#i can let it out but not be “productive” or i can “fix it” but not dwell on it much

[dreamscapeee222]

i would like to request arcane characters x reader who is a creature made by signed, they are completely in control of there mind but are traumatized by being experimented on

A/n: I quite like this idea. I hope you like this anon ^^

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Caitlyn

Masterlist

Vi

Vi's first reaction is anger—pure, seething rage at Singed for what he did to you. She doesn’t hide it, clenching her fists and muttering about how someone like him shouldn’t walk free. But when it comes to you, her touch is impossibly gentle. "Hey, you’re safe with me, alright? No one’s gonna touch you again."

She gets that you don’t want to talk about it all the time, but if you ever bring up the experiments or the pain, she’ll sit down, her full attention on you.

Vi doesn’t see you as broken or monstrous. To her, you’re a survivor, someone stronger than anyone gives you credit for. When you’re feeling weak or haunted, she’ll stay by your side, grounding you with her presence. "Whatever they tried to do to you? It didn’t work. You’re still you."

Jinx

Jinx's reaction is a mix of fascination and anger. She’ll ask you questions like, "Did he put stuff in your veins? Did it glow? Did it hurt?" but stops herself if she sees you flinch.

She’s been through her own trauma, so she gets the fractured feeling of not being entirely yourself. Jinx has a way of making you laugh, even when you don’t feel like it, though sometimes her chaotic energy can be overwhelming.

When you’re spiraling, she pulls out her creations and distracts you with wild, fantastical ideas about revenge on Singed. "We could make him pay, y’know. Or just… forget him. He’s not worth the space in your head."

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s quiet support is unwavering. She doesn’t press you to talk about what happened but listens intently when you decide to share. Her voice is soft but firm: "What they did to you was wrong, but it doesn’t define you. You’re more than what they tried to make you."

She’s thorough about ensuring your safety, setting up layers of protection so Singed or anyone like him can never touch you again. If you’re startled by reminders of your past, Caitlyn is quick to calm you down, steady and sure.

She’s attentive to the little things, like ensuring you have time to decompress or offering a warm drink after a hard day. Her care is subtle but constant.

Ekko

Ekko doesn’t see you as a product of Singed’s experiments; he sees you as a person who’s endured unimaginable hardship. "You didn’t let them win. That’s all that matters." His admiration for your resilience is evident in the way he talks to you.

He’s patient when you need time to process your trauma but encourages you to find ways to heal. He’ll invite you to work with him, tinkering with gadgets or exploring the Undercity, hoping to help you find something that makes you feel whole again.

Ekko is fiercely protective, not just physically but emotionally. He knows when to push and when to back off, and his unwavering presence helps you feel grounded.

Jayce

Jayce is visibly shaken when he learns what you went through. His first instinct is to fix it somehow, though he quickly realizes it’s not something he can simply solve. "I’m sorry. No one should have to go through that."

He tries to show you that you’re not alone, whether by sharing stories of his own failures or simply being there when you need someone to lean on.

Jayce is big on making sure you know your worth. "What they did doesn’t define you. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met." He often marvels at your resilience, treating you like the hero you are.

Viktor

Viktor’s reaction is complicated. He’s horrified by what Singed did but can’t entirely distance himself from the methods, given his own work with Hextech. Still, his focus is entirely on you. "You survived despite everything. That takes more strength than anyone realizes."

He’s methodical in helping you recover, designing tools or devices to ease any lingering pain or discomfort from the experiments. His way of showing love is through action, ensuring you have what you need to move forward.

Viktor is incredibly patient, never rushing your healing process. He admires your resilience and often reminds you that you’re in control now.

Mel

Mel doesn’t flinch when you share your past; her calm, empathetic demeanor never wavers. "They tried to strip you of your humanity, but they failed. You’re still standing." Her words are like balm, soothing and empowering.

She uses her influence to ensure Singed can never harm anyone again, quietly working behind the scenes to dismantle any remnants of his operations.

Mel is your anchor when you feel adrift, offering steady reassurance and endless patience. She encourages you to redefine yourself on your terms, helping you see your worth beyond the pain you’ve endured.

See pinned.

[supernovafics]

completed series masterlist

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 6k words

warnings:  explicit language, established relationship, lots and lots of fluff, a tiny bit of angst, smut (18+), unprotected piv sex

summary: you and steve get to spend the weekend together 

author's note: this takes place about six ish months from the epilogue of this series. you don’t really need to have read everything to read this, just know that actor!steve and reader are dating and have been for the past six months, and reader works in film (production/behind the scenes stuff)🫡🫡🫡 this whole thing turned out to be so much longer than i expected omg but i was really missing actor!steve and star of the show so yeah this happened! enjoy<3333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

BONUS | ❝𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅❞

You were practically jumping into Steve’s arms when he exited the car, not even giving him a chance to grab his bag from the trunk before you were hugging him tightly. 

The soft and happy laugh he emitted in response to your antics made you smile into his neck.   

“God, I’ve missed you.”

His arms tightened around you. “I’ve missed you too.” 

You two stayed just like that for a bit, simply savoring the feeling of finally being in each other’s arms after two and a half months of not having that. Until the cold was hitting you and the red knit sweater you were wearing and Steve’s arms wrapped around you were sadly not enough to keep you warm. 

Reluctantly, you pulled out of the embrace and looked up at him. “Okay, it’s freezing out here. Let’s go inside.”

Steve nodded as he went to grab his bag from the trunk of his Uber; a small suitcase that made sense for this weekend trip to the small town that was an hour away from where the documentary you’d been working on as a producer for the last few months was filming in upstate New York. 

“Does the inside actually match the pictures on the website?” Steve asked as his free hand found yours and the two of you walked up the small path that led to the house you rented for the weekend. 

“Surprisingly yes,” You answered, about to open the front door, but then you remembered something that had somehow slipped your mind in the last few minutes; which actually made sense because being with Steve always managed to do that to you. You stopped walking before you pushed open the door and looked up at him. “Oh, okay, so I kinda fucked up.”  

He gave you a confused look. “What happened?”

“It was really cold in the house when I first got here a couple hours ago, so I turned on the heat,” You started and Steve nodded along to your words. “But, it’s broken or something because when I tried to turn it down, it didn’t work and it won’t turn off, so it’s… pretty warm inside.” 

“Oh, okay, that’s fine,” He said with a quick shrug, completely underestimating just how bad it was because you were downplaying the entire situation. “I thought you were gonna say you flooded the place or something.”

You finally pushed open the front door and let Steve walk in first, taking note of his reaction as he was hit with the heat and immediately went to pull his jacket off. 

He raised an eyebrow at you. “‘Pretty warm’?” 

“I know. I’m sorry,” You said as you pushed the sleeves of your sweater up to your elbows. “I called the lady that owns the place and she said that she can send her brother over tomorrow to fix it.”

Aside from the heat, the place was nice. You gave him a quick tour of the small space; well, only the parts that mattered— the living room that didn’t have a TV but you already had your laptop set up on the coffee table, the kitchen that was actually the perfect size for the meal that you two would be cooking later, the backyard patio that had a fire pit that you quickly told Steve would be perfect for making smores. 

And then there was your bedroom on the second floor. It wasn’t until you were closed behind the door of the room that Steve finally kissed you, spinning you around as you were pointing at the door that led to the bathroom and slotting his lips against yours. 

You knew why he had waited, and why you had put it off too— that first kiss after being apart for so long was never just a kiss; it always quickly led to more and you both hated having to interrupt it. 

You yelped in surprise before instinctively melting into your boyfriend’s touch. His hands were cupping your face so tenderly that it didn’t even bother you how cold they were; in fact, you found it as a nice contrast from the heat that took over the entire house.  

Steve guided you back toward the nicely made bed and then softly pushed you down so that you were lying on it, breaking the kiss. You wasted no time in pulling your sweater up and over your head and tossing it somewhere in the room, leaving you in your black bra. You felt near desperate to get Steve out of the long sleeve he was wearing too, but before you could make any move to do so he was leaning over you and kissing you again. 

Your fingers slipped into the belt loops of the dark jeans he was wearing and pulled him firmly against you. Feeling his hardness pressed against your thigh made you softly whine into the kiss and the quiet groan Steve let out in response sounded like music to your ears. 

He grinded against you roughly and your hips bucked upward at every one of his movements, trying to feel anything through your jeans. You suddenly wished that you had opted for wearing the skirt that you had ultimately decided to save for later. 

With a particularly rough stir of his hips, you moaned into his mouth and your hands shot up to find their home in his hair.  

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled against your lips. 

You hummed in confusion. “For what?”

His mouth found your neck, nipping harshly at your collarbone and making you mewl. “I really don’t wanna take my time with you right now.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Good, because I don’t want you to either.”

Clothes were shed and littered on the floor in a matter of what felt like seconds. Your head fell back against one of the pillows and Steve settled comfortably on top of you and between your spread legs, his body enveloping yours completely. You two didn’t even bother getting under the blanket; it was too hot to do so anyway.  

The feeling of his cock pressed against your inner thigh, so close yet so far from where you needed it to be, made you moan and you could feel yourself dripping at the thought of what was to come. You needed him badly and right now. 

As if reading your mind, Steve positioned himself at your entrance and pushed inside of you; your wetness making it easy for him to fill you up completely in one swift movement that made you both gasp. 

Your mind effectively became a pile of mush, but you still were coherent enough to reach up and give his hair the soft tugs that you knew he loved. It made him groan and his thrusts started to pick up speed, not taking things slow just like he said. 

It was the pent up frustration and build up from not having been with each other in person that made you both practically feral for each other. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you so much. Your pussy always feels so good. Takes me so fucking well. Shit, fuck. I love you. I love you so, so much.” Steve’s rambling was a given in moments like these. 

It was always this “hello” sex or subsequent “goodbye” sex where he would ramble on and on about how much he loved you and how perfect you were. His words came out quick and rushed as if they’d been living inside of him for so long and they were finally able to burst out. 

