrowed, face twisted in what you could only assume to be agony. A thin layer of sweat coated his pale skin. He’d taken off most of his clothes, wearing only a white tank and a pair of gym shorts. “You look awful,” you scoffed as you leaned over, resting against the back of the couch.

His eyes fluttered open, head tilting back to look up at you. “I’m dying,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. You sighed, reaching down to feel his clammy skin. “You’re a little warm,” you said softly. “You want me to put a wet towel on your forehead?” you asked. He nodded weakly and you stood up straight, walking down the hall to the linen closet, grabbing a washcloth and walking back to the kitchen, turning on the cold water tap.

Once coating the cloth and wringing out most of the liquid, you returned to the couch, folding the cloth in half before setting it on Jihoon’s forehead. He let out a sigh of relief, eyes shut as he basked in the cool feeling of the wet cloth against his skin. “Have you tried taking a cold shower?” you asked, leaning against the couch again. Jihoon nodded. “Yeah,” he answered. “Twice!”

You clicked your tongue, reaching down to brush his dark hair back. “I need an ice bath,” he murmured as you stroked his hair. “If you had said something, I would have gotten a bag of ice from the convenience store on the corner.” You perked up, standing suddenly. “Speaking of…”

You walked over to the black plastic bag and pulled out two boxes of Melona, moving to the freezer to put both boxes away. You tore open one, grabbing a popsicle and shut the door before returning to the couch. “Here,” you said, holding the frozen treat out for Jihoon. His eyes opened halfway and he reached out for the popsicle. “You’re an angel,” he murmured as he gave you a weak smile.

“Have I ever told you that?” he asked. You shook your head, resisting the urge to smirk. “Well,” he said, tearing open the wrapper. “You are.” He opened his mouth, placing the frozen melon treat on his tongue, humming contentedly. “I’m gonna go shower,” you announced. “Did you take my fan, too?” you asked, glancing at the fans in front of him. He shook his head.

“No,” he replied, removing the popsicle from his mouth, licking his lips. “I left yours alone.” You patted his head before heading down the hall to your room, pushing open the door to find like he said, your fan was sitting in its usual place. You shut the door, moving to your bathroom to strip and get into the shower. You turned on the stream, stepping under it before it even heated up, enjoying the cold water against your hot skin.

You rushed through your shower, keeping the water warm enough to wash yourself but not scalding like you normally liked it. Once finished, you stepped out, drying off and pulling on clean clothes. A pair of shorts and a lightweight tank top. You headed back into the living room to find Jihoon hadn’t moved an inch. His popsicle had been consumed and he was breathing slowly as he basked in the fan generated winds.

You shook your head, moving to get a bowl from the cabinet. Jihoon perked up as you moved about the kitchen, peeking up over the back of the couch as you moved to the sink. You turned on the faucet, filling the bowl halfway before turning it off and heading to the fridge, opening the freezer and scooping some of the ice out into the bowl. 

You started back towards your room and noticed him peering at you over the back of the sofa. “You good?” you asked, raising a brow. He shook his head. “What’s that?” he asked, lifting his head more to see the bowl in your hands. “It’s an old trick,” you replied. “I’ll show you,” you added as you started for your room, stopping to look back at him.

“Bring the fans.”

Jihoon followed you, carrying the two tower fans with him to your room. You set up a stool from your vanity with the bowl on it near the bed before setting the fans up behind it, facing the fans towards the bowel and turning them on high. “Lay down.” you instructed. Jihoon climbed onto your bed, laying across it. You joined him and smiled as he sighed.

“The fan blows across the cool air that settles on the surface of the ice water and blows it out. It’s something we used to do when I was a kid. We didn’t have AC when I was growing up,” you explained. “It’s really nice,” he murmured.

The two of you lay there in silence, eyes shut as you enjoyed the cool air. Jihoon soon started to squirm and you opened your eyes, turning your head to look at him. “What’s wrong?” you asked. He sighed and turned to look at you. “It’s nice, don’t get me wrong,” he said softly. “But it’s not enough.”

You glanced at the bowl of ice and then back to Jihoon before an idea popped into your head. “Wait here,” you said as you got up, walking into your bathroom and returning with a towel. Jihoon watched as you placed the towel down on your bed. “Lay on the towel,” you instructed. He got up with a groan and started to move as you walked around to where the bowl of ice sat. 

“And take your shirt off.”

Jihoon froze, turning his gaze to look at you as you pulled the stool closer to the bed. “Take my shirt off?” he asked, watching you with wide eyes. You nodded. “Trust me,” you said as you sat on the edge of the bed, the stool with the bowl of ice between your thighs. Jihoon hesitated before slipping his shirt off and setting it aside. “Lay down,” you told him. He did as you said, laying on his back.

You dipped your hand into the bowl, scooping up one of the ice cubes and turned to Jihoon, placing it against his skin. He let out a gasp which turned quickly into a sigh. “Feel better?” you asked. He nodded wordlessly, licking his lips as you started to run the ice all over his chest, first across his collar bones and then down his sternum to his stomach.

You could see the beads of water rolling down his skin to the towel under him. The ice cube melted pretty quickly and you soon grabbed another, sliding it over his skin, up to his neck, letting it pool slightly before running it along his shoulders until it too melted. You continued this, going through a few ice cubes. “How do you feel?” you asked as you grabbed a smaller cube, popping it into your mouth.

“G-good,” Jihoon said, swallowing thickly. As you grabbed another ice cube, you noticed the slight bulge in his pants. Raising a brow, you turned back to look at his face. “Someone’s getting a little excited,” you said with a hint of amusement. Jihoon’s eyes opened and he glanced down, quickly covering himself with his hands. “S-sorry,” he muttered.

You smiled slyly. “Don’t be,” you said simply as you brushed another frozen cube over his skin, paying special attention to his chest, dragging the ice around one nipple before moving to the other. He let out a soft groan, eyes fluttering shut as you continued to tease him with the frozen water. “Y/N,” he moaned softly as you pressed the ice against his skin, placing your palm over it and sliding it around, drops of water rolling down his skin as you guided your hand lower and lower until the ice was gone.

You grabbed another cub, pressing against his stomach with your hand, sliding lower and lower until your fingers worked under the waistband of his shorts. Jihoon’s eyes snapped open and he met your gaze. “Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly. He shook his head, holding your gaze.

Without taking your eyes off him, you slipped your hand into his shorts, finding him completely without underwear as you guided the ice down his groin. Jihoon let out a groan as your hand pushed the ice down to his cock, finding it already completely hard. “S-sorry about this,” Jihoon whispered as you let the ice melt at the base of his cock. “Don’t apologize,” you said as you grabbed another ice cube with your free hand, popping it into your mouth again.

You pulled your hand out, sticking your hand into the ice water for a few seconds before pulling it out and slipped your hand back into his shorts, your cold hand wrapping around the shaft of his cock. Jihoon groaned, hips bucking slightly. “What?” you asked, sounding slightly condescending. “Does that feel good?” you cooed. Jihoon nodded, biting into his bottom lip as your hand started to stroke him slowly.

You grabbed another ice cube, popping it into your mouth and climbed onto the bed, moving to kneel beside him. “What’re you doing?” Jihoon asked as you grabbed the waistband of his shorts and tugged them down. This was crossing so many lines but at this point, neither you nor Jihoon could be bothered to care. He lifted his hips as you tugged his shorts down, freeing his cock.

You wrapped your hands around him again. You glanced up at him before taking his cock into your mouth. The ice had melted already but your tongue had a lingering coolness to it and it made Jihoon groan as his head fell back, your head sinking down as you took more and more of his cock into your mouth. “Fuck, baby,” he gasped, his hand resting on the back of your head.

“Feels so good.”

You pulled back, letting his cock fall from your mouth. You moved to grab another ice cube, popping it into your mouth under your tongue before taking Jihoons cock back into your mouth. He let out a guttural moan as your head bobbed, your cold spit dribbling down his shaft. “F-ah. Holy shit!” he groaned as your tongue shifted, the ice under it slipping out and pressing against his cock.

Jihoon bucked his hips, thrusting up into your mouth and hitting the back of your mouth. “Don’t stop, god please don’t stop,” he groaned as you pulled off him, grabbing another ice cube before taking him back into your mouth. You slid the ice over his abdomen, enjoying the way his muscles twitched. You glided the ice down past his cock, pressing it to the base of the underside of his cock, beads of cold water rolling down past his balls.

He bucked again, his cock making you gagged but you made no attempt to move back instead letting him set a steady pace, thrusting shallowly into your mouth while you let the ice trail over his skin. “F-fucking hell. M’gonna cum if you keep doing that!” he gasped. You pulled back, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock as you let the ice finish melting.

“You wanna cum in my mouth or inside me?” you asked, your voice low and seductive. “Inside you, please,” he begged, his hand moving to the back of your neck. “C’mere,” he added as he pulled you towards him. You crawled over him, letting your tongue run up his stomach and chest before he pulled you into a sloppy kiss.

You pulled back, tugging your shirt off over your head and then shimmying out of your shorts and underwear. You grabbed two more ice cubes, popping one into your mouth as you straddled his lap. Jihoon grabbed his cock, lining it up with your slit as you hovered over him. “Wait shouldn’t I — oh fuck!” he gasped as you lowered yourself down onto his cock, sinking it into your cunt.

Once his cock was nestled inside your walls, you pressed the other ice cube against his chest. His hands moved to your hips, eyes rolling back as you started to move slowly, rolling your hips as you glided the ice over his skin. “Oh fuck that feels so good,” he groaned, hips bucking slightly as you rode him at your own pace.

You leaned over to grab another cube, popping it into your mouth and letting it melt on your tongue. Once it was gone, you leaned over, hips continued to roll as you grinded against Jihoon. His cock throbbed and twitched inside you as he matched your movements, thrusting up into you.

“Open your mouth,” you whispered, grabbing him by the jaw. He hesitated before obliging, parting his lips. You surprised him by spitting into his mouth quickly before kissing him roughly. It was much different than he was used to but with all the ice cubes you had let melt into your mouth, he would let you do anything if it meant you’d keep using the ice cubes.

His grip on your hips tightened, nails digging into your skin. “M’close,” he groaned against your lips. You grabbed another cube from the bowl, most of it water by this point. “Open your mouth,” you whispered, pushing the cube past his lips when he parted them. Your lips met his, tongue slipping into his mouth, making the ice cube swirl around his mouth.