You became pretty much the opposite in these moments, mind running on autopilot as you took everything he was giving you. It was always so hard to form coherent sentences when all you could think about was how good he felt inside of you. 

“Shit, I’m not gonna last long, honey,” Steve said. His hand had a near-bruising grip on your hip as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper inside of you with every thrust. 

“I don’t care,” You told him, finding your voice. “I need you to cum inside me, Steve. Please.”

His hand moved from your hip and snaked between your bodies to find your clit, rubbing tight circles against the sensitive nub to bring you there with him. You let out the loudest moan and clenched around his cock in response and it abruptly sent him over the edge. He came inside you with a groan and a surprised “fuck,” hand finding and squeezing your hip once again. The feeling of his cum painting your walls nearly made you burst with him. 

He buried his face in your neck and you could feel his racing heart against your chest and it made you smile, it also made you want to kiss him. You turned your head a little, pressing a kiss into his hair, but it wasn’t enough for you. 

You gave Steve a little nudge and he lifted his head, looking at you curiously. 

“Let me kiss you,” You told him and he smiled as he leaned in and you closed the rest of the small bit of distance between you two. It was slow and languid, a surprisingly nice contrast from how rushed and intense everything had been a few minutes ago. 

When you felt sated, you pulled back. “Okay, let’s go shower.”

“No, no, wait,” Steve said, lifting off of you a bit. You should’ve known what was coming; Steve hated finishing before you— although, you didn’t really care that much because it never happened that often anyway, and honestly when it did happen you found it quite endearing. But, there was no way that he’d let you get up in this moment without making you come. 

His middle finger found your clit again and you couldn’t help but let out the softest whine and clench around his cock that was still inside you as he started slowly circling the bundle of nerves. “Need you to come for me, baby, okay?”

Your eyes fell shut and you were nodding immediately. “Mm, okay.”

You felt him kiss your cheek and then his mouth was right at your ear as his finger started moving faster and you were bucking your hips upward to feel more. “God, you look so perfect spread out for me like this. Be a good girl and come for me.”

You’d already been close so it didn’t take long for you to come around his softening cock, especially with the soft praises he was giving you. 

“Fuck, fuck, Steve.” He continued stroking your clit through your orgasm, not pulling away until he could tell that you were becoming too overstimulated. 

“Okay,” He said, lips pressing against yours in the softest kiss. “Now we can shower.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You and Steve were really good at long distance— texts and calls and FaceTimes were always frequent and you never went a day without talking to each other, even if it was just a quick conversation— but nothing would ever beat seeing each other in person. The last time was a couple of months ago when you had a few days free and you went back to Los Angeles to see him. It was great, but felt so short, and it already slightly saddened you that this weekend would be the same thing. 

Steve was making grabby hands at you the second you two stepped into the cool shower. 

“Hey, hey, no funny business right now,” You said, playfully swatting his hands away as you pulled the curtain closed. “We need to make this shower quick because there’s this outdoor Fall market thing I want us to go to. It’s like a five-minute walk from here.” 

He pressed a soft kiss against your neck and then gave you a curious look. “Is that a good idea?”

You two were still navigating how to be in public with one another and how to make it work; and if it would even be possible to make it work in the way you wanted it to. You really didn’t want to get pulled into the spotlight and Steve was completely understanding of that, so staying in when you two were together wasn’t uncommon to either of you. And it had yet to feel like a huge deal because when you two only had a few days to spend with each other at a time, going out wasn’t on either of your minds. However, these current circumstances felt pretty different because of where you two were.

You pulled back a little and let your arms come up to circle his neck, your hands finding home in the damp hair at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, we don’t have to worry here, this is such a small town and a paparazzi-free zone. I promise.”

“Okay,” He nodded, and then his eyes fell shut as you softly started stroking his hair. “So, what do they have at this Fall market thing?”

“I only quickly drove past it so I don’t really know,” You told him. “But, I did see a hot chocolate stand and we have to get that.” 

“Mm, that sounds good.”

“Oh, oh, oh, that reminds me, did you bring me chocolate from San Francisco?” You asked, smiling up at him. 

His eyes opened then and he smiled back at you. “Of course, it’s in my suitcase.”

“God, I love you,” You tilted your head upward to give his lips a quick peck. “We should probably take it out soon and put it in the fridge because of how hot it is.”

 “I’ll grab it after this,” Steve said and you nodded. 

You were the one to pull out of his arms and force you two to do what you were supposed to be doing in a shower, and five minutes later, you both were clean but neither of you made any move to turn off the water. Instead, Steve was turned away from you and you were softly running your finger across his back, doing a sort of connect the dots with the few freckles and moles that were littered across his skin. It would be pretty safe to say that you two were using the shower as a way to cool down from the heat that was taking over the entire house. And although you had proclaimed that this needed to be a quick shower, you didn’t mind wasting a few more minutes in it with Steve. 

“Hey,” He said softly and you hummed in response to let him know that you were listening. “I think that I’m gonna turn down the role for the movie that’s filming in Toronto in January.” 

You abruptly stopped tracing random patterns on his back. “What? Really?”

At first, he simply nodded in answer, and then you poked him a couple times so that he would turn and face you. 

“Yeah, I’m not really into the script or the role that much. And it also would overlap for two weeks with the next thing I’m gonna do in Europe. Those producers said that they can make this overlap work, but I don’t know, I just don’t really want to do the one in Toronto, anyway,” He told you, and then his hands settled on your bare waist. “Plus, if I don’t do it, then that means we’ll get three uninterrupted months together in LA instead of just having December.” 

You tried not to let yourself get too excited at the idea of things working out like that. Once the documentary finished, you wouldn’t have anything big planned until you worked as the Assistant Director on Jessie’s, your good friend’s, next film that was starting in three months. Your plan in the meantime was to go home to Los Angeles and just take a break until then; maybe help out on some local projects here and there because it was hard to completely push your mind away from working. Now knowing that Steve would also be home the entire time made the thought of actually taking a break sound nice.

You gave him a look in this moment, though, because it was impossible for you to not think logically about this too. “You’re not really doing this just for that last reason, right?”

If his answer was yes, you were ready to launch into an explanation about how he didn’t need to do that just so you two could spend more time together. Your schedules had already aligned perfectly and you two would get to spend the holidays together— and that felt lucky and great in itself— so he didn’t need to turn down roles he wanted just so you two could have more moments like this one. You’d been making it work these last six months and you knew that you’d continue to make this relationship work without either of you having to make any crazy sacrifices just yet. 

“No, I meant all of that other stuff,” Steve told you, wrapping his arms around you completely and pulling you closer. “Things were entirely different before you and before us. I used to like taking every role that I was offered because I wanted to stay busy and because I hated taking breaks between projects. But now I don’t wanna work all the time and take roles that aren’t that interesting just to stay busy. Especially not when not doing the movie or whatever else means I get to spend that time with you instead.”

It was honestly really endearing seeing how things were shifting for him because of you and your relationship; it was also a little scary. 

“And you’re completely sure about this?”

Steve didn’t hesitate to nod. “A thousand percent.”

You let yourself accept his words then, knowing that he was telling you the truth.

“Y’know, this means that we’ll finally get a chance to get sick of each other instead of constantly missing each other,” You said, playfully poking his side.

Steve laughed a little. “That’ll be a nice change.”

It was a possibility, but neither of you could actually see that happening, you couldn’t imagine growing sick of him. 

You had wanted to keep things fairly PG, but it was too hard not to kiss him in this moment; threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him close to you, chest to chest and hands grabbing at your hips. He guided you back to the wall of the shower and softly pressed you against the white tile. You could feel his half-hard cock twitch against where it was pressed to your lower stomach and you suddenly felt so close to telling him to fuck you against the wall. 

Before you could beg or even simply ask for that, Steve was pulling away from your mouth and pressing his forehead against yours with a soft breath. “Remember when this was supposed to be a quick shower?”

He was being the logical one in this moment and you were simultaneously happy and annoyed about it. 

You nodded. “Sadly yes.”

Steve moved away from you completely, finally turning off the water and pushing the curtain to the side to grab the towels that you two had hanging up. He wrapped one around your shoulders and then grabbed the other one for himself and wrapped it around his waist. 

You readjusted your towel and before he stepped out of the shower you grabbed his attention with a soft, “Hey.”

You held up your pinky and then continued. “I know you said that you didn’t even want to take this role anyway, but promise me that if there is something that you do really like and wanna do or even like a little or whatever, you won’t turn it down for me and because of us, okay?” 

You weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to say that in this moment, to remind him that you two would always figure out how to make things work despite all of your guys’ work stuff, but it felt important to. 

He nodded as he lifted his hand and linked his pinky with yours. “I promise.”

“Remember, I take these very seriously, Steven,” You said, smiling up at him. 

“I know,” He said, a small smile on his face, and he was the one to kiss you that time around.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The hot chocolate was warm in your hands and it felt so nice that it made you not want to drink anymore of it yet; it was still a bit too hot anyway. 

You and Steve were settled on a random bench in the park where the market was happening. After an hour of walking around and buying a few things, you two were away from the busyness of the little shops and stands that took over the park and the hordes of people; it had ended up being more crowded than you had expected it to be.

You looked up at Steve and his beanie-covered head. “You do like the candle, right?”

“Yes, I do,” He answered. “It smells really nice. And you made a very compelling case about smelling it in my place when we’re together and doing fun holiday stuff in December so that really sold it for me.”

You could imagine that probably too easily, and that was exactly what you had told Steve. The cinnamon and vanilla scent perfectly defined Fall and Winter in your eyes and it was nice to think about the cozy smell taking over his apartment in LA as you two spent the holidays together for the first time; watching Christmas movies and baking cookies because why not? The thought of doing that, and especially doing it with Steve, warmed your heart. You hadn’t done anything like that in what felt like forever. Instead, you had always figured out a way to busy yourself with work during that time, knowing that you’d just feel lonely otherwise. Now things were very different.

“I can’t wait for that,” You told Steve softly.