You change the roll of your hips for lifting them, bouncing on his cock and driving you both towards the edge. “M’gonna cum,” he groaned against your lips. “Do it,” you urged. “Cum inside me.” Jihoon devolved into a series of curses, moans, and whimpers as he chased his high, hips rutting up to meet yours as he tumbled over the edge, his cum releasing into your walls until it started to spill out of you.

Your walls spasmed around him as you came, moaning against his lips as your hips started to falter. Jihoon held you in place as he thrusted up into you, riding out both your highs until he finally stilled, letting you sink down on his spent cock, his cum dripping out of your abused hole.

You let out a sigh, collapsing onto his chest as you tried to steady your breathing. Jihoon’s hand rested on your back, fingers trailing up and down your spine as he stared up at the ceiling. “That was…” you trailed off, searching for the right word. “Incredible,” Jihoon finished your sentence. “That was fucking incredible.”

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze, a smile spread across your face before you both broke into laughter. Your laughter lasted a few minutes as the reality of your situation settled on you.

“So,” Jihoon said, moving a hand to the back of your neck. “Where does this leave us?” he asked. You shrugged. “Where do you want it to leave us?” you responded with your own question. Jihoon’s other hand moved to cup your cheek, eyes dipping to your lips as he brushed over them with his thumb. “I kind of want to make this a regular thing,” he muttered. “Especially if we include the ice.”

You pressed a chaste kiss to the bad of his thumb. “Well,” you replied, pushing his hand back and leaning in to kiss his lips. “The AC won’t be fixed until tomorrow,” you reminded him as you reached up to brush his hair back off his forehead. “So we have the rest of the day.” 

A smile spread across Jihoon’s face. “You want to go again?” he asked. You nodded as you pushed yourself up. “Can you grab a new towel?” you asked as you climbed off him and off the bed entirely. “Where are you going?” he asked as he sat up, watching you grab the bowl from the stool. You turned to look at him as you moved towards the door.

“We need more ice.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[fatuismooches]

Dottore's unofficial fan club is working on their next biggest accomplishment - fanfiction of him and his lover.

The rumors and whispers of what Il Dottore and his segments got up to in their labs were some of the most spoken-about (and overused) pieces of gossip that new recruits found themselves petrified by. What do you mean he did this? And that?! Oh, the horror!

However, wherever these kinds of words happened to be spoken, a loyalist of the Harbinger was bound to pop out somewhere and vehemently refute any such statements with their heart, soul, and mind. Although such people seemed crazy at first, quite a few of them existed, much more than what anyone who had any surface level of the scholar would guess. After all, how else could they write over a hundred-page handbook of their Harbinger? Their dedication to their craft could possibly rival Dottore himself!

Their Lord Dottore had so many things to admire, so many traits spread across his various segments. They could only worship from afar, but also, they had another person to appreciate - none other than the only person who he held fondness for, his utmost beloved - you. It was a critical point in the fanclub, seeing how sweetly their Harbinger treated you, and how you kept him on his toes. Well, now they could add "loving partner" to the list of things they loved about him! What joy!

As such, today they had gathered to continue working on the next installment in their writing, more specifically - "Dottore x [Name] - Valentine's Day Oneshot" (the title had yet to be determined). With serious expressions and pen and paper in hand, they had begun their work.

"Do you think that the Lord Harbinger would be interested in such a day in the first place?"

"Well, considering my Lord let [Name] put mistletoes and wreaths during the holidays on the lab doors, I don't think he would be completely opposed to the idea." A chorus of agreement from the others sounded in response.

"Alright, alright, listen to what I have so far!"

—

["Oh Dottore!~"

The man could hear the cheery and excited voice all the way down the hallway before the person even entered the room. Of course, there was only one possible person this voice could belong to, only one person could have the gall to act like that toward him. Nearly bursting through the door, they spoke once more.

"Are you ready?!" A wide smile stretched onto their lovely face, save for some small pants. Dottore, with his back turned, could safely hide a small smile, despite his seemingly unbothered hums.

"Not a moment too early or late. Exactly on time," he mused, listening to [Name]'s skipping footsteps approach from behind him, fully expecting the warm arms wrapped around him.

"Well, I definitely don't think you forgot either. But I think you're just excited to eat some of my sweets again." [Name]'s face nuzzled into his back as they giggled, tilting their head to peer at his calendar. It was filled in with a work-related thing listed nearly every day, but more importantly, the fourteenth had a time slot set specifically aside for something unnamed. The only person who could ever guess correctly would be Dottore himself and his beloved of course.

"Perhaps I am. What then?" Dottore turned around to face [Name] properly, their face now snug into his chest as they looked up with shining eyes, his hand stroking the top of their head.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to take all the chocolates before you, Dottore!"]

—

"Wait wait wait, don't you think [Name] would refer to Lord Dottore in a more affectionate manner in private?"

"I did think of that, but I wasn't sure what else to use..."

"Alright, try this then."

—

["Well, I guess I'll just have to eat them all before you," [Name] teased him, his real name flowing from their lips freely, making the Harbinger catch them in a kiss.]

—

"Oh yes, that's perfect!" The agent squealed, delighted at how the ship was sailing. "Okay, let me skip ahead a bit!"

—

[The couple had found themselves in the kitchen, utensils and ingredients surrounding them. The two were a capable duo that got along with ease, their minds seemingly in sync with each other. Soon enough, the cookies had been finished and left to cool on the counter. The plain yet sugary cookies looked scrumptious, and were it not for his lover's insistence to decorate them, Dottore would have already finished his share.

Not wanting his beloved to get too tired, he hoisted them onto the table to rest their legs and stretch a bit. With a smile, [Name] took his hand and pulled him closer, not even flinching at how dangerously close the beak of Dottore's mask got to their face (they had become accustomed to the peck of it by now.)

They placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, letting out soft giggles when he returned the favor. The scholar's hands wandered down from their shoulders to rest on their thighs, squeezing them.

"Why don't you focus on the other sweet treat, hmm?" They teased him by suddenly pressing a finger full of icing to his nose, to which he scoffed and pulled back at the cool sensation. Wiping it off, instead of tasting it, Dottore smeared it near his partner's mouth.

"Hey! You're not-" Their protest was quickly quieted when Dottore pressed his lips against theirs, licking up the delicious frosting as well.

And so, [Name] and Dottore had a lovely Valentine's Day.]

—

"Archons, that was a great story!" The others nodded resolutely in concurrence.

"I wonder how my Lord will actually spend it with [Name]..."

—

Meanwhile, back in reality some interesting things were happening.

Firstly, you had indeed invited Dottore to bake with you, but numerous things had gone wrong (as you had expected to be honest.)

The two most notable are when you both ended up caked in flour (instead of icing) and when you had turned your back to your beloved for only a bit, and he later presented you with his cookie.

"Y-Your cooking will put me in my grave," you coughed again, "quicker than a-any illness would." There was no romance to be found here. It was dead. Even his absolutely precise measurements couldn't save him.

Ah, and of course you couldn't forget the segments' arguing that happened yearly on who received the best box of cookies. You had to yell at them as they became pouty.

It was a chaotic Valentine's Day.

—

When you conveyed this one day to a few curious agents, they looked unusually stunned.

"So... Lord Dottore cannot cook?"

"Lord Dottore is banned from the kitchen unless he has your explicit permission?"

"The Lord Harbinger isn't suave?"

"O-Our fanfiction is... i-inaccurate?!"

"Oh, the horror!"

"Fanfiction...?" You were a bit confused but you tried to alleviate their worries.

"W-well, I'm not sure why you'd be so worried about this... but you can rest assured that Dottore and I had a sweet Valentine's Day. He did help me bake cookies when I watched his every move! Naturally, he also made sure I didn't get hurt. Even when we got splattered with flour, I threw some more at him for good measure, and you know what, he got back at me too!" You laughed, remembering how he too could be playful.

"And I gave sweets to all the segments too and they were quite happy, even if they can be stupid and silly sometimes! They're all so smart, but sometimes they're complete idiots. That's just how they are, and I love it. "

"Besides, the more Dottore messes up, the more time I get to spend with him. It's silly, but I actually like it. But don't tell him that. He'll figure out my evil plans," you joked, not yet aware of the tears bubbling in the agents' eyes at your and Dottore's heart-throbbing and passionate love story.

If there was one thing that the agents got right, it was the love you and Dottore had for each other - imperfect - yet you wouldn't have it any other way.

[leggerefiore]

cw: angst, continuing story

pairings: Dark Cacao/Reader, Longan/Reader

continuation of this

The streets of the Hollyberry Kingdom were always full of life and action. Endless vendors lined the streets while brightly and beautifully dressed folk ventured to and fro. It was a kingdom that reflected its founder's best trait – passion. Sweet scents and warm sun made the place as lively as it could be. Calm ocean and beautiful foliage gave the scenery an enchanting and welcoming feeling…

Dark Cacao had never been a fan.

The king was not one for travel. His work was endless. The monsters of the Licorice Sea would never cease. But… His breath hitched at the recent memories. Wounds were still bandaged, yet there was no time to waste. His beloved's sacrifice for him and their kingdom… Dark Cacao would sooner die than let that go to waste. His group followed him closely. Crunchy Chip, on guard, but clearly fascinated by the city as they walked. Other watchers had joined them – wanting to rescue their monarch. A hooded man had joined them – identity hidden. Dark Cacao knew, however. A scarred eye and a face he could never forget. The face of his own son. Dark Choco had barely healed from his more grievous injuries, but he had insisted on his accompaniment.

The palace was found. Guards stood on edge, but a loud voice dismissed them. A woman stood with a bright smile on her face and her hands on her hips. Though, when she got a better glance at the situation, she shifted a bit. Hollyberry. Dark Cacao felt desperate as he approached his old friend. Her guard found himself wandering off towards Crunchy Chip, while the king sought a more private area for discussion.

“… My friend,” her voice was oddly gentle, “What's wrong?”

“My spouse has been taken,” he replied, listless from it all. The attack on his kingdom – the horror of those petrified into stone. The dragon demanding you. Why you? His heart ached. Hollyberry blinked but leaned in.

“How…?” she asked.