He switched his hot chocolate to one hand so that he could wrap an arm around you. “Me too.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then your cold nose and then your lips. Before either of you could make the kiss deeper than the chaste peck that it was, your phone started ringing in the pocket of your coat. 

Reluctantly, you pulled back from Steve and fished your phone out of your pocket. When you saw Jackson’s contact name on your screen, you were quickly both annoyed and worried. He was the director of the documentary and technically your boss, but the entire small crew felt more like family at this point, so that made you feel more inclined to answer the call. 

You sighed, looking away from your phone still ringing, and up at Steve. “I told him that I wouldn’t be available this weekend and he said he’d only call if it was something really important so…”

“It’s okay. Take it,” Steve told you and you gave him a small smile before swiping to answer the call and standing up from the bench. 

For the next ten minutes, Steve watched you on the phone a few feet away, pacing back and forth as you talked because it was too hard for you to be still when you were on a call, especially an abrupt work one. He found you so goddamn adorable; the furrow of your eyebrows and how you’d chew on your lip or become fixated on something as you talked and listened. In this moment, it was the hot chocolate in your hand.  

He loved how serious you got about work, it reminded him of himself in a lot of ways, and he also loved that he got to see both sides of you. The side that happily became consumed by work, and the not-so-serious side where you and he would talk about anything and everything that didn’t involve work. He vividly remembered one night in his bed when you went on the longest tangent about early 2000s music. It was so random and a little weird, but it only made him fall deeper and harder for you. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked you once you were sitting back next to him on the bench and your phone was pocketed away in your jacket again. 

“Yeah, now it’s fine, thank god. Jackson was freaking out because one of the parents wanted to pull her kid out of the entire thing, which would fuck up pretty much everything we’ve been doing for the past few months because she’s one of the main kids that we’ve been following at this performing arts school. According to Jackson, I’m the best at talking to the parents so he put me on a call with the mom, and I managed to convince her to be back on board with everything— I reminded her about how much exposure the documentary is gonna give the school, and in turn her daughter, and she was really happy about that. Apparently, she was getting annoyed that the cameras haven’t been “following them enough” lately, which I think actually has been true, but it’s only because one of the other girls is having more interesting stuff happening right now or something. I don’t really know. But, I told her that that camera time doesn’t really matter because everyone’s gonna get the same amount of screen time in the final cut; which might actually be kind of a lie, I don’t know…” You trailed off with a sigh when you realized how long you’d been talking. “Sorry, now I’m just rambling about nonsense.”

Steve shook his head, smiling at you. “No, I think it’s cute when you ramble about work.”

You two were on the same page about that; there was something about hearing his work stories that had yet to get old to you too. Whether it be about random castmate drama or filming delays, or even stuff outside of filming— like interviews that actually ended up being fun, or ones that had one too many awkward questions— you loved hearing about it all, and Steve was a really great storyteller. 

“If I ever mention wanting to work on something that will involve kids and their parents again, please remind me of this annoying moment,” You said and Steve nodded amusingly at your request. “Oh, and I stress-drank my entire hot chocolate during that phone call, which sucks because I wanted to savor it.” 

“Let’s get you another one and then head back to our sauna for the rest of the night.” 

You laughed at his joke and then nodded. “Solid idea, Harrington.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It was barely nine o’clock when you and Steve fell asleep. You two had cooked a quick meal in the kitchen when you made it back from the park and then promptly ended up in bed, watching a movie with your laptop opened up next to you two because the living room couch wasn’t as comfortable as you thought it would be. 

You two were not even halfway through the movie— some random rom-com that was the first thing you saw when you went to Netflix— when you fell asleep. It was early, but it made sense; Steve had had a long flight from where he had just finished filming in San Francisco and you hadn’t been getting more than five hours of sleep lately because of work.

You honestly didn’t expect to wake up until late in the morning, after you successfully caught up on all the sleep you’d been missing lately with Steve right next to you; you’d come to have the best sleep ever when he was with you. So, when you randomly woke up in the middle of the night, it was because you didn’t feel him next to you. Despite how hot it was in the house, you remembered his arms had been wrapped around you when you fell asleep.

You sleepily opened your eyes and noticed Steve standing in front of his opened suitcase in the corner of the room with his phone pressed to his ear. He was shirtless and had one hand slipped in the pocket of the basketball shorts he was wearing. You were pretty much dressed the same, only in a tank top and a pair of small pajama shorts because it was pretty impossible to wear anything else in the warm house. 

“We’ll figure it out…” Steve said and then you heard him sigh. “She’s sleeping now, so I’ll tell her when she wakes up… Yeah, uh-huh, okay. Bye.”

The call ended and you saw him slip his phone into the pocket of his shorts and then he sighed again, it was a longer and more annoyed-sounding one that time. 

“Tell me what?” You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed, the sheet covering your body slipped down as you moved, but you didn’t mind. 

Steve turned to you and gave you a smile that even in the darkness that took over the bedroom you could see didn’t reach his eyes. You turned on the small lamp that sat on the nightstand next to you to bring some light to the room. 

“Okay, don’t be mad…” He pulled out his phone again as he walked over to sit back next to you on the bed and then handed over his phone. 

The first thing you saw was the headline— Steve Harrington Spotted with Mystery Girl in New York. You scrolled down and there were a series of pictures of you and him at the park; laughing, smiling, smelling a candle at the candle stand, and your hot chocolates in hand moments after you’d gotten them. It felt weird seeing yourself like that; invasive. It was exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

The remaining bit of tiredness you felt was quickly wiped away and you shook your head. “Oh, oh, fuck, I’m an idiot.”

“That’s not true,” You heard Steve say as you still looked at his phone. 

“Yes, I definitely am. I should’ve known this would happen. Why did I think that just because this is a small town, you’d be able to be normal for a couple days?” Now that you were saying it out loud you knew just how stupid that assumption had been, and you were actually surprised that you hadn’t realized that sooner, or that Steve hadn’t called you out on it. “Was that Tom on the phone?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“What did he say?”

“First, he was pissed that he had to find out this way; it was very ‘blindsiding,’ and as my publicist, he should’ve known this huge thing. But, he’s glad that it’s at least you because he likes you,” Steve said and you nodded along to his words. “Second, he wants to know what we want to do about it because there are a bunch of other articles coming out calling you my girlfriend and trying to figure out who you are, and also calling Tom and asking for comments and confirmations and all of that stuff.”

The wheels in your brain were already turning, trying to figure out what to do now that the initial shock had worn off. Your eyes were still solely focused on Steve’s phone because maybe the answer would hit you if you kept staring at the picture of him smiling at you as you took what had been the first sip of your hot chocolate. 

Steve kept going when you were quiet for too long. “Tom said that the pictures aren’t too ‘romantic-looking,’ so he can put denials out if we want.”

You still couldn’t figure out what to say. Your mind was moving a million miles a second but not one coherent thought or solution or anything was forming. 

Steve spoke again after a few moments. “I’m really sorry about all of this.” 

That made you finally look at him; he was leaning back against the headboard and pushing a hand through his hair. “What? Why are you sorry?”

“Because I know this is the opposite of what you wanted to happen.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but it’s not your fault,” You told him, placing his phone down on the bed and scooching closer to him. “At all.”

You didn’t want to get pulled into the spotlight, but it was pretty much inevitable, you were finally realizing now. Being with Steve meant that. There was really no way around it, and the more you thought about it, the more you realized that it was kind of surprising that this actually hadn’t happened sooner.

“Whatever you want to do about this, we can do it,” Steve told you, pulling you out of your thoughts with a reassuring hand squeeze. “I’m used to the bullshit pap stuff and articles talking about me, but you’re not, so we could deny this and forget it happened.”

Maybe he was right and you two could forget about it for now, but something like this was bound to happen again. Steve was only becoming a bigger actor— which made sense because he was insanely good, and you loved telling him that and watching him turn a little red and playfully roll his eyes at you whenever you did.

It meant that more eyes would be on him, so what were the options? Lie and hide your relationship forever? Never go out in public with him again? 

That sounded a thousand times worse than what this article and whatever the other ones were already saying about you and him. 

“I don’t think we should deny it,” You told Steve as you moved even closer to him and settled in his lap, knees on either side of him. “This was bound to happen sooner or later, right? So, maybe it’s okay that it happened now.” 

His warm hands found your hips immediately, slipping in the space where your tank top had ridden up and touching your bare skin. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” You nodded and a part of you wanted to simply leave it at that, but then you continued. “We could deny this and forget about it, but something like this is just gonna happen again.” A playful smile tugged at your lips. “Also, it would probably get really annoying keeping us a secret because I don’t know if you know this, but I love you and I’m planning to be with you for a really, really, really long time.” 

Steve matched your smile. “I do know that, but I also really love hearing it.” 

Your hands came up then, settling on his bare shoulders and then moving to the hair at the nape of his neck. You leaned in, brushing your nose against his and his head tilted upward, closing the final bit of distance between you two. 

The kiss was soft and teasing. Steve’s arms circled around you completely and he pulled you impossibly close to him. You let out a soft sound into his mouth at the feel of your chest brushing against his, the only thing that separated you two was the thin black fabric of your shirt.  

He thumbed at the strap of the tank top for a quick second before slipping it off your shoulder, mouth and tongue still solely focused on you as he did so. 

You finally found it in you to pull away after a moment and you met Steve’s eyes and the small pout quickly taking over his features. “Shouldn’t you be texting Tom?”

He shrugged as if that was the absolute last thing on his mind at this moment; you were pretty certain that you knew what the first thing was. “I’ll do it in the morning.”

You decided against questioning and teasing him further and instead whispered a soft, “Okay,” before leaning in to slot your lips against his once again. 

It didn’t matter that the text hadn’t been sent yet, and it also wouldn’t really matter if it wasn’t sent tomorrow or the day after that. Because it wouldn’t really change anything aside from the obvious; and you were making a mental note to make sure that all of your social media accounts were set to private before you started getting bombarded with the inevitable.

At the end of the day, Steve was yours and you were his, you both were so sure and certain of that fact, and that’s all that mattered right then. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know your thoughts<333

(there's a part of me that really really wants to write holiday stuff with these two and i'm gonna think about that for the rest of the night 🫶🏾)

[whereconfusionisarhyme]

i love that there are a couple traits consistent among seemingly all spider-man variants. their wit, they’re dorky-ness, their intelligence. their queerness

but i think my favorite has got to be their artistic creativity. the og peter parker takes photos, miles draws + graffitis, gwen plays the drums, hobie plays guitar, etc.

which only just adds to the un-spider-man-ness of movie!miguel that he, seemingly, doesn’t have any artistic interest or pursuits. his life is so consumed by this need to justify his trauma and make it useful that he doesn’t have anything to healthily express himself and have fun through. he doesn’t have any room left for any personality because he’s too busy being a leader and a weapon.

this also plays into that quick little line from miles in the counselor's office where he mentions not doing much art anymore,,,he's so consumed by this one mission of his (similar to miguel) to figure out how to travel across universes to meet his friends (falsely thinking that will just automatically solve his loneliness) that he's losing that art that makes him happy, purposefully ignoring it because it's not "useful". i think it's also relevant to note that gwen, the character who's defined by her aimlessness, (literally her only goal is survival. like just the bare minimum of "don't be homeless tomorrow", just simple, normal, human self-preservation) opens the movie by going to town on her drum set. on the opposite end of the spectrum miguel and miles are on, she has no goal at all and is fully leaning into her artistic abilities for comfort. ultimately, the difference lies in where these characters are choosing to find comfort. in the pursuit of a singular goal that suppresses emotion in the name of efficiency, or in moment-to-moment explosive self expression that doesn't ultimately make strides towards an end goal?

(honorable mention: hobie and his music. the guitar, ie his art, symbolic of being in touch with your emotions, is something he keeps close with him and uses productively in pursuit of his goals. it's strong, but focused. he's very in control of it. he has figured out how to hit a perfect balance between the two, adding to this big brother/mentor image in relation to gwen and miles.)

[princesscallyie]

It’s seem like I can’t escape the “people don’t want to come to work so now I gotta do their mess” shenanigans…

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[fingertipsmp3]

Looking at the rota app thinking well. Tomorrow is going to be fascinating

[starlooove]

Btw the reason ur not keeping pace with the remodelers isn’t impossible expectations it’s that ur using all the ppl meant to make the remodel go smoothly to fix ur entire department; the department u let go to shit for the last two weeks bc u knew the remodel was coming.

[indiegame]

i refuse to text out i can't

[rooftops-are-for-towels]

Chronic pain is goated because instead of thinking about the upsetting haunting things I can just lock in and go Ow ow. OW OW oughhhh

[caitlinsnicket]

viktor relationship headcanons

warnings: if you squint, you might see something a little intimate, but other than suggestions, there's nothing.

a/n: surprised myself by not only writing this so quickly but also by not including any filth. wow.

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

He lives for shoulder kisses, treating them as a sort of stress reliever.

You visit his lab, bringing him a cup of tea (to make him sleepier and get him to bed quicker), and as you pass by, you lean down to kiss his shoulder.

Even through his shirt, he can feel your warmth, and as you leave, he manages to relax a little more.

Sometimes, before you go, he'll hold your hand and kiss your knuckles, his lips wandering down your wrist and arm until you start pulling him away from the workbench.

On good days—the days when he doesn’t feel as much pain or discomfort just from breathing—he asks for your help removing the harness he wears around his middle section.

He doesn’t actually need the help, but he loves the way your skin feels against his, especially during such an intimate moment, and he savors every second with you.

Putting the harness back on is a hassle, but it’s easier now because you understand.

It’s one thing to force your help on him, and another to ask if he needs it. He appreciates that you ask—and that you back off when he tells you to.

Another bittersweet aspect of your relationship is that he’s always cold. While it’s uncomfortable for him when he’s alone, it’s the best thing in the world when you’re around.

He’ll shiver slightly, and you’ll appear out of nowhere, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and pulling him close, tucking his hands under your thighs and kissing his nose until he’s boiling hot.

You also insist that he drink more warm beverages (except coffee—you banned that from your apartment ages ago), wear thicker clothes, and even use masks in the lab because his colds are always worse than expected.

Viktor insists he’s a grown man perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but when you hold his hands in yours and blow on them, he swallows his pride and lets you. Your love comes in waves like these, and he’s learned to catch as much of it as he can.

He doesn’t pay much attention to his appearance. While that unintentionally makes him a hundred times more attractive, it becomes a problem as he grows more important. It’s hard to explain that he can’t show up to an important meeting looking disheveled and that he needs to fix his hair before leaving the house.

So, you sit him down on the little bench you use to get ready yourself, using some of your products to tame his hair, smoothing down stray locks and ensuring he looks polished. The entire time, he fights to stay awake because of your gentle touch, eventually resting his face against your belly and breathing you in.

When you’re done, it’s a bit hard to get him up and out the door, but you manage by peppering kisses on his cheeks and nose. His heart races at your affection, and he promises to return as soon as possible so the two of you can be together again.

At some point, while redecorating the apartment for the millionth time, a picture falls out of one of his books: it’s him as a child, holding up a toy boat with a huge smile on his face. The sight makes you momentarily consider starting a family right then and there, so you call him over to show him.

He stutters, trying to snatch the photo from your hands, but you stop him, giggling at his embarrassed expression.

"You were so cute as a kid! I mean, you still are, but you looked so small! Baby Vik!" you tease, and he buries his face in his hands.

You end up framing the photo and hanging it on the living room wall, right beside one of your own.

But his absolute favorite thing the two of you do together is bathing. He never saw the point of it before—showering was easier and more practical—but now, he needs at least one bath a week just to keep going.

You fill the bathroom with bubbles, scents, and soaps, and he gets to sit back and relax with you in the warm water (which soothes his pain) in a dimly lit room. He loves it: your hands gently touching him, the care you take to ensure he’s comfortable and content in the tub, and even washing his hair for him.

He finds it almost pathetic how completely in love he is with you.

[mywritersmind]

WINNING KISS - LN4

summary : lando isn’t used to being a human mirror, but when a pretty girls tells him to hunch down and let her fix her lipstick in the reflection of his glasses, he’s more than happy to oblige.

listen up : no warnings!!

word count : 750

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I can practically feel the music through my veins. The lights of the club are flashing and my friends are laughing and swinging shots back.

I won today. Singapore has been fucking amazing honestly. Besides the whole drowning in sweat thing.

“So…” Max Fewtrell claps a hand on my shoulder, “Taking a girl home tonight, winner?” He teases me as I roll my eyes and sip my drink, “What- You too tired?” he fakes a frown. I didn’t really want to go out tonight but decided it’s sort of a one in a lifetime thing.

“Go find your girlfriend, idiot.” I eye him.

He throws up his arms and laughs, “Gladly!” As he walks away I feel a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. I’m surprised who did it had such force for being so small.

A girl stands in front of me, a pencil in hand and for a second I think she’s going to ask for an autograph, “Bend down a bit!” She tugs on my shirt and I do as I'm told because I'm genuinely so confused and the pretty girl means business.

She takes the sunglasses from my head and pushes them over my eyes, looking directly into them and bringing the pencil to her lips.

The ‘pencil’, I now realize, it’s a makeup product and deposits a dark color to her lips as she uses me as her mirror.

As she’s stood in front of me, my eyes can’t help but analyze her. This club is stuffy and smoky but she’s so close I can see everything she has on.

She’s got messy brown hair, silver jewelry, a mini skirt, a fur jacket, and a white corset top. Something about her feels magnetic. She’s stunning.

My eyes go to her lips which she smacks together before pulling out a proper lipstick, as she runs the makeup over her lips I start to smile a bit. She finishes quickly and doesn’t pauses as she starts to place the makeup back in her back.

I slide the glasses down to hang around my neck, I see the recognition appear on her face, “Shit.” She says confidently, “You’re that guy!”

I laugh a bit, standing up straighter and looking down at her, “Nice to meet you too.”

“Sorry! Everyone’s been talking about you today!” My tongue runs over my teeth, smiling a bit, “Thanks for being my mirror. And- congrats, I guess?”

“Thank you. And no problem, I’d never deprive a pretty girl of her lipstick rights.” This makes her laugh and fuck I want to keep her laughing.

She gets a look in her eye, her arms behind her, and her eyes staring up at me, “Well I appreciate it. Like it?” I look at her lips again and I’m beginning to think this is a trick just to make me want to kiss her.

“I do. It suits you.” Her lips pull into a wide smile and she steps a bit closer. “You know- people are talking about me for a reason.” I say, building myself up a bit.

She squints, “Right… A win?” I nod, “You’re celebrating then?”

I nod again, “A bit boring though… if only there was a girl to make my night better.”

She scoffs, “Suppose you want a winning kiss then?” I eye her, sipping my drink once more. My eyes flick to her lips but she doesn’t stop looking at me.

“I mean- your lipstick would look great on me.” I say smugly as she stops herself from smiling, humming and nodding.

“Would it?” She says into my ear, the club getting louder with the music.

“Suppose we’ll have to check and see.” I say in her ear this time and when I pull back, I can tell she’s trying to figure me out.

She hums again, leaning in close and slipping her hand onto my neck. Her cool rings practically sting my hot skin. She turns my head slightly, I feel her stand taller to softly kiss my cheek.

When she pulls away, I’m smirking again, “Let me get your number.” I don’t even ask it as a question.

She pulls the lipliner out of her bag once more, uncapping it with her teeth and taking my arm. She scrolls the numbers slowly against my arm, holding me close.

When she’s done and there’s red numbers up my arm, she closes the product and smiles kindly, saying “Congratulations, winner.” before walking away.