Dark Cacao regaled her with the tale. The seemingly never-ending battle with the dragon who desired his spouse. Their claims of you being their mate, and how vicious they were about retrieving you. The sacrifice you had made. Everything spilled from his lips. The red-haired woman was stricken into silence. Then… it turned into rage on his behalf.

“How awful,” Hollyberry simply said, “... Dragons can be pests, can't they…” Her eyes closed as she appeared to think. Dark Cacao remained silent. His heart raced within his chest. It still was beyond comprehension why any of this had happened. He had known you for so long. Your past was shared openly, as he did his own. A breath hitched in his throat. The fellow hero noticed his mood shift. “Hey, now,” her hand came to rest on his shoulder as best it could with the armour, “I already have an idea. Chin up.”

It took little time for the seasoned adventurer to pack her bags and gather armour before declaring her departure. Her personal guard insisted on coming, despite how much she tried to sway him. Dark Cacao ended the back and forth by stating any extra hands would be appreciated. The party left the bright and warm walls of the kingdom for the jungle nearby. Hollyberry led the way with a certain confidence. Crunchy Chip and Wildberry took to walking side by side.

The trees reigned high, towering above the group. Monsters steered clear, seemingly realising the foolishness of attacking such a large group. The grasses around grew wild, while various berries could be spotted about in bushes and trees. Dark Cacao took in a breath. His son had come to walk at his side. They had barely spoken more than what was necessary. A simple explanation of what had occurred and the demand to accompany the king was all that had been said.

His son… Dark Cacao had already long forgiven the boy in his heart. The very son he had raised… He had blamed him so long for being tempted by power, but it took his return and second attempt on his life for him to realise his mistakes. He had failed his son. Your adoration for the boy and sadness following his banishment… It made him glance at Dark Choco. You had dreamt of the day you three would stand together as a family once more. To have you taken when it had come so close to fruition…

The group suddenly came to a stop. Deep within the jungle, the trees towered above, and the group stood within the shaded ground. A roar echoed out. Dark Cacao instinctually went for his blade, as did Dark Choco. Hollyberry had lifted her shield. Out of the darkness before them ran forth a beast like no other. A dragon. It rammed into the shield of Hollyberry, who stood entirely on guard. They fixated on one another, falling into a seemingly ceaseless battle. Wildberry watched in a distant boredom. Crunchy Chip stood in shock. Dark Choco could only blink.

Eventually, the conflict came to a close.

Hollyberry stood across from the dragon, who shifted forms. Loud panting came from them. “Pitaya,” she called out, “I have a favour to ask.” Dark Cacao tensed up. Was this her plan…? Certainly not. This must have just been warm up for their battle against the other dragon.

“What isss it?” they responded.

“… My friend has come across another dragon,” she explained, “And that dragon took his spouse under the claims that they were their mate.” This Pitaya stood confused. Then turned to the group.

“Ssso… Who sssaw the dragon?” they asked. Dark Cacao walked forward. The dragon seemed to be sizing him up. Hollyberry put a stop to that by tugging the dragon's long strands. It hissed and turned to glare at her, but nothing further came.

“I was who faced the dragon,” the king spoke, “It was a fearsome foe… A single glare was enough to petrify my people into statues.” Pitaya tensed up at his words. The dragon's expression turned from a certain smugness into something more distressing. They blinked a few times.

“… A glare, you sssay...” their voice was low, contained, “They took your mate, then?” Dark Cacao was not a fan of the wording but nodded nonetheless. A few more inquiries were made into what the other dragon looked like before Pitaya seemed entirely uncertain. “What isss your mate'sss name?” they asked. Dark Cacao responded with ease. The dragon's eyes shot wide. Hollyberry was confused by their reaction, as everyone else was.

Then, they shook their head and shrugged. “Bessst to cut your lossesss now,” Pitaya simply said, “Your mate wasss already long bonded with Longan. I sssuppossse they jussst grew tired of waiting for them to wake up.” Dark Cacao stood on offence. They were far older than you were! Dark Choco seemed as confused as they were, having spoken with those who had grown up with you.

Before Dark Cacao could verbally assault the dragon's claims, Hollyberry stepped in. “That's not really possible,” she cleared up, “His spouse isn't like… us. They are not immortal.” Pitaya cocked a brow.

“… Ssso thossse rumoursss were true, huh,” they spoke to themself more than the group, “Ssstill, I hate to sssay thisss, but a dragon'sss claim isss final.” Dark Cacao felt frustration boiling inside him. How could this beast make such a claim?! But he was above trivial combat. Attacking the beast with his injuries was unwise. Dark Choco even placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I take it you won't help us then,” Hollyberry inquired. Pitaya scoffed.

“No, I will,” they flashed a grin that was all teeth, “I ssstill want to beat Longan.”

It seemed the dragon was their ally after all. Somehow.

~

You sat on the dragon's lap as they kept their eyes closed. It appeared that they were sleeping, but you were far from foolish enough to pull away from them. They held you far too tightly, anyway. Your gaze drifted to the fish that swam in the waters of their throne room. The waterfall provided a calming ambience. Nothing out of place occurred in the palace.

It was a far more idyllic life than the one you had been leading in the citadel, but… You missed your people dearly. Your husband's face had fluttered in your mind at random. He must have been so worried. Dark Choco, too… Seeing the boy well and attempting to protect you. Your heart ached. But, there was no feasible way to leave this palace. Ocean surrounded it. The swim would kill you in order to return to the islands.

Longan… Their affection was clearly genuine. They seemed not to treat anyone was carefully as they treated you. This current form of yourself was a curse in their eyes – one to amend. Apparently, you were some grand dragon who once ruled over these lands at their side. But, no longer. They had slumbered under the sea and awoke to you as you were. Your memories were false, they claimed. All you needed to do was recall your true nature, and all the mortals you foolishly cared for would be forgotten.

The bite mark they had inflicted onto your nape stung. It was a clear sign of your place as their mate. Leaning your head against their shoulder, your mind wandered.

If this was the only way to keep your kingdom safe, you supposed there were worse fates.

Still, you hoped to be saved.

[wombywoo]

Hello!!

I wanted to ask if you would be willing to share how you go about finding the references for the injuries you depict in your work? Your pieces where the CoD boys are sporting injuries, fresh and old, are always so lifelike and to my untrained eye seem entirely medically correct.

I have been trying my hand at drawing the boys retired and resting as well, but I’m finding it difficult to decide what work injuries to add and how to find the respective references.

How do you decide what injuries to portray? And how do you go about finding the reference material?

Your huge fan, amustikas

Oooh ok ok! I'm gonna post my answer publically because I think others would find this interesting too!

To preface, I am definitely NOT a medical professional, and as such, a lot of the stuff I choose to depict in my art is not so much..ah, medically accurate as it is....aesthetically pleasing 🤭

I'll start with scars, as a lot of us enjoy slashing up Simon's face with them, lol. Generally, I'll do a cursory google image search for the type of scar I'm looking for (be warned, these can be graphic) with searches like 'burn scar' 'surgery scar' etc. But I find that for things like cuts and lacerations, real-life scars are a bit innocuous and lame 🤷‍♀️ Unfortunately not everyone's skin wants to retain that perfect slash look™️😔

So what I usually end up referencing are costume prosthetic scars ✨

As you can see, they're pretty gnarly:

And you definitely don't have to go this intense, but I find that the dramatic, carved-like appearance of these translate better to art than a realistically healed wound 🤙

The other thing to consider is the prevalence of injuries in the military. From what I've gathered, the most common will be back/shoulder/limb injuries, just a general fucking up of the whole musculoskeletal system in general due to constant overuse 🤕 Hearing loss, shrapnel/blast/burn injuries are also common, as well as all the negative psychological effects :') goooood times (not)

I think it's neat to look up real-life examples of these things, but it can get a bit intense if you're squeamish...

SafeSearch is OFF, the horrors are REal 😳

So yeah...I tend to tone things down, all things considered...😅

For this particular piece:

I researched broken humerus injuries and treatment 👍 Poor boy 🥺(Yes, I am aware that I consumed entire articles and did a shit ton of research about this just to go ahead and put a female's x-ray in this fucking picture sdfghjkl rip💀😭)

But here you can see the actual process for applying the brace for this particular injury:

Neat, eh?

When I draw Johnny with a knee brace, it's usually a real authentic one you can buy on amazon:

Product placement blast!!!💥✨ Bezos, where is my cut?? 🫰

As for ones like this:

I tend to just...scatter some wounds around and patch them up accordingly, lol. Bruising around the eyes is common with any head injury, and surgical stitching will offer a nice puckered skin effect mmm 👌 (I swear I'm normal abt this)

I'm sure the medical malpractice lawsuits are stacking up for me now, but again--it's usually more about the ✨visuals✨

My parting advice would be--go nuts! Feel free to maim and mutilate and mangle to your heart's content 🥰

Thank you for the question, Amustikas! I love your art as well 💗🫶

[jawsoffate]

Diabolically Yours | part VI (vessel!demon x reader)

Summary: Emma just wanted a simple magical boost to win a writing contest, not a snarky and handsome demon bound to her soul. But after summoning the wrong hellspawn, she ends up stuck with Vessel: a sarcastic, shirtless chaos entity who won’t stop flirting or stealing her snacks. Now they’re magically tethered, emotionally entangled, and dangerously close to something much scarier than a pact gone wrong... feelings.

TW: Contains supernatural shenanigans, mutual pining, steamy tension, and one annoyingly hot demon. Read with care (and maybe holy water on the finals part).

💖 masterlist

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI

Part VI: Caffeine and Date Invitations

The cold morning light filtered through the windows of room 304, where Emma was struggling to keep her eyes open while the professor talked about “narrative arcs and the construction of multidimensional characters.” Her firm, monotonous voice felt like the perfect soundtrack for an academic horror film—except no one actually died, just the will to pay attention.

“Remember,” the professor emphasized firmly, “complex characters experience internal conflicts that transform them. Without that, there’s no real story.”

Emma scribbled a quick note: “internal conflict = engine of the plot.” She tried to focus, but Vessel was already whispering quietly, just for her.

“Transformation... And here I am, still stuck in this ridiculous accidental summoning.”

She rolled her eyes subtly, keeping her gaze fixed on the professor.

When class ended, Isla stretched her arms and yawned.

“Finally!” she said.

Harper, already standing, looked at Emma.