[prael]

A Bargain To Remember

Kinktember Day 13: Car sex

(G)I-DLE Miyeon x male reader smut

words: 4,950 Kinktember Masterlist

"Finally, a face to the name."

You know all about Miyeon, of course. She's the type of girl whose face is plastered on every screen and every street in every corner of the galaxy, a darling of the interplanetary conglomerates. From the spaceports to even the most downtrodden of back-alleys, you can probably find her face on some poster or flyer or some massive digital billboard high above you—those corporate powers that be sure want to squeeze as much out of her as possible.

The surprise is that she knows you.

Of course, it's on those screens, or the ones at home, or the ones in their pockets, that most people become acquainted with a girl like Miyeon. Those glossy eyes, her effervescent smile, her delicate but fierce features, of course, they leave an impression. They sell you dreams, products and promises. That's why you can find her all over the place—but the versions of her you can interact with— ones to purchase and enjoy—are another beast altogether.

"Can I help you, miss?" you feign ignorance of her identity as she takes the chair at the other end of your desk.

"I would like to make a purchase."

"A purchase? From me? What could I possibly offer to someone like you? I sell scrap electronics to junkies and fix the broken implants of low-life thugs. How could that possibly interest you?"

She crosses her legs, and says, "Don't play with me. I have seen your work, quite the artist you are, though I wouldn't say you exactly have my mannerisms down. The curve of my mouth, the cadence of my voice—not exactly up to par with the real deal. But as fakes go, you do well with what you have."

You scratch at the back of your head and then catch a bead of sweat forming at your temple, "Think you have the wrong guy, miss. You're talking AI and Virts here. Not my thing, definitely not my forte."

She's quiet as you look around at anything but her face. The grey concrete walls and steel beam of the roof are awfully fascinating suddenly, and then the holos playing on loop above the screens of your makeshift booth—really anything than to have to admit that your life's work consists of making and selling forgeries of people like her. She knows why she's here—the least you could do is be brave and admit to your craft.

"I tried your work myself. Quite the experience. Can't say I ever planned on fucking myself—but well, there's a first time for everything I guess."

There's enough power across your desk to not only shut you down and make it so the only tech you would ever touch again is a pair of electrified cuffs at best, and at worst she could have you put down and silently disposed.

Miyeon continues, "As I say, it wasn't entirely accurate, I'm not actually that loud or aggressive, for the record. But it was fun, so if you're thinking I'm about to expose you, not the case—I'm actually here to invest in your skill. Your art is fun, and I dare say your tastes in women, are spot on."

You let out a small nervous laugh and then say, "I don't usually take requests."

Her pink-painted lips, the gloss shimmering slightly from the bright fluorescent overhead light, form into a delicate, mischievous grin. "I'm willing to make you an offer, one you won't refuse. You get me what I want, and I'll license your work. Think about it. An official Miyeon VirtueX™, think of how lucrative an asset that could be. The whole galaxy's lining up to get a taste—and you would be the only real supply."

You lean forward in your chair to peer at her and ask, "Let's say I was who you think I am, what is it that you want from me?"

"What I want from you," she pauses and tilts her head, her eyes glance across your features briefly and her tongue traces the edges of her teeth. "Is to show me the past." She places a drive on the desk—old-tech, the kind that would never run on any kind of systems that are sold today. "You can get this working, right?"

"Is that a government stamp?" You point to the symbol on the drive. "I plug that in and I'll have execution squads here in under a minute."

"It's all above board. Officially disposed and untracked. I just need to live it, once." Her voice is quiet and pensive.

"Alright. Deal. But those two lumps of metal you call bodyguards have to stay out there, and you're coming through to my studio. If I'm gonna help, you have to play by my rules."

She flashes you a winning smile. You thought you had her pegged down but all this has proved you wrong—there was more to Miyeon than the flashy clothes and the blinding lights, a lot more. And your curiosity is getting the better of you now.

"You know, you're only the third person to ever step in here," you open up the secret passage into the back room, and gesture for Miyeon to step in.

You close the door behind you both and feel the heavy metal slide lock with a hiss.

"The first was me, naturally, and the second left it in a body bag a few years ago."

She doesn't flinch, just brushes past you and sits on the edge of your desk, running a finger along the steel as if surveying the conditions of your equipment. "Hard to imagine you make the stuff you do from a place like this," she says.

"The drive," you say as you hold out a hand.

She passes it over and you examine the shape and material. Most drives these days are designed to interface with neural implant ports or organic docks directly—this is true vintage work. It might have been what some would have called groundbreaking tech a hundred or so years ago. You hook the little device up to your primary work machine and start running tests.

She slides off the table, her hands resting on your shoulders. She bends down, her body pressed into yours as she murmurs near your ear. "How is it?"

"A mess. But a fixable mess. Should have something you can use soon enough."

Miyeon breathes gently in your ear before placing a hand on your arm, "Please, whatever you do, do not look at the contents. It's personal, just let me view it, and live it, one last time. Then you can lock it away again for all eternity and erase the copy from your server. And then you get exactly what you want from me."

You breathe in deeply, a mixture of her perfume and the thick oily scent of hot electronics flooding your brain. "Whatever, it's none of my business anyway. Now take a seat will you." You nod to the chair on the other side of the room.

The drive whirrs softly and a data scan runs to gather all the fragmented encryptions left behind on the device. Miyeon lies flat back on your chair and waits for you to connect her—she holds out her forearm expectantly.

"Come on then," she smiles sweetly and pulls a loose curl behind her ear.

You clamp your eyes tight and inhale. "Here goes nothing." You run the system at the push of a button and all the data you scraped compiles in a memory, one for Miyeon and Miyeon alone to relive. You walk over, drawing the connection from the chair and readying to insert it into her arm. "Connections like these, they can hurt, okay? Are you ready?"

"Do it." She's insistent.

A quick stab of your fingers later and the tiny prongs slide into the barely visible organic slot on her skin. Her head tosses violently and for the first time, there's fear on her face. But as soon as you have her connected, her eyelids begin to flutter. You sit a while, watching her as a million synapses all spark to life behind rolling eyes—whatever the moment is, she is in it. You leave her in peace and sit back at your workstation, waiting.

There's an artificial sensation of the atmosphere becoming slightly humid all around, the lights are a soft pastel blue, and the world is swathed in cotton wool. Silent. You find yourself completely frozen in time. It drags and yet somehow comes to a finish just as you're still adjusting to the quietude.

Miyeon's connection beeps and you turn around, removing the port from your system. She pulls the connection from her arm.

"So, tell me, was it worth the trip down memory lane? You get everything you wanted?" You unplug the old-school hardware and await the confirmation that all the corrupted data's safely expunged from your hard drives.

"Almost everything. But most things, in the end, never get a happy ending, do they?"

"Sounds heavy. The stuff that happened on there, pretty rough, huh."

Her pupils are dilated, the whites of her eyes flooded red. "Like you wouldn't believe." Miyeon climbs from the chair, finding her feet back in the real world after living in another for a precious few minutes. She blinks twice and there's a distinct film over her corneas.

"So that's it? My end of the bargain was fulfilled. And I get my licensed content?"

Miyeon turns and you wonder if that's a tear that's been cast down her cheek. "Sealed and guaranteed. Now let's give you some real data to work with. The right anatomical model, an authentic Miyeon behavioural pattern, every single unique vocal calibration, every erogenous spot, every subtle expression in real-time—have it all. One more condition. I have another memory, a real one in my head, if you make me relive that, you can record it and scrub every detail you need. Are we agreed?"

You nod. "Done. Sit there and we'll connect."

"You're going to manually record?"

"How do you think I get it all so accurate?" you tell her with a smug smile.

She sits and gives a nod. "If it's got to be done." You take a seat behind her, and you both reach over your shoulder to pull the neural connector into your napes and slot them in.

A brief flash of many realities as you slip into her consciousness and she welcomes you to her memory.

A calm setting, sitting in a car, you were driving and she's in the passenger seat. You're parked beside a winding hillside road and looking out over a city. A city you don't recognise. Miyeon's fingers dancing across your thigh with a suggestive gentleness, a sly smile.

"Where are we?" you ask.

"Seoul." Miyeon smiles.

"When are we?"

"2024."

"2024? That's over seventy years ago!"

She laughs. "Yeah? You wanted the real authentic Miyeon, didn't you?"

"Sure, but in 2024? That's just unbelievable. You look the same. How are you so—"

She leans close and traces a finger across the line of your jaw. She stares directly into your eyes and says, "We'll worry about the details later. Right now, you want what I've promised, and you've come this far, so you know what has to be done. We're already where we need to be."

Your senses are engulfed in an emotion and memories that are not your own. All a simulation and all a vivid and overwhelming experience. You're in love with her, that's the overriding feeling—the feeling of whoever she was really with at this time.

"This is the memory of the best sex of my life." She leans close to whisper to you. "So do try your best."

"This is just..." You don't get to finish, she's grabbed your shirt and pulled you close. She kisses you deeply. There is nothing of the daintiness or composure that you're used to, you've lost all your will and she is dragging you out of control. You find yourself consumed with an overwhelming and perplexing ecstasy and the idea of restraint or of reason seems unimportant now. You're driven purely by passion and by instinct—she has to have you and you have to have her, it's almost a compulsion. She's yanking off her seatbelt and reaching for your trousers, clawing at them desperately.

And just like that, you're scrambling at each other's clothes, almost frantic. You have the sensation of her breath across your face, the heat of her lips against your skin. Hands, everywhere. Exploring the curves of her body. A hungry desperation to peel back every layer of fabric to feel more, and more of her. She bites your bottom lip and looks at you with pleading eyes.

"I want you and I want you now." Her lips move like liquid lust and her hand like electricity, the energy tingles when she wraps her fingers around your cock and pulls it free from your pants.

She gasps and then giggles as if pleasantly surprised, a cute and kittenish squeal, she hums with her own approval of her actions.