“Coffee?” she asked. “My life depends on it.”

“You’re not alone,” Isla agreed, already grabbing Emma’s hand.

Emma sighed, following her friends down the hallway crowded with hurried students. Vessel floated just behind, visible only to her, as always.

“Another day, another meeting to discuss human emotions,” he muttered. “How inspiring.”

“Stop being such a grump,” Emma whispered, smiling.

When it was her turn at the counter, the curly-haired barista with a bright smile greeted her.

“Hey, Emma! The usual? Hibiscus tea with lemon, no sugar?”

She smiled shyly and said, “Not today. I’ll have a regular coffee and a little pastry.”

“Got it,” said the barista, looking at her face a bit longer than necessary. “By the way, you look especially beautiful today.”

Her friends paused for a moment, exchanging curious glances.

Emma swallowed hard, her face flushing slightly. She tried a discreet smile but couldn’t quite hide the blush.

Vessel, who had sat in the empty chair beside her, crossed his arms and let out an exaggerated sigh, whispering just loud enough for Emma to hear:

“‘Especially beautiful’? Ugh. The creativity of a bargain shoe store salesman.”

She laughed quietly, rolling her eyes at the barista, who was already walking away, smiling faintly, maybe shy after saying too much.

Isla smiled and said, “Looks like you’ve got a fan, Emma.”

As they sat down at a table, Emma tried to focus on the conversation. Harper was talking excitedly about a documentary she’d watched, and Isla was commenting on a new series.

Suddenly, the barista appeared at the table, carrying their orders.

“Here you go,” he said, carefully handing out the drinks and muffin.

When he got to Emma, he hesitated for a second, as if gathering courage.

“Emma...” he began, looking into her eyes with adorable shyness. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Maybe dinner, or a walk in the park. Whatever you’d prefer.”

Emma’s face grew warm, and she looked at her friends, who exchanged surprised glances.

Before she could answer, Vessel whispered:

“Don’t you dare.”

Emma bit her lip, trying to ignore him. Vessel continued:

“Don’t put me through this torture, Emma.”

Emma finally found her voice.

“I... I’d love to,” she replied, still with a shy smile. “But I need to organize a few things first. Can we plan something later?”

The barista smiled, relieved.

“Of course! Whenever you’re ready.”

Harper looked at Emma with a mischievous grin.

“So, we’re definitely helping you pick what to wear, right? No going out in just anything.”

Isla laughed, nodding.

“Exactly. If he asked you out, we’ve got to make sure you’re dressed for the occasion.”

“We could do a little outfit try-on day. Like, experiment with different combos and see what works best,” Harper added.

Emma smiled, still a bit shy, but warming to the idea.

“I’d love that,” she joked.

Vessel tilted his head back and muttered:

“This is a bloody nightmare.”

[schoolspiritsfan14]

The Lucky One

Milo Manheim x fem reader.

A/N: this was actually I dream that I had about Milo Manheim (yes, I am that fan girl that has dreams about their celeb crushes and then eventually they fall in love with you) and got the idea to make it into a story and I’ll add some other details to make it into a story, but it’s based on my dream. I’ll replace my name with Y/N so you all can live out my dream LOL. Also, I’m Australian so it will be based on you being Australian for the story, so G’Day Mate! 

Warnings: mentions of gambling, reader says joke ‘going to find a hole and die’, swearing.

Summary: you win the lottery, so you and your two friends fly to New York, the start of the ultimate girls trip. You then meet Milo Manheim and leave quite the impression on him. 

You were at the mall with your friends when you passed the newsagency (a store where you can get the newspaper, magazines, the lottery etc.) with big posters advertising the big 3-million-dollar lottery that caught your attention. 

“How insane would it be if I won this?” You asked your friends -Alison and Isabella- pointing at the posters. 

“It would be amazing. Since when did you care about the lottery Y/N?” Isabella frowned, a puzzled look across her face. 

“Not normally.” You replied. “Just thought it would be fun for once to get a ticket or two. I mean how else would I be able to go to my dream holiday destination.”

“I’m down to get a couple,” Alison added. 

Ever since you were a little girl, you have dreamed of travelling to New York City. Seeing the city in movies and tv shows you were captivated, and you wished that one day you would be able to afford to go. 

“Let’s get some tickets and if we lose, it’s just a couple of bucks and it will be fun.” You exclaim pulling out your phone to check your bank app. 

“Fuck it. Let’s do it.” Isabella says.

Five minutes later between the three of you, you had thirty tickets. “Now we just have to wait until Thursday night to see if we won.” You stated putting your tickets in your purse. 

The rest of the week flew by and before you knew it, it was Thursday night. You, Alison, and Isabelle gathered the tickets they had, and you made your way over to your couch in your shared apartment and turned the TV on to wait for the announcement.

The TV glared with the sound of the lottery balls moving around the machine as the announcer begins reading of the numbers. Alison quickly copied down the numbers before it finished to give you all time to found out which ticket could possibly be the winner. 

Looking over your tickets you had no luck, you were at the last one and quickly scanned over the ticket not expecting much. You look at the ticket and look at the numbers Alison scribbled down. “7 19 26 33 57 3 14” your eyes opened with shook. 

Alison and Isabella study your face, curiosity filling them. “What Y/N.?” they ask in unison.

“I think I won.” You whisper still looking at the ticket in your hand.

“WHAT?!” they scream again in unison.

Alison grabs the ticket from your hand and looks at the paper she wrote the numbers on. “Fuck, you won Y/N!”

“Holy shit, I just won the lottery!” You scream as Isabella and Alice grab your arms and begin jumping up and down. 

“Pack your bags babes, we are heading to New York City.” You squeal still in shock.

“Ooooo you can go see your celeb crush, Milo Manheim in Little Shop of Horrors!” Isabella teased, mocking you. 

“Tease me all you want Bella, we are seeing it, fuck it, we can see all the Broadway shows.” You laugh. 

Three days later, you Isabella and Alice were at the airport about to embark on your thirty-hour flight.

You get on the plane and head to first class; sure, your first flight was only two hours, but you had planned to be comfortable for the whole trip. 

Landing in Sydney after your flight you raced to your next gate for your next flight. You arrive at the first-class lounge in time and wait for the flight to begin boarding. 

You, Alison, and Isabella board the plane and you grab out your phone to inform your parents that you are on your long flight and will be offline for a bit. You then grab the headphones and place them on your head, picking a movie to watch and adjusting your seat to get comfortable. 

Twenty-eight hours later, you were finally in New York. You look out the plane window as it approaches the ground, and you can see the skyline of New York outside your window. You quickly grab your phone out and snap a photo of the skyline as the sun rose. 

Thirty minutes later and you, Alison and Isabella were waiting for your uber to arrive to pick you up to get to the hotel. 

“I can’t believe I’m finally here, it’s so surreal.” You say as you and the girls settle in to the uber.

“Excuse me, sir. Would it be really cliché if we were to ask you to play ‘Welcome to New York by Taylor Swift’?” Alison asks as the uber leaves the airport queue and begins driving. 

“You girls aren’t the first to ask that, it’s already in the queue that’s connected on my phone.” The uber driver replied. 

As soon as he said that the song began to play, filling the car. You, Isabella, and Alison begin singing the lyrics to the song and even the uber driver joined in. 

An hour later you were pulling up to your hotel, The Westin New York at Times Square. Getting out of the car and looking up at the big building standing in front of you as people walked along the sidewalk. 

“Holy shit.” Alison gulped taking in full view of the height of the building. 

“That’s the last of your bag’s girls, enjoy your time in New York” the uber driver said. You gave him a quick thank you and grabbed your phone out to give him a tip, and five stars.

You grabbed your luggage and head into the hotel to check in. Grabbing your room card at the receptionist desk you, Alison, and Isabella head to the elevators to the penthouse suite. As soon as the doors of the elevator fling open you are greeted with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the New York skyline. 

“Wow” you gasp as you enter the room. “That is a stunning view.”

“I’ll say.” Isabella adds as she as Alison enters the penthouse. 

You make your way up the stairs to the bedroom and begin to unpack your things. Looking at your stuff you realise you may have overpacked for a two-week trip. 

Heading back downstairs, Isabella is already at the bar making drinks. “Bella it’s 10 o’clock in the morning.” You exclaimed, walking to the bar. 

“Don’t judge and its mimosa, they are allowed this time of day.” She giggled finishing up her drink. 

“What should we do guys? I don’t know about you, but I slept great in the plane.” Alison said, grabbing an apple of the counter. 

“Ooo, I want to check out an American target! From all the Tik Toks I’ve seen, it looks way better than the Target back at home.” (Yes, the American target is way cooler than the target we have in Australia and yes, I do badly want to go to one) You beamed grabbing your phone to find the nearest store. “There’s one about ten minutes away.”

The rest of the day was spent shopping and exploring your surroundings before you decide to grab some dinner. 

“We have to try the ‘famous New York pizza’ it would be crime if we don’t.” Alison beamed, walking into the pizza shop. 

Grabbing some pizza, you find a seat in Central Park and look around taking in the sights. “I still can’t believe we are really here.” You expressed, your eyes wondering around you. 

“What are we doing tomorrow besides seeing Little Shop of Horrors?” Alison asked before taking another bite of her pizza.

“I was thinking doing the touristy things, like catch a ferry to the statue of liberty and walk around Times Square.” You replied finishing of your slice of pizza. 

“Admit it Y/N you don’t really care about that stuff yet, all you can think about is meeting Milo tomorrow.” Isabella teased you once again.

“Okay fine, you got me. I really only care about that, at the moment but after tomorrow I swear, I’ll be 100% invested in the rest of the trip.” You mumble taking a sip from your bottle.

Alison and Isabella look at each other and laugh. “Hun, we know you. You still be talking about it the rest of the trip.” Alison teased.

“Well, you shouldn’t be so surprised then.” You giggle. “I know I’m the fan amongst us but trust me when you see this show tomorrow you will become hard core fans just like me.” 

It was the next morning as the sun peered through the curtains that you forgot to close all the way. Looking over to your phone it was already 12pm, jet lag must have hit you hard. Stumbling out of bed and into the kitchen you notice you are the last one up. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up? We’re in New York, no time for sleeping in.” you whined pouring yourself a cup of coffee. 

“Y/N we have been living together for three years, we know better than to wake you up.” Isabella laughs taking a seat on the seat near the island bench. 

“Okay that maybe true, but we only have thirteen days left here, I want to make the most of it.” you huffed taking a sip of your coffee. 

“And we will. We figured now that its later in the day, that we just stay here and get organised for tonight.” Alison said taking a seat next to Isabella. 

After coffee and some lunch, you head upstairs have a shower, and look through your clothes for an outfit for tonight. You start doing your makeup and realise you forgot to pack foundation. You quickly grab your phone and open the group chat. 

The iconic trio

Y/N: I forgot to pack foundation FML

Alison: Girl how? That’s the first step in your makeup routine!

Isabella: It’s okay I forgot some things too.

Y/N: I saw a Sephora yesterday we could go there quickly?

Alison: I’ll finish getting changed, met you girls downstairs.

Isabella: Sounds good.

You and the girls head to Sephora and you quickly grab what you need and a little more than you actually needed before heading back to the hotel. It was already 5:30 and the show begins at 7pm so you needed to hurry. The girls got room service for dinner as you quickly finished applying your makeup before heading out the door to head to the Westside Theatre. 

As you expected there was a huge crowd and being in New York you should be used to it by now, but you’re not. Alison notices your tense in the crowd of people, and she takes your hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Stop stressing Hun, you got this.” She whispers in your ear as you make your way through the crowd. You quickly whisper a “thank you” as you approach the doors, showing your phone with the tickets on the screen. 

You, Isabella, and Alison find your seats in the front row and you quicky take out your phone to take a photo of the stage and a couple of selfies before the curtain lifted up for the show to begin. 

Isabella nudges your side when Milo enters on the stage. At this point you are internally screaming being so close to the stage and to him. His co-star Liz Gilles takes to the stage as well, making you also internally scream since you have loved her in Victorious.

Throughout the first act, you notice that Milo has been making a lot of eye contact with you. Butterflies swarm in your stomach but you brush it off thinking that you are sitting in the seat he always looks at to ground himself on stage. 

Throughout the whole show you and your friends laughed a lot, you even laughed so hard tears streamed down your face. As the show wrapped up, you stood up clapping for the cast as they bowed and walked off the stage. Milo came towards the front of the stage and quickly gave high fives to people in the front row. He stopped and you and him quickly embrace in a hug (it was in this moment I the author is screaming haha) before heading backstage. 

“Did I just hug him?” You turn to Alison and Isabella in shook. 

“Yeah babes, I even took a photo of you.” Alison says showing you, her phone.

“Fuck so I didn’t dream it, you guys saw it too.” You mumble, slightly slurring your words.

“Okay, I knew you would be bad but not this bad.” Isabella laughs turning to the aisle to exit the building. 

“I really enjoyed the show. Milo, Liz, and the whole cast were phenomenal.” Alison gushes walking out onto the sidewalk. 

“I loved it more than I thought I would.” Isabella chimed in putting on her jacket in the crisp night. “I thought its spring in America right now, why the fuck is it so cold?” she mumbles.

“Y/N you haven’t said anything I a bit, you good girl?” Alison asks. 

“Uh yeah. I’m good.” You utter, taking out your phone looking through the photos. 

“She’s properly still reeling that she got to hug her celeb crush.” Isabella giggles bumping into you. 

Before you could respond the stage door opened. Milo and Liz waved to the crowd of screaming fans and make their way down the line of fans waiting for their autograph. 

Before long, Liz Gillies was in front of you. You hand her your Playbill for her to sign and you tell how incredible she was before taking a quick selfie. 

Then Milo appeared in front of you. “Oh, hey it’s you. You have a great laugh.” He says handing back the Playbill of the girl next to you.

“That’s a first someone saying my laugh is great, I normally get hyena or something. You reply handing him your playbill. He laughs and you quickly take a selfie. 

“I loved your work in School Spirits, I can’t wait for the next season!” You gushed.

“Thank you. Sorry you had to see my butt.” He scoffs with a light laugh.

Without thinking you say, “It’s all good, it was a great butt.” Your brain finally caught with your mouth as your eyes widen. 

“What?” he asks still signing playbills and other things. 

“I’m gonna go crawl into a hole and die now, bye” you muttered. You quickly spun around, grabbed Isabella and Alison by the arm and begin speed walking away. 

“Did I really just fucking tell him he has a great butt?” you grumbled, still speed walking away from the crowd of people.

“Uh yeah you did.” Alison says trying to slow you down.

“Great, now he thinks I’m a fucking weirdo thinking his butt looks great.” You mumble, entering the uber Isabella arranged.

“But you do think he has a good butt.” Isabella jokes nudging your side.

“I DIDN’T WANT HIM TO KNOW!” you yell, and you look in the review mirror of the uber drivers eyes open in shock when you said that.

Arriving back at the hotel you head straight to your room, head upstairs to your room, not talking to Alison or Isabella and you lock yourself in your room. 

“I can’t believe I said that to him, Fuck!” you exclaim taking of your makeup then burying yourself on your bed until morning. 

“Y/N get your ass out of bed; we got a lot to do today.” Alison snapped, barging into your room.

“Ugh can’t you just let me drown in all these blankets in peace.” You grumble not even lifting your head up to acknowledge her. 

“If you don’t get up in the next five minutes, I’m getting Isabella to help me drag you out of that bed.” Alison sassed. “You promised us a great New York holiday, and we can’t do that if you’re in bed!”

“Nope, I can’t. I’m properly plastered all over the gossip websites ‘Crazy fan tells Milo Manheim he has a great butt’. You girls have fun, I’ll just stay here and rot.” You snarked grabbing a pillow and putting it on your head.

“You are being so ridiculous. Get up we are leaving; I found a cute bakery for breakfast and coffee.” Alison said as you sank deeper into the bed. “Fine. I’m getting Bella, and you know how cranky she is before she has her coffee!”

“Okay fine. Give me twenty minutes to get ready.” You snapped getting out of bed shutting the door as Alison walks out. 

Twenty minutes later you were downstairs, and Isabella and Alison were sitting on the couch watching the TV. 

“About time, I was getting cranky.” Isabella snarled, turning off the TV. “Now let’s go! I’m hungry and I need coffee.”

Heading out of the hotel, you follow Alison’s direction to the bakery she mentioned that was only five minutes away. You smelt the smell of fresh pastries and coffee before you even saw the sign for the bakery. 

“This is the place here, Poseidon Bakery.” Alison grinned pushing the door open to the bakery. “You guys grab a table; I can order for us”

Five minutes later, Alison returns with your order, and you begin eating. The bell above the door chimed and in walks the last person you’d never thought you would see again. It was Milo Manheim. 

“I see you didn’t crawl in a hole and die.” Milo said with a soft laugh.

Your eyes grew. Waves of emotions washed over you. Shit, he’s still standing there. “Oh, you know thought I would do some touristy things and then I was going to find that hole.” You blurted out. 

He just laughs at you. “You’re really funny. I got to go to the theatre. Bye girls.” He says waving at you and the girls. 

“What are the fucking odds of that happening?” you ask, whispering not wanting to get his attention at the counter which was right behind you. 

“Um, low odds. But you know what? Let’s just go. I can order an uber and we can drive all around New York today.” Isabella said as she began picking up her things off the table. You all exit the bakery not daring looking back. Milo turns around and watches you leave. A smile plastered over his face.

In the uber that Isabella ordered she tells the driver to drive to Coney Island. You Alison, and Isabella spent the whole day at Coney Island on all the rides, eating new foods until you couldn’t walk anymore.

“Okay wow, I didn’t realise how much Coney Island was going to be, I would have prepared more.” Isabella huffed as she sat down on a bench dropping all the stuff she collected throughout the day. 

“I’m so tired, I don’t think I can move from here. This is our new home.” Alison yawned taking a seat next to Isabella. 

“How about I organise an uber to take us back to the hotel and we can order room service and binge some Netflix for the rest of the night?” you ask taking out your phone from your pocket.

“Sounds amazing!” Alison and Isabella said in unison. 

Over an hour in the uber, stuck in traffic, you grow more tired the longer you are stuck in traffic. 

“Sorry ladies about the traffic. I can try to get as close as I can to the hotel, but the traffic isn’t moving as there’s been reports of a traffic collision ahead.” The driver said turning his head to you in the back seat. 

“You know what, it’s okay. Its right there we can walk the rest of the way.” You replied. Alison and Isabella nodded their heads, and you exit the car. You gave the driver a quick ‘thank you” as you closed the door behind you. 

On the sidewalk you begin dodging in between people to make it too your hotel. You were so focused on walking and trying not to bump into anyone you look up and see Milo Manheim once again. 

“Twice in one day.” He says as you make eye contact with him. 

Shit. Out of all the people in New York I run into him again. 

You quickly turn to Alison and Isabella at your side mouthing ‘what the actual fuck?’. You turn back to him and say, “Yeah lucky us.”

“He laughs softly and says, “Must be fate or something.”

“Yeah, must be.” Isabella chimes in and you quickly give her a nudge into her side.

“I have a day off tomorrow, how about I take you out, show you around a bit?” he asks not breaking eye contact with you (author is internally screaming)

“I-“

“She would love too.” Alison interrupts.

“Great, I’ll send you a DM on Instagram, what’s your username?” he added taking his phone out of his pocket. 

“It’s @YOURUSERNAME” Isabella chimes in.

“Got it. I got to go back to the theatre, but I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N” he said with a soft smile on his face walking away. 

 Alison and Isabella squeal in delight, grabbing each other and jumping up and down. 

You turn to them, still in shock and say “What the fuck just happened. Am I really going out with a celebrity?” 

“Not just any celebrity, a hot, sexy one who happens to be your biggest crush.” Alison teases.

Your mind begins to race, a million thoughts flood through your head as you begin waking to the hotel.

“I can’t believe it, my best friend dating a celebrity! Ooo, see if you can get him to introduce me too Blake Draper, he’s fine as fuck.” Isabella suggested as you entered the penthouse. 

“No, because I’m not going tomorrow. There’s no way he would go out with a random person.” You huffed, settling into the couch. “And besides, he wont DM me. I’m just a-“your phone dings interrupting you, it’s an Instagram notification a DM from Milo.

“Hey Y/N I’m excited for tomorrow. I’m about to head on stage but ill message you after for details about tomorrow x” you read the message aloud.