"I'll be gentle," she whispers, her eyes shining with mischief. She rubs you from tip to base, taking the full length, slowly and teasingly over and again until the blood's pumping and you're at full salute. She's on her knees in the passenger seat and leaning over you. A smirk on her lips, she goes lower and lower still, her tongue warm and wet. Taking your crown into her mouth and enveloping you, her pace slow but sure.

Your hand in her hair, not to control or pressure, just to feel her in the moment. Encourage her, caress the back of her neck and appreciate every moment of pleasure. She takes you deep, deeper into her throat, the heat of her lungs, the power in her movements as she comes off and plunges again and again. It's effortless and instinct, and not for anything other than her own desire to please, and that itself is thrilling, you have to admit.

It's a strange new world for you to have sex without the enhancements of technology. It's so raw.

You sigh and whimper at every suckling pull, your nerve endings raw and singing. Her palms firmly pressing down onto the tops of your thighs, her movements grow slower, more sensual but she sucks harder, the vibrations from the moans of her enjoyment humming through the root of your shaft—fuck, it feels so fucking good, too good. She releases you with a slight gasp for air and a drooling line of spit.

She wipes her lips with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Outside, now." Miyeon doesn't hesitate. Her shirt pulled off and tossed into your face and she's leapt over to the rear passenger door, flinging it open wide, the warm night air rushes in to greet you, along with the sound of crickets. She slams the door shut and you open yours.

You climb out and head to meet her at the front of the car, she's already leaning against the metal hood. The car is one of those muscle cars from back at the time, a real classic ride that suits a woman like her. "Hey you," she rubs her hands against the metal as she leans forward and sprawls herself over it. "Get behind me already," her tongue dancing across her red-stained lips, her chest heaving in excitement, you're as hot and as hard as you'll ever be.

Miyeon tilts her head, watching you closely with half-opened eyes, her pretty pink tongue sticks out between her perfect teeth, and a teasing wink follows. She wiggles her hips, an inviting gesture, her skirt raised to reveal the gentle wobble of her cheeks—she doesn't have underwear, what a perfect minx she is—all bare for you.

She runs a hand down over the hem of her skirt and then raises it fully up over the top of her ass. As glorious as the very stars overhead. You have an overwhelming urge to run your hands across her bare flesh and as you take the first steps towards her, you find your arms reaching and touching and tracing every inch of skin that's exposed.

You run your hands over her cheeks, spreading them, kneading them, Miyeon's letting out soft little noises, encouraging you, inciting you—but fuck, this view... it's exquisite. It's so clear now, that all those fakes, the painstaking hours of recreation, simply did not live up to the real deal, and not just the view, everything is magnitudes superior.

You smooth your palm between her thighs and you part them, pulling her ass to the edge, sliding her legs open, watching as her wetness shines. "Just how badly do you want me?" you ask her.

"Look at me, how can you say something like that? Of course, I fucking want you. I hate having to wait. Come and fuck me."

You guide your cock to sit between her cheeks and rock into it gently, enjoying how those perky cheeks cradle your length and the way her whole body rocks with every movement. "Is it wrong that I love watching you squirm?" you ask, running the palm of your hand over the bare skin, digging your fingers in, grasping a handful and appreciating how it yields under your fingertips.

"Only wrong if I mind, and I don't," Miyeon groans, lifting her hips against you and smothering your dick in her deliciously juicy flesh. She is irresistible. "So what are you waiting for," her voice soft and suggestive. "Go on, you know you want to. You know how much I need it."

You grit your teeth and trace her lips with the tip of your cock, and it's like lightning flashing between you both. Fuck. Her lips are so wet and hot—they're so tantalisingly puffy. She wiggles and gyrates against you as you rest inside her opening. She groans and you're shuddering.

You slide the first few inches and gasp. You both moan softly together as you glide in, she's so much tighter than you had imagined she might feel—every inch that slides inside makes her clench you more.

"Yes," Miyeon is urgent and breathy, her muscles are contracting as though attempting to swallow your entire length. And she's hungry for it. "That's it baby, nice and deep," her words as electrifying as the sensation of her snug walls quivering as she clings on with greed.

"Like this?" you whisper in her ear as you lean over and pin her petite frame against the metal, letting her feel you, all of you. Every inch. And as she moans and shivers under the weight of your body. Your hands reach her shoulders and your fingertips find her neck, circling and caressing and massaging in all the right places—she turns her head as far round as she's able to gaze at you as she hums and gasps with each rolling movement of your hips.

Her teeth biting her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed pink, a complete dream in motion. Her body arches as she urges and wills herself back on you. You groan in return. Everything about her feels unreal in its perfection. She's squeezing against your cock, and her most hidden recesses begin to melt for you.

Miyeon cums like this, and it's without warning. She tenses, her eyes go wide and her mouth hangs open—her silky tunnel clamps tight as a vice grip. And the way she gushes all over you, covering you, she can barely breathe, she can barely let out a cry or a single noise, only ragged breathing as you hold her firmly in place and fuck her through it.

You fuck her without shame or inhibition. She whimpers, a feeble cry, every thrust powerful and deliberate. Miyeon moans what feels like your name and you give another forceful snap of your hips, both hands firmly on her slim and shaking waist. There are no words that can possibly encapsulate her.

"That's it," her breath erratic and shaky. She grinds her ass into you with every forward push, working into a perfect rhythm and going balls-deep with each pump. "Hard." You slam against her ass, the clapping sound of skin against skin—it fills the warm and humid air.

Miyeon cums again. So fucking easy to make her cum. Her beautiful brown eyes are desperate with desire. She shakes, she is panting, "Just like that, keep doing exactly that and I'll lose my damn mind. God, you feel so fucking big."

She's limp now, just taking rough, powerful and blissful strokes—her cries a series of hoarse grunts and weak moans.

You grab her by the waist, hard, she lets out a yelp, and then you're manhandling her, throwing her delicate figure over onto her back. There they are, those perfect little tits, grown red being forced against the metal of the car. Her soppy mess drips out from her thoroughly fucked hole.

"This, is all you wanted right?" You gather her legs and thrust them roughly up and over your shoulders, sliding easily back inside. Her pussy gushing and absolutely soaking. "A good rough fucking. You just love to be used don't you, baby. This is the side of you I've been missing, seeing how you have always been so prim and proper in front of everyone."

"That was your problem, all those homemade VirtueXs made me all commanding when I really just love to be taken." Her breaths are ragged.

"Maybe that's just how I'll be selling you in future then," you say.

She gives a throaty chuckle. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but for now," Miyeon takes a tight hold of her knees, and draws them against her chest. "Make me cum again, please."

You have her absolutely filled with every inch of cock and stretched tight with every savage drive of your hips, again, and again, and again. Sweat forms a light film over every curve and groove of her form. She's gorgeous, she's taking it, and she's loving it. "Let me feel you cum," she breathes between pumps and thrusts, her fingers kneading the flesh of her thighs as she spreads herself as open as is physically possible.

A combination of pressure and adrenaline, you're hammering deep. Miyeon is groaning and pleading. A loud moan, a series of short sharp exhales and whimpers. Those narrow hips are trembling, her slim thighs shake, toes are curled. Her orgasm and invitation for you to join her come as a surge.

You explode. Locked, sheathed so deep and full, you fill her. "Cum so much..." Miyeon sighs in awe. Your climax is euphoria.

Both a sweating, quaking mass of interlocked limbs, you pull away and your drenched cock slips out. "How are you real," you exhale. "Never felt anything like you."

"I am one of a kind." Miyeon laughs gently to herself. "Now let's get back in there and you can fuck me some more."

You're in the backseat now, Miyeon's slender body climbing all over you. She leans in and takes your lips, her sticky lip gloss and the sweet taste of her mouth as she invades with her tongue and leads yours into a frenzy. Her fingertips drag down across your chest. She's positioning herself over your cock.

The beauty of simulation is there's no recovery, only the chasing of the next orgasm, and she's keen to provide the means. She takes you with her eyes closed, a small, grateful moan and she slides herself slowly up and down. Your head arches back with a cry as she holds onto your shoulders and glides her lips down over your shaft.

"Gonna ride you," she whispers as she rocks herself in time with the rise and fall of your breaths. "Ride you until you explode again." Your fingertips squeeze into the supple curves and muscles of her torso.

It is a euphoric ecstasy. Miyeon looks perfect riding a dick. She sinks down low, grinding back and forth. She moves like waves, her hair stuck against her cheek. You take hold and move the strands out of the way, before trailing down the bare skin of her neck and to her tits, groping them firmly.

"Been so long since I last got to do this. Missed how big you are." She grasps the headrest as the speed and intensity of her motions increase. "Yeah, that's it, baby."

Her eyes flutter and her head starts to fall further and further back. Erratic, out of control, wild—she starts slamming her ass down hard. Fucked-slack and oozing, her juices dripping down. She's growing quiet and you watch her expression transform, her eyes turn glassy. You watch her face strain in her pleasure, it's a wonderful sight—pure bliss. Then she erupts into moans as her body convulses and spasms, and all you can do is hold her steady, her hole throbbing tight around you. She gasps, desperate for oxygen, every fibre and nerve singing in harmony.

From one, right into chasing the next, Miyeon lifts herself, turns, presents her ass to you and sits back on your cock. You watch it slip up between her cheeks and disappear inside her cunt once more, she hums a content sigh and leans forward. Miyeon braces herself against the window of the car, looking over her shoulder as she moves.

Her groin rocks and grinds on your shaft in a rolling motion and it's heaven itself. That cute, perky ass smacks on your groin in a sensual motion. Her hand snakes between her legs. Her moans grow in strength and volume. Wet, slippery, soft, Miyeon's fucking you and riding herself to her own orgasm. She starts to tremble. You start to tremble. She's squirming wildly, desperate for her climax, that gorgeous cunt squeezing every inch and driving you crazy.

And you lose it. Another intense explosion that makes you clasp onto her ass and hold it steady. A groan rips through your entire body, and you empty everything you have. She cums the instant she feels the heat spread through her. A unified orgasm. Pure heavenly relief. The energy seems to drift into the air and the car rattles beneath you both. It is incredible. The euphoria is otherworldly.

"Tell me that was good," she asks softly.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Again. Again. Please, one more time?"

"It's your head, sweetie. Have at it."

"Hmm, I suppose it is. Then I want to sit on you, and I want it in my ass." Miyeon giggles and slips herself off you, a mixture of your cum and hers falling down her thighs.

"Whatever the fuck you want," you groan, delirious as Miyeon pulls you up to the seat and then takes her place on your lap, she spread her legs out over yours and you take her hips, guiding her ass onto your cum-soaked cock. Everything is a fucking blur but the sensations are turned up to eleven, and there is nothing else that is comparable.

You plant kisses on her hot, sweaty back as you slide her down onto your length. She's twitching, and squirming. You hear her let out a soft gasp of delight at the invasion. The tightness, the constricting squeeze is just...

"Oh yes..." Miyeon breathes softly. "Let me... let me do the work now, let me fuck this big hard dick with my tight ass." She circles her hips, drawing on your cock with a slow, tight, merciless motion. Your world starts spinning all over again. She's slick with sweat, her cheeks grinding on your thighs, the scent and the sex drives you fucking wild. "What a perfect dick. I could do this all day."

You lean your head forward, and sink your teeth into the muscle of her shoulder—a flurry of loud moans from Miyeon as she bounces on your shaft. The sloppy sounds, the music of her pleasures, the clapping slap, it's insane and exhilarating. You lick her sweat from her flesh, tasting her.

She's slick and stretched, clamping around your cock as her pace quickens and turns ragged and urgent. It's a whole other level, it's unparalleled and all-consuming. You're just about ready to blow inside her ass.

"Hold onto me," She pants, grasping your left wrist and bringing it over to her mouth, placing your fingertips upon her tongue and sucking. It is lewd and erotic and exciting and your insides begin to churn and ache.

There's no stopping you now, you erupt again, gripping her waist as your hips buck up on instinct, jamming yourself deep and blowing. Miyeon moans around your fingertips—taking your load while still rubbing her swollen little clit.

"Yes, I love it when I make you cum like that," she murmurs, sliding herself slowly off your half-mast cock and crawling off your lap. She throws herself down on the seat in a heap, peering down at the thick mess of cum dripping out of her freshly fucked orifices, a dazed smile, satiated.

You blink and try to get her into focus but it's to no use—she blurs and vanishes before your eyes. And soon, you're back. Your workshop, in your chair, and still hooked into Miyeon. Still sitting back-to-back, your foreheads damp, breathing hard and ragged. The lights flickering a bright electric blue.

"Incredible," you breathe.

Miyeon sighs. "Yeah..." She detaches the link from behind her ear. Miyeon climbs to her feet, shakily making her way around your workspace. "I'm such a mess," She says, touching under her dress.

"Fuck, yeah me too," you sit there trying to process what just happened.

"I want a copy. The whole thing." Miyeon places a card down on the desk.

"I'll get started."

[monzabee]

the smallest man who ever lived - cl16

masterlist || part 2 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where you’re thrown into a conundrum when you learn the news of your husband, Charles’, infidelity.

Pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader; carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, cheating, crying, manipulation(?), charles is an absolute asshole (but so is the reader) (but she’s kinda also badass?) (toxic relationship?), even more assholish carlos (gasp), blackmail, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation (literally just pushing someone off but still)

Request: “Hey girl can I request something angsty with Charles? Maybe Charles cheating on Y/N (we’re already famous and have been married to Charles for years) and the fighting, the finding out, his guilt, angst, etc.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you to the anon who requested this because i had the time of my life working on it, and it might be the first fic i wrote in one go for the last six months or so!! also thank you to the getting cheated on playlists i found on spotify and amy dunne for giving me the inspiration to make the reader as toxic as i could. special thanks to @norrisleclercf1 and @percervall who had to listen to me talk about this fic NONSTOP. this is definitely something very different to what i usually write, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

There are moments in life where you feel like a complete and utter idiot. Although it could be for no apparent reason at all, there is a perfectly explainable reason why you feel like that right now, in the middle of your trailer on the set, with your manager and publicist both looking at you like you could explode at any given moment. It took you a good amount of time to wrap your head around the news, the news that wrecked you into a million of pieces which left you as the only person who can put them back together.  

“Let me get this straight,” you start, still trying to wrap your head around the news, “they were photographed leaving the club, and there’s a–?” 

“Sex tape, yes.” Your manager mumbles, earning himself a side-eye from your publicist. “It was so kindly attached to the email.”  

“And it is anonymous?” You ask, earning curt nods from both. “Well,” you manage to get out, pressing your lips together not to let out a sob, or a laugh, both? “That is very ambitious of him.” 

Your publicist shares a concerned look with your manager, then turns to you, “I guess so? How would you want us to handle this? I can buy us some time until these are released to public, but I think getting a statement ready just in case is essential given the fact that both of you are public figues. We can say that you’ll attend marriage councelling–” 

Your loud laugter cuts her off in the middle of her sentence. “And just why would we do that?” 

“I–” She gives you another concerned look as she softens her voice, which is quite uncharacteristic for her, you realise. “How would you want us to approach it then?” 

“I don’t want you to approach it at all.” You voice cuts through the tension, your gaze fixed on her. “I’ll handle it.”  

“But Charles–” She tries to reason, but you cut her off again.  

“Decided to get his dick wet where it certainly didn’t belong, he’s a big boy – he’ll survive.” Fixing her with a final look, you turn to your manager instead. “I don’t want this going to Charles or his team’s ears, that’s what the email said, and we should honour it, no?”  

His expression turns into a smirk, matching the one playing on your lips as he nods in thougt, “Would you like us to do anything else? We can talk with the production if you need a couple of days to… well, recuperate. Greta would understand.” 

“No.” Your answer is final as you shake your head. “She thinks this is an Oscar worthy project, I’m not throwing it away because my husband decided to think with his dick and not his brain. Just call my lawyers and tell them to be on stand by.” 

“Should I also book you tickets to Monaco still?” He asks in a monotone tone. 

“Well of course,” you reply in a sweet voice, widening your eyes for dramatic effect, “it’s a family event.” 

Your publicist eyes the both of you, “Okay,” as she drags the word out, “are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of days off?” 

“Positive. I have an EGOT to win.” Raising the script you have in your hands in the air, you announce, “I have lines I need to go over, is that all?”  

And as they leave your trailer to give you some space to ‘go over your lines’, you let a few tears escape your eyes, promising yourself that you would make Charles feel a thousand worse what he made you feel in the moment. 

It is not surprising or a sudden revelation that Monte Carlo has good weather all year around. But as it happens with the last few weeks following you learning about your husband’s infidelity, all you feel is cold – and no amount of warm weather is enough to make your heart feel warmer again. As you stand at the terrace of Café de Paris, overlooking the cityscape of Monte Carlo, all you can think about is how you just want to get this part of you plan over with as fast as possible.  

“Chérie!” The voice you hear makes a lump perpetually situate itself in the middle of your throat, but you brace yourself for the worst as you turn on your heels to face the person you’re most scared of facing in this whole situation. “Look at you, you look incroyable! You had me scared when you told me you were catching the redeye, and that we just had to talk!” 

“Pascale,” you breathe out as the woman pulls you into her arms with the warmness of any mother would do, and for that brief moment, you feel better than you have in weeks. “It’s so nice to see you again,” giving her the warmest smile you can muster up in the circumstances as you pull back, fixing your gaze at the figure behind her as you nod your head in acknowledgement, “Arthur.” 

“Maman is right,” Arthur says as he opens his arms, “you do look good.”  

“Well, thank you.” You reply as you give him a quick hug, and motion the table as you pull back. “Shall we?” Call it common curtesy, or cowardice, the fact that you don’t directly get to the point. Either way, you talk about what you’ve missed in the couple of months in which you’ve been away filming. You’re not necessarily paying attention, though the endtail of Pascale’s sentence catch your attention. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?” 

“Well, I was just telling how sad I was that Charles doesn’t come home as often this season. Though I understand he’s coming out to see you on set, distance can be so hard even for–” 

“He’s not coming out to see me, Pascale.” You voice is softer, and appears more broken than you would want it to be, but your words convey the message enough. It takes you a couple of moments to organise your thoughts, and Arthur calling out your name, to get you back into the moment. “There’s something I need to talk with the both of you, something I’ve already talked with Lorenzo, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me.”  

“Okay?” Arthur mumbles, then gives you a supportive smile, “You can tell us anything. Though don’t tell me I’m about to be an uncle because I don’t think my ego can take it at the–” 

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you direct your words to the woman sitting across from you. “I’m divorcing your son, and I thought you should hear it from me and not him.”  

It takes a few minutes for both Pascale and Arthur to say something, and it concerns you that you somehow managed to give your mother in law a brain aneurism, but eventually, she manages to get out, “What? How? Why? Are you okay?”  

“I’m… fine.” You reply, albeit it comes off calculated. “I found a couple of weeks ago that he was cheating on me, I’ve came back to give him the papers myself.”  

“He what?” Arthur exclaims, then realises the level of his voice, and lowers it down as he asks, “Are you sure this is not a misunderstanding? The guy has been in love with you for over a decade, he wouldn’t do this.” With a resigning sigh, you find what you’re looking for in your phone and hand it over to Arthur. Who then, upon seeing what you have pulled up, immediately hands it back to you and turns to his mother, “Trust me you don’t want to see it.” 

“I’ve came to tell you the news, and well, to apologise.” You turn to face Pascale again.  

“Apologise?” She repeats, “Why on earth would you apologise to me when my son cheated on you?” 

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since we’ve met, both of you.” You acknowledge Arthur with a look, and then focus your attention back on the woman, “Though I will make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire in any way, I wanted to apologise for what I’m about to put your son through.”  