“Huh, guess he really did mean it. That means… Holy fuck. I have a date with Milo Manheim!” you express as a thousand thoughts flood your mind. “Girls, help me find something cute to wear tomorrow!”

It’s the next day and you didn’t sleep at all, an hour max of sleep because you were so nervous and excited that he actually asked you out. You head downstairs and start the coffee maker, trying but failing at waking the others up.

“Todays the big day! You nervous?” Isabella asks going through the kitchen cupboards for food that you brought on your first day. 

“I am so fucking nervous I think I only got an hour of sleep last night because I was going over everything in my head. Like why would he ask me out? I mean really, I’m just a random girl that some how caught his attention.” You ramble taking a sip of coffee.

“It doesn’t matter why he asked you out, the thing is he did! And it’s just going to be something fun that you can one day tell the grandkids about, how you went on a date with a heartthrob!” Alison gushed taking a seat next to Isabella. 

“But what about you guys? I’m the one that brought you guys here, I feel guilty leaving you to go on a date.” You muttered finishing of your first of many coffees.

“Don’t be. We will be fine. We were actually going to catch the latest horror movie since we know you don’t like horror movies.” Isabella said finishing off her bowl of cereal.

“But what if-“

“It will be okay. Just go have fun!” Alison interrupts.

Your phone dings with an Instagram message from Milo.

“Hey Y/N. I’ll be in the lobby of your hotel in thirty minutes, then I could give you the grand tour of the city. See you soon x” you finish reading the message aloud. 

“Fuck. He will be here in thirty minutes I need to get ready.” You said grabbing a blueberry muffin for your breakfast and ran upstairs to your room. 

Twenty-five minutes later you were ready and quickly checking your outfit in the full-length mirror. You wore your signature blue denim jacket with a simple pink cami underneath with a skirt, thick tights, and your white converse. You did your makeup simple and styled with some accessories you borrowed from Isabella. 

“Y/N you look hot. Now quite checking yourself out and get your butt in that elevator and we expect details later even if you come home past midnight. We want to know everything!” Isabella teased as she gave you a hug.

“I won’t be staying out late guys.” You reply grabbing out your phone and you have another message from Milo.  “I’m in the lobby x”

“Okay here goes nothing.” You say walking to the door, giving your friends one final wave goodbye as you headed down to the lobby. 

Butterflies swirl in your stomach as the elevator gets closer to the lobby. The elevator dings and the doors open, standing in front is Milo holding a bouquet of Pink Peonies. 

“Hey.” Something so simple has him saying ‘hey’ is making you scream on the inside. “I got these for you.” he says handing you the flowers. 

“How did you know peonies were my favourite?” you ask holding them under your nose and giving them a light sniff. 

“I may or may not have stalked your Insta a bit last night.” He says sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Thank you, that’s so sweet.” You smiled as his gesture. “No one has ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Well, I’m honoured to be the first.” He laughs.

You give the flowers to the receptionist and tell them to take them to the penthouse. Milo takes your hand and escorts you out the hotel.

“I have to warn you about something.” He says looking over at you as he walks you across the street to his awaiting car. “There is a high chance that there will be paparazzi following us today.”

“I mean yeah, you are a celebrity, that’s a given.” You respond as Milo opens the passenger side door for you. 

“Right. Just thought I should say something.” He scoffs. “So, I thought I would take you around Central Park, you said you only went briefly the other day. Then I thought we could go to the top of the Empire State Building.”

“I have to ask you something.” You confess as you begin to fumble with the bottom of your skirt. “Why am I here. Like why did you ask me out? I’m literary no one while you are this huge celebrity.”

He doesn’t even take time to think and imminently says “I’m not going to lie, this is a first for me, asking out a fan. But when I saw you in the audience when I was on stage something clicked for me. When the fist act was done, I talked to Liz backstage, and she encouraged me to ask you out. And I thought why not and here we are.” He admitted quickly looking into your eyes and back to the road. 

Your mind went blank. “Really?” you mumbled looking at him. “I thought you thought I was a crazy person for saying you have a great butt.”

He lets out a laugh. “You’re not the first person to say that. But you are the only one that has made me think about the interaction over in my head. Glad you didn’t find a hole and crawled into and died otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to take you out.”

“Oh yeah I thought it would be best to do some traveling first around the world then crawl in a hole later.” You say sarcastically. 

He laughs as he pulls into a parking spot and gets out the car and holds the door open for you. 

“Why thank you. Such a gentleman.” You say mockingly while you fan yourself slightly laughing. 

“What can I say, my mom raised me right.” he professed giving you a wink. 

He takes your hand again and walks you over to Central Park Lake. He hires a paddle boat and helps you in as he pushes it into the water. He begins rowing and you take in the sights all around you.

“Wow, you never see anything like this in Australia. All the skyscrapers and in the middle the most beautiful park.” You expressed, eyes wide taking in the view. Your eyes the land on Milo who is just staring at you.

“Okay season 2 Xavier.” You mocked him which snaps him out of his trance. 

“I’m sorry what?” he replies.

“You’re staring. Is everything okay?” you ask. 

“Yeah. It’s just you are saying how beautiful everything around you is but all I can see is the beautiful thing before me.” He replies sheepishly. (Again, author is screaming)

“Oooo, do you see some ducks or dogs on the sidewalk.” You say whipping your head around. 

“No. I mean you.” he makes eye contact with you making you imminently blush. “So, what are your plans after New York?” he says changing the subject quickly. 

“We were going to go to LA for a couple of days then head to Europe. This is actually my first time overseas, so I want to make the most of it.” you reply. 

“Ah so you’re going to be exploring my hometown of LA. I can tell you all the great places to go.” He says as he continues to row the boat across the water. 

“I would really like that.” You say as. You can feel the blush rise to your cheeks. 

The rest of the boat ride was incredible. He pointed out so many great places you and your friends have to visit before leaving. He docks the boat with the others and helps you out. Suddenly a horse drawn carriage pulls up and before you can even say anything he pulls you on. 

“First a boat ride and now a horse drawn carriage, you surely know how to make a girl swoon.” You tease lightly nudging his arm.

He laughs “Like I said, my mom raised me right.”

The carriage came to a stop, Milo helped you out before tipping the driver. He directs you back to his car and he drives to the Empire State Building. Once you arrive, he once again opens the car door for you, take your hand in his and you make your way into the building. You take the elevator straight to the top. The door dings and you a greeted with the whole New York skyline. 

“Holy shit, we are so high up.” You say nervously, without thinking you grip onto Milo. 

“Sorry I should have asked if you are scared of heights. Are you okay?” he asks concern in his voice. 

You take a few deep breaths, normally you would be panicking but strangely you weren’t. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You mumble not daring loosening the grip you had on him. 

He slowly walks you over to the edge of the building and you look over at the skyline. How high you were up suddenly wasn’t the problem. Your mind finally clicked that you had a strong grip on him. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry I didn’t even realise I had such a grip on you.” you gasped loosening your grip on him. You fumble back, adjusting your clothes. You can feel the blush intensify on your face, realizing how embarrassed you were. 

He doesn’t even hesitate when he responds “It’s okay sweetheart. C’mon let’s get off this roof and explore the rest of the building.” He takes your hand again and leads you to the elevators.

You and him explore the rest of the building, bumping into a few fans for autographs and photos which you let him, stepping to the side to give them a moment. Ten minutes later he found you admiring some of the artwork hung around the room. 

An idea comes in his head, “Have you checked out the MET?” 

“Uh isn’t that a sporting team?” you reply turning your attention to him. 

“No, well yeah the Mets are a team. I’m talking about the Metropolitan Museum of Art.” he laughed. 

“I totally knew that.” You said with a soft laugh behind your voice. 

He walks you to his car and starts the car, driving to the museum. You sit in his car, your mind swirled with a million thoughts. This was the best date you’d ever been on, but you know it will not go anywhere. You were in two different worlds. He was an actor, constantly travelling, on set or backstage of theatre shows. While you lived on the other side of the world as an interior designer. 

You were so in your thoughts you didn’t even notice what Milo was saying. “Y/N, you, okay? I said we are here.” 

Fuck. You thought. How long were you zoned out for? “Sorry, got lost in my thoughts.” 

He nods his head and gets out of the car and again makes his way over to the passenger side to open your door leading you into the museum. He walks you around the museum, telling you all about the art that he knew of and before long you were back at the front of the museum when you stomach growls. Loud. 

“Shit, I forgot about lunch and its almost 6pm!” he confessed running his hand through his hair. “C’mon there’s a great place not far from here that have the best burgers in New York.”

Before you could respond, he takes your hand again, leading you out the door and down the street to a small diner tucked in between tall buildings. 

“This is one of my favourite places in all of New York. They have the best food and has that classic 50s diner feel.” He says as he holds the door open for the diner. 

The rest of the night flew. You completely forgot that he was this huge celebrity. He was just a regular guy who you were on a date with. He insists on paying the check refusing your suggestion of a split bill. He walks you back to your car. 

“I had a really amazing day with you. As much as I would love to continue this into the night, I have to be at the theatre early in the morning.” He expressed giving your hand a tight squeeze. 

You felt a pang in your heart -weird- you thought you knew it was only meant to be for a day, so why are you feeling this way. “Yeah, me too. I’ve loved exploring New York with you.”

He directs you back to his car and drives you back to the hotel. Then he asks you something you’d never thought he would say to you.

“I want to see you again before you go to LA. I can get you and your friends backstage passes any night you want, I... just have to see you again.” He utters eyes locking with yours. 

You are left speechless. You never thought that in a million years that he would ask that of you. He continues to look into your eyes waiting for you to say something, anything. You finally get your words out. “I would really like that. DM me on Insta?”

 “I will.” He says pulling you into a hug. You get out of the car and wave at him as he drives off down the road.

You head into the hotel and make your way into the elevator. When the elevator dings, Isabella and Alison are there waiting for you, eager looks plastered on their faces with glasses of wine in their hands. 

“TELL US EVERYTHING AND SPARE NO DETAILS!” Alison basically screams at you. 

Isabella covers her left ear and mocks “Fuck, Alison that was right in my ear.” Alison gives her a quick sorry before quickly ushering you to the couch, putting the glass of wine in your hand. 

You begin telling your friends about the date. How he flirted with you, the boat ride, the horse drawn carriage ride, how you had a freak out on top of the Empire State building, taking you to the MET and dinner at his favourite place. You finish of by telling them that he wants to see you again and that he will give you backstage passes.

“Oh my god, my bestie is dating a celebrity. This is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me ever!” Alison squeals almost knocking her wine all over the white shaggy rug. 

“I’m not dating him. It was one date. And we literary live on the other sides of the world. It was only meant to be for here not something that is meant to last.” You added, placing your wine glass on the table in front of you. 

“If that were true, why would he want to see you again?” Isabella asks pouring herself more wine. 

“I don’t know. Anyways I just want to take a shower and get in my PJs. I have a big day planned for us tomorrow.” You say getting off the couch and heading upstairs. 

The rest of your trip in New York flew by and before you knew it you were packing your bags to head to LA the next day. Milo kept his promise and DMed you on Insta when he could and you kept messaging back, having countless hours of messages between you. It was your last night in New York and you and your friends were getting ready to head to the Westside theatre. Milo said he’s left your name with two guests at the stage door so you could head backstage. 

Heading through the stage door felt surreal. Hung along the walls were faces of famous actors that have graced the theatre leading to the backstage area. Milo was finishing up in makeup when he spotted you walking in.  

“Hey Y/N” he says extending his arms out to embrace you in a hug. 

“Milo, hey. Uh these are my best friends, Alison and Isabella.” You expressed. 

“I remember. The ones that didn’t say that I had a great butt.” He laughs and Alison and Isabella join. 

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” you ask.

“Nah, not anytime soon. I got to go. Enjoy the show girls.” He says walking back quickly behind the stage. 

You take your seats in the front row. The show begins and Milo’s eyes find yours imminently. You feel Alison give you nudge to your side, noticing your eye contact. The show continues and throughout just like the first time you and your friends saw the show, Milo constantly made eye contact with you, making you blush, and butterflies fill your stomach. 

After the show was over and the cast did their final bow of the night, Milo did his signature hive fives to the front row. He stops in front of you and gives you a hug. He quickly whispers in your ear, “You look so beautiful tonight.” Before heading backstage. 

“What did he whisper to you?” Alison says as you walk to the exit. 

“He said that I look beautiful tonight.” You reply in a whisper, not wanting people around you to hear.

“HE SAID WHAT?” Alison basically screamed and you nudged her when she did. 

“Could you say that any louder Alison? I don’t think my parents in Australia heard you?” you sassed her while Isabella just laughed. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just so exciting I can’t help myself.” She replied.

You, Isabella, and Alison were waiting in the crowded lobby, waiting for the exit to clear when a strong voice from behind you said. “Excuse me ladies, I need you to come with me.” You turn around and see a tall man in uniform that read ‘security’ on his shirt. 

“Is there something wrong?” Isabella asks, concern filled her voice. 

“No, but I was asked by a certain someone that he wants to see a young woman named Y/N and her friends. He gave me your description so here I am. If you could follow me, please.” The man demands. There is only one person that would want to see you and that was Milo. 

The man ushers you backstage and you are greeted with Milo.

“Did you really think you could leave without saying goodbye Y/N?” he asks with a smirk on his face. 

“Well, no, I thought we were going to do that outside.” You responded

“If we did it outside, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” He says as he pulls you forward and kisses you hard on the lips. (Once again, the author is crashing out over this LOL)

You hear Alison squeal and Isabella nudges her to turn around to give you a moment. 

“I… Wasn’t expecting that.” You stutter still reeling in what just happened. 

“I’ve been dying to do that since our date.” He expressed with a smile plastered on his face. “I wanted to say goodbye, before you head off to LA, and I didn’t want to do it in front of others or over the phone.”

“Uh-huh” is all you can muster out at that point, still head spinning. 

“I really liked getting to know you, Y/N” he grinned. “I’ve got to get to the stage door. Bye gorgeous.”

“Bye Milo” you finally say as he leaves the room.

“Did that just happen or am I dreaming, or worse am I dead and I’m in heaven? ‘Cos there is aint no way that really happened.” You blurted out.

“No, it really happened. That one hell of a kiss.” Isabella joked, while Alison was still beaming.

“My bestie just kissed a celebrity!” she said practically squealing.

 

Two weeks later, you Alison and Isabella enjoyed your long week in LA. Going to all the famous beaches, the Hollywood walk of fame, Disneyland and practically every other touristy thing you can do, you did. You were at the airport about to fly to Paris; you begin scrolling through your phone on Instagram when you get a message from Milo.

Milo: Have a safe flight today, it’s my final night doing little shop. Feels bittersweet.

You: You remembered? That’s so sweet. And wow final night already? Break a leg (not really tho LOL)

Milo: Of course, I did. And ha-ha thank you. Message when you get there.

You: I will.

“Ooo what’s got you smiling like that, is it Milo? Alison asks with a silly tone in her voice. 

“Yeah, he said to have a safe flight and that tonight’s his last night doing little shop.” You replied putting your phone in your pocket. 

“Ooooo! He’s acting all like-“

“Flight 2913 to Paris is now boarding first class passengers.” The overhead announcement cut Alison off from what she was saying. You, Alison, and Isabella boarded the plane and found you seats in first class. You settled into your seat and found a movie to watch one that you won’t admit to your friends (especially Alison) that Milo recommended for you. 

Ten hours later, you arrived in Paris and greeting you at on the curb of the airport was a taxi service you arranged to take you to the hotel. The flight was long, and you were sleepy, but you didn’t care. You sat in the back seat of the Taxi, taking in all the sights of the city around you. Arriving at the Hôtel Plaza Athénée, you checked in, found your room, and fell imminently to sleep. 

“Y/N get your butt out of bed; we are hungry, and we want a full French breakfast. We haven’t eaten since the plane.” Isabella shouted at you from the living room of the hotel. 

You grumbled ignoring them and fell back to sleep. Five minutes later, Alison and Isabella barged into your room.

“Get up now!” Isabella said grabbing your arm and pulling you out from under the covers. 

“Okay I’m up.” You mumble wiping your eyes. “I need a shower first.”

“You have twenty minutes, or we are leaving without you.” Alison demanded, leaving your room.

Fifteen minutes you were finally ready. “And I still have five minutes to spare before you murder me.” You mock meeting Alison and Isabella who were waiting on the sofa scrolling through the TV. 

“And I’m glad I don’t since you’re the one paying for the trip.” Isabella laughs as she stands up from the couch and opens the door of the hotel.

After the full French breakfast Isabella insisted on having, you book an uber and head for the Louvre. Ten minutes later you were at the word famous museum. There were people everywhere waiting to get into the museum.

“Okay I get it, it’s a famous museum but why is there so many people here? I swear there was less people in New York.” You sassed getting overwhelmed with the amount of people crowding your personal space. 

“We’re next in line, just breath. Okay.” Alison says reassuring you and placing her hand on your arm. 

Finally entering the museum and exploring all the famous artwork such as the Mona Lisa. “Its smaller than what I thought.” You stated as you finally made it close enough to actually view it. 

“She really should have smiled.” Isabella joked. 

“We’ve been here for three hours, and I need some coffee to keep me going for the rest of the day.” Alison said, scrolling through her phone for the nearest coffee shop.

You and Isabella looked at each other “But you just had coffee… you know what? Never mind. Let’s get some coffee.” Isabella quickly changes her tone when she sees Alison death stare at her. 

Thirty minutes waiting to exit the museum, Alison tells you about the coffee shop she found not far, and you begin walking. Alison and Isabella have been talking about the next horror movie they want to see so you just tune them out, scrolling through your phone looking at the photos you had taken. Suddenly, you hear your name being called out. You shoot up your head from your phone, and lock eyes with someone you never thought you would see again. It was Milo.

“Milo? How did…. Why are you…” you stutter out shocked at seeing him standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

“I saw on your Instagram that you were in Paris, and I took the next flight out. I had to see you.” he says. Filling in the gap between the two of you.

“You did why?” you ask, mind completely blank. 

“To do this.” He said, locking eyes with you and then embracing you in a kiss. You melt under his touch, and you can hear Alison squealing again and Isabella trying to calm her.

“I don’t know how this is going to work, but I want it too, if you do as well?” he asks after he breaks apart your kiss. 

“Yeah, I do want too.” You reply back, giving him a hug and you can feel him plant a kiss on your hairline. 

                                                   

The End.

[holybibly]

This is a little preview of my new series and yes, bunnies, this is a whole series from me. I hope everyone is ready for an erotic dystopia?

Decadent dystopian erotica with majestic dragons - second teaser for today

Glass House Ateez x reader

Everything changed in an instant. 

The king was dead, and thousands of dragons took to the burning skies. The old world was over, and a 'new age' was in the making—an age of gods and monsters. 

A thousand years ago, the fires of revolution blazed across the face of the world. Dragons—the creatures of ancient legends and children's fairy tales—reduced the once prosperous world to ashes in a matter of minutes. Rivers of black blood coursed through the veins of the streets, flooding the cities and lands in their wake. The sky was a blaze of purple flames and electric shocks. The church was reduced to rubble, and the royal family was executed in a public display. In the eyes of the dead, the unspoken horror in front of these majestic creatures remained forever, and in the sparks of the flames, they shimmered like precious sea stones. 

There was a bitter smell of burning flesh and ash in the air. It was the smell of dreams on fire—the smell of a future in decay. 

It was the beginning of the end of ancient life. The beginning of a new world. The Age of Immortality has begun. 

All the legends turned out to be true; dragons did exist. They had always lived close to us, lurking in the velvety darkness of the night, waiting for the hour. Waiting for the hour to come when the power would be in their hands. Dangerous, unbridled, wild creatures of magic and the elements, predators at the top of the food chain. They had come into the world to rule, not to obey, and now, at long last, their time had come. 

The world was at anarchy. Dragons were killing, raping, and enslaving races and lands as if it were an amusing child's game. They drank blood as black as the night from golden bowls, and they ate our succulent flesh as our bones cracked under the pressure of their razor-sharp teeth. They would hold orgies in the midst of the torn corpses and revel in their omnipotence. Those were the days of darkness. A time of terror, when the very word danger was a synonym for life itself. And so it went for several years, until the ultimate power fell into the clutches of the deadly Children of the Night, the oldest of all dragons. 

The majestic Hala. 

Eternal as the moon itself and deadly as the uncharted depths of the ocean, they inspired burning terror in all who encountered them. To their people, they were nothing more than a myth, a legend written on fragments of tablets. Forefathers, ancestors—they had hundreds of names, but each one inspired more fear than the last. They were predators among predators, bristling with animal dominance and primal, unbridled sexuality. They exuded power and sinfulness. They were the ones who defined the rules and set the boundaries of what was permissible. 

With the arrival of Hala, a new phase in the history of the world began. 

Humanity was enslaved, and dragons became the dominant species. As the years went by, the human population began to decline rapidly, with fewer and fewer humans, until "our" species reached the status of gatherers. Angelicus Nova, or Angel Stars, was what we came to be called. Human existence took on a strange religious orientation; we were worshipped, idolized, and adored, but despite all this, humans remained nothing more than a rare exchangeable currency, nothing more than an expensive trinket that was prestigious to own and could be broken with a flick of the wrist. 

The human being also became one of the ways in which money flowed endlessly. These institutions were known as "glass houses." Gateway to heaven. They would be the equivalent of strip clubs or luxury escort houses if you and I were in the old world. The rules were the same: "Look, but don't touch." Girls and boys were expensive pieces of family jewelry that rested under the glass of fancy display cases. Our masters showed us off to the greedy eyes of the world with all the pride and ostentation that dragons have. 

In spite of their possessive, animalistic nature, dragons were nothing more than swaggering bastards with inflated egos and delusions of grandeur.

Humans could be anything as long as dragons owned us—a muse, an innamorata, a nymph, an angel, a siren, or even a goddess—but like everything else in the universe, we came at a price. 

The 'glass houses' were only in operation at night. During the day, all the 'jewels' rested and tidied up after tiring hours of contemplation of the world through the bluish glass of the display window. Nice, obliging workers in starched white collars were busy with the cleaning, scrubbing the baroque decorations of the vetrines with great care from a mixture of sperm, drool, and other secretions. You looked at it with an almost reverent awe, finding it disgusting to the point of bordering on the pornographically beautiful. 

You could see it as real art—crude and original, but art nonetheless. There was something particularly mesmerizing about it, almost hypnotic, about the way the thick, pearly sperm dripped slowly from the golden flowers. 

Of all the glass houses that ever existed, "Eros" was the most beautiful. It was the jewel in the crown of the New Empire, and you were its goddess. There were rumors that the Hala themselves were customers of 'Eros'. But rumors were only rumors. If they were ever to visit your 'home', you would know about it, for they would be where all men ended up—at your feet. 

You were content with the life that you were living. There was no tragedy and no misery, no abusive family or abusive peers, no bullying and harassment at school—no, you had it all great. You were born here at Eros—the growth and blossoming of a beautiful flower. Your whole life has been within the confines of glass rooms and silk sheets, but unlike your dreamy friends, you weren't in need of rescue. 

Your name is Aphrodite. Born in the radiance of the Creator. A goddess among goddesses, carved out of marble and mother of pearl. Your hair falls to the ground in waterfalls of pearls and silk. Your eyes are the eerie silvery moonlight in half-darkness, the deadly attraction of jewels in velvet lashes. Your lips are the succulent, juicy, forbidden fruit that every man would like to taste. The pain of your kiss is going to be the last pleasure of life. 

You are not a delicate, pure lily; you are not a passionate, fiery rose; you are a narcissus reveling in the crystal of mountain waters. You love yourself to pain, to death, to despair, and in all the New Empire, there was none more beautiful than you. 

Original sin. The primordial beauty. You are desire in all it manifests and begins to manifest. 

The naked goddess, clad in snow-white fur like armor, is the goddess of love and ecstasy. 

You've never been conceptualized; you've always been enigmatic. 

You have been the object of worship. Your beauty has been sung in songs, and your love has been professed in a thousand languages. "Eros" was the site of visits from the mightiest and most powerful dragons of the New Empire. They all crawled at your feet, stroking their thick, greased with their cum cocks, greedily as they burned your skin with their golden gaze. They licked the deceptively thin glass of your display case with their long, sometimes split tongues, leaving muddy streaks on the perfect surface of the glass. The mighty and great dragons, unaccustomed to humiliation and submission, urinated like bitches in heat at the mere sight of your bare shoulders and long neck covered with diamond serpents, their eyes shining like stars in the twilight of your silken chambers. They would drip their sperm onto the icy marble floor until it collected in small, glistening puddles, and then they would lick it up as if it were the sweetest nectar in the world. Ambrosia in the truest sense. 

Behind the glass walls of Eros, they were dominators, predators, and the rulers of this world through fear and pain, but here in this garden of Eros, they were nothing more than whores—shameless and needy. Slaves to your beauty, desperate to please you. 

Their moans are always a delight to you. The moaning of your name. 

The scenarios have been repeated to the point of being painful. Sugar-sweet subs with outstretched tongues and pretty, tear-stained faces. Dominant alphas with sweat-glistening skin and eyes rolling with pleasure.

Dragons fucked other dragons; orgies and bacchanals were staged; they were subjugated and subdued. They growled, moaned, squealed, and purred; some were fucked like a port slut, and some were licked for hours until they passed out from hyperstimulation. Some masturbated in front of your window, enjoying the fact that you were there to watch them, and there were others who would spend their heat and ruts in front of your window. 

The list could go on and on: bondage, darkphilia, breeding, voyeurism, humiliation, objectification, and breathing games.

You were saturated with this game. 

There were so many ways in which you could spend your evenings in the company of others. It was all designed to excite you, to make you beg, and to make you plead. Each of your visitors secretly hoped that one day you would strip off your luxurious furs and assume the position that was right for them—submissive, naked, and ready to accept whatever it was they were giving you. 

It was an act of power; it was a position of strength, but here you were the strength. You were power. 

No one would ever have the temerity to lay a hand on you. Goddesses are always untouchable.

You entertained yourselves by teasing them, mocking them, and fanning their flames of desire and passion. Dragons are creatures that are very dependent on their emotions and their desires; they feed on their power and their magic, but when they do not get what they want, it burns them from the inside; it breaks and crumbles them, like a cookie that has been bitten.

It was delicious, but you were full. Thank you, next.

You never denied that you were a sadist; you had a taste for pain; maybe it was a kind of revenge for the destruction of your family; maybe not. They came to you for that feeling; the dragons wanted to be punished and tamed, and the feeling of pain made them cum harder. As they say, Orgasm is a little death.

You could play this game for hours on end, letting the fur expose your boobs and pressing it against the cold glass as you went. It was magnificent—tall and plump, as if it had been milked with milk—with pink nipples the color of magnolia blossoms. There was something animalistically seductive about it—an appeal to their natural reproductive instincts—that evil thought of possible pregnancy. Their whimpering made you laugh, and the sounds they made were so sweet—desperate pleas and long, long moans.

"Let me taste you; I want it so much. I was a good boy, such a good boy."

There were other days when you would let your hands run over the bare skin of your thighs, leaving long red streaks that stood in erotic contrast to the silk of your pale skin. You smeared the clear, shimmering liquid of your juices along the line of your neck, in that most exciting place for dragons, where their teeth locked in a mating mark, as if branding their mate in the most perverse of affiliations.

"Tell me I belong to you; please say it. I'll do anything you don't want. Own me, use me; I want to be your toy.".

Sometimes other girls would be brought into your shop window to put on an erotic show. Exquisite nymphs and rosy-cheeked Lolitas would explore your tender skin with their soft, wet tongues, leaving traces of hungry kisses, until at last their lips would close on the most intimate spot between your thighs.

On days like this, the whole of 'Eros' would shake with furious, jealous growls and thunderclaps. Dragons were terrible possessive, and even though the "scene" itself would excite the hell out of them, the jealousy would burn through their veins from the inside out, like a deadly poison.

"You belong to me, and only to me. You are mine, mine and mine alone. I will tear this girl apart, and we will fuck in her blood until there are no more conscious thoughts left in your pretty little head, until you remember nothing but my name.".

But no matter what their words were to you, you didn't have a care in the world. Nobody would dare touch the goddess, and if they tried, they would not only lose their hands but also get killed.

That was the law of the New Empire—all the people who were left were protected and sheltered in an incredible way. There were very few of you, and if there had been any harm to even one of you, it would have been a real tragedy.   Only once has there been a breach of that law, and the consequences have been terrible. No one wants a repeat.

In any case, your life in the Garden of Eros was a pleasure. Maybe it was some kind of perverse way of looking at the world and love, but you didn't have any desire to change anything; everything was great.

Have you ever wondered if there might be another version of you out there? Perhaps, somewhere in a parallel universe, humans would still exist as the dominant species, their countries and cities would be prosperous, and you would be living a different life—a normal one. There, in that other universe, that other Aphrodite—no, not Aphrodite—you would have an ordinary name, not a divine one, something cute, something sweet, and always with a hint of shyness. It is probably there that you would have experienced your first love, that you would dream of a prince who would take you off into the sunset, and that "and they lived happily ever after." You would have been embarrassed to talk about sex, and you would have blushed horribly if his fingers had been in your knickers. But you weren't her. And she wasn't you. You don't want to be saved from sinning; you want to become one of them. You want to experience forbidden pleasures. You want to subjugate and dominate.

You're not in need of a prince; you've already had a king, or rather, eight kings. The day will come when everything you have ever dreamed of will come true, even if you haven't met any of the Hala yet.

You want power; you want to sit on a golden throne in a castle high up in the sky, and so it shall be. They say that love is a great strength, but they fail to mention that it is also the greatest weakness. And you, like no one else, know how to use it to your advantage.

This is not a pink fairy tale. There are no rainbow ponies pooping rainbows and eating fairy dust. No, this is a rotten world. It is full of debauchery, violence, and sex. You could say, "Come and rescue me. I'm waiting for  you," but no, you have to rephrase it as "I'm waiting for you to crawl on your knees and lick my heels, and from that moment on, I will own you.".

Yes, that sounds much better.

It's already eight o'clock; time to get ready; you're leaving soon.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most famous glass house in the New Empire. Tonight we have wet aesthetic cunnilingus as our main course, and for dessert, a mind-blowing orgasm. You have a choice of starters. Drinks are on the house. We accept cash and checks. If you wish, you can leave a tip for one of our "jewels.".

Our hope is that your time at Eros will be an unforgettable experience.