You honestly don’t know how you manage to act as if everything has been going fine in your life during race day. Given the fact that your husband doesn’t expect you to be at his race due to your rigorous filming schedule, and his family members being willing to hide your existence from him, you have no obstacles in your way to carry out the rest of your plan in motion. Which is exactly why you’re sat in the dark, waiting for your husband to walk through the doors of your apartment overlooking the city. With you seemingly being absent for the weekend, he has no reason to not believe that he is coming to an empty house.  

So, imagine his surprise when he enters his home; with his girlfriend in his arm, no less, and sees his wife sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand. The look on his face is priceless, and despite all the pain and frustration you’re feeling, it manages to bring you some semblance of joy, knowing that it’s going to hurt him just as much as it hurt you.  

“Ma chérie,” Charles stammers, eye wide as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, “I – I didn’t know y–you were coming back this weekend.” 

“Well obviously,” you scoff, taking a generous sip from the drink in the glass tumbler in your hand, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring your little girlfriend into my house to fuck her.” You hear a gasp from the scaredy brunette wedging herself closer to your husband’s side, and for the first time you take a good look at her – young, much younger than you, tall, leggy; all the telltale signs that she is exactly your husband’s type. Tilting your head to the side, you rest the glass on the arm of the armchair you’re sitting in, “If you could leave now, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

You hear Charles whisper something in her ear, probably telling her to leave and that he’ll contact her tomorrow, and watch as she gives him a scowl, screeching, “You’re just going to let her throw me out?” 

“Well, considering the fact that this is my house, yes.” You give her a look of pity, watching her face light up with anger.  

“Listen to me, you bitch–” She starts, but your husband quickly cuts her off.  

“Mon cœur!” He exclaims, “S'il te plaît!” 

“Yes, listen to him, like a good little girl,” you egg her on, a smirk widening on your lips as you start swinging the leg resting on your lower one, choosing to focus on your nails instead of your husband trying to soothe his lover. 

You hear her scoff, take a few steps as her heels click on the marble floor of the entrance, “I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you, I’m not someone you want to be on bad terms with, considering the fact that he’s going to leave you for me!” 

“Oh, honey,” you coo, focusing your attention back on her and seeing the look of concern in your husband’s face through the corner of your eye, “and when did he tell you that, like a year ago? Two? Three?” A realisation dawns on her face as the smug expression starts to fade. “Don’t worry, though, you can have him when I’m done with him.” Pushing yourself off the armchair, you down the rest of the drink in the glass before slamming it down onto the glass coffee table. “And not only do I not care if you think I'm a bitch, but I hugely prefer it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call security and get your ass thrown out.”  

You watch as she looks at Charles with indignation, lets out another screeching sound and slams the door behind her as she stomps out of your apartment. Only then you turn your gaze back to your husband, who has the guts to look at you with a worried look on his face. “How long have you known?” Is the first thing he asks you, taking a few steps closer.  

“A couple of weeks, a month, maybe?” You answer him, leaving your place to get to the small bar in the corner of your living room to get another refill of your drink. “There’s a video of the two, it somehow got into my hands, and it has very graphic details of the two of you having sex.” Popping a lemon into your cup, you make your way back to the armchair and sit down, “Are you stupid enough to cheat on me and make a fucking sex tape, Charles?” 

“I-I didn’t mean to–” He tries to plead, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.  

“You didn’t mean to what?” You ask him; your voice soothing, almost understanding, and it does the job of fooling him. “Cheat on me? Fuck another woman in my bed? Break the vows you’ve made?”  

“Ma chérie,” he whispers, “please.” 

“No.” Your voice is colder all of a sudden. “Tell me how long this has been going on for. Was I right? How many years?” 

“It started five years ago,” his voice is soft, somber and he tries to appear as genuine as he can in the situation, you suppose, “but I knew her, from before...” 

“Before what?” You’re seething now, the complete opposite of his calmness, “Did you fucking cheat me when we were dating, Charles?” 

“Ma chérie,” he gives you another pleading look, “please, I can change. I’ll go to therapy.”  

Now that, manages to get a bark of laughter from you. It’s ripped from the back of your throat, making you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the laughter to the point that there are tears in your eyes when you finally manage to calm yourself down. Putting the glass down on the coffee table once again, you wipe them off, mindful of your mascara, as you shift your attention back onto your husband. “Are fucking kidding me right now?” He gives you a concerned look, hands on his hips as he opens his mouth to answer you, but you quickly shut him down again. “You were bringing her into my house to fuck her, I caught you, I have your fucking sex tape – which is going to be streamlined for the world to see within twenty-four hours, do you honestly think I would go back to you?”  

“Wait, what?” He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “What do you mean they are going to streamline it, why didn’t you go to the lawyers? 

“I did go to the lawyers,” you shrug, innocently, “my lawyers,” you point out. “Why would I cover up your mistakes after everything you’ve done?” 

“Because I’m your fucking husband!” He barks, his arms widening to his sides as he finally loses his mask and his composure.  

His little tantrum only makes you let out another laugh, “Now, you’re my husband? Not when you’re cheating on me when I’m away shooting, but when you need me to clean up after your mistakes?” 

“How did you even get the video?” He asks, eyes narrowing down, “Who- who– who?” 

“Who? Who? Hoo? What are you, a fucking owl?” You exclaim, this time raising your voice. “You’re honestly more concerned about where I got it and not about the fact that the entire world is about to see you fucking someone other than your wife?” 

“What are we doing to do?” He asks, “Fuck, I have a race tomorrow.” 

“We’re not going to do anything.” You shrug, leaning forward to grab the glass and take another sip, “Or scratch that, we’re actually going to do something.” You stand up from the armchair, walk towards the table and hand him the file. “Congratulations, we’re getting a divorce.” 

“That is not happening.” He scoffs, not even bothering to look at the papers.  

“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with me, Charles.” You seethe, “You’re going to sign the damn papers, and you’re also going to sign away your rights to the baby.”  

“What the–?” He looks at you in disbelief, “You’re pregnant?” 

“Congratulations, it’s a boy.” You bite out, “Like you wanted.” 

“You’ve been drinking the entire night.” He points to the glass, “Do you expect me to believe you’re pregnant?” 

Offering him a sweet smile you hand him the glass, tipping it towards him, “It’s soda water, would you like a sip?” 

“Don’t make me do this,” he pleads, “give me another chance.” 

“I would’ve, if you were honest with me from the start.” You resign, a sincere look in your eyes. “I’ll give you a choice: us, or her.”  

He rears back with the offer, looking at you in disbelief. “What?” 

“You either choose me and the baby or you choose to be with her, and in that case, I will never let you near my baby, Charles.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.  

For a second, his eyes linger around your stomach.   But you know his choice when he meets your eyes again.  

“What have we done to each other?” He whispers, and you can barely see the tears in his eyes.  

“We didn’t do anything, Charles. I gave up everything for you, but you just took me for granted.” Walking back to the dining table, you grab your coat and bag, and when you come face to face with him again, your voice is soft despite all the anger you still feel towards him. “You, Charles Leclerc, are truly the smallest man who ever lived.”  

The hotel lobby is calm and empty as you sit at the bar, and it’s surprising when you consider that fact that it is the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix, meaning that there must be hundreds and thousands of motorsports fans visiting. Not that you’re complaining about the silence, of course. After the night you’ve had, silence and calmness are all you could ask for.  

“I’ll get a whiskey, please, whatever top shelf stuff you’ve got.” A voice cuts through the moment you are having, and you instantly recognise the distinct accent of the stranger sitting next to you. “Thought you were in the States, finishing off filming.” This time, the comment is directed to you, and you roll your eyes as you push the empty glass towards the bartender on duty.  

With a sigh, you turn to the man on your right, “What do you want, Carlos?” Your voice conveys your lack of energy, and Carlos is not dumb enough not to notice the dark circles under your eyes beneath your makeup.  

“I came to check on you.” Is his answer. Simple, curt and to the point. You’d certainly appreciate it more if you had the patience for his antics.  

“Well, you did, have a good night.” Slamming down a hundred-Euro bill onto the counter, you make a move to get up from your place, but a gentle hand on your wrist stops you. “Let me go.”  

Though there is no venom to your voice, Carlos knows that it is not the time, nor the place, to test your patience. “I’m sorry,” he starts and when you take a good look at him, you can tell that he’s being sincere, “I really did want to check up on you, and considering the fact that you have a perfectly good penthouse but instead in a hotel, I think I was right to do so.”  

Crossing your arms across your chest as you get back onto the barstool with a huff, you glare at him lightheartedly, “I didn’t want to stay in the same house as him,” raising your eyebrows, you continue with a lower voice, “thanks to chilisade5594@gmail.com, but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The way his cheeks redden under the dim lights of the lobby bar would make you chuckle under normal circumstances, but you push the thought aside, “Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re lucky it was me who realised it was you, if it was my agent or publicist, we’d have another scandal to deal with.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off with a swat of his hand, “I’m sorry I put you into that position.” 

“Don’t be,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side, “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t sent me the video. Just tell me why you did it.” 

“What?” He turns you with a confused look on his face.  

“Why, Carlos?” You ask, voice encouraging yet soft, “Why did you send it? Why now?” 

He keeps quiet for a while, not answering your questions but not taking his gaze off you either. Eventually, he exhales a deep sigh as he gives you a sheepish shrug, “I didn’t like the way he treated you. And I didn’t want to make you worry about it without concrete proof, so I guess everything just... worked out.”  

“Huh,” you let out a small hum in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”  

Expecting more than the words you chose to answer him with, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a big gulp of whiskey from his glass. “That’s it?” 

“Well, what more is it there to say?” You ask, sheepishly shrugging. “We’re getting a divorce; he’s going to move out and I’m gonna make sure the entire world knows just why.” 

Carlos flags down the bartender as he mumbles, “I feel like you need a stronger drink if we’re going to talk about your impending divorce, cariño.” 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling an even deeper sigh, you shake your head. “I can’t.” Thank God Carlos is one of the people who is the proud owner of a braincell around you, because he catches your insinuation quickly.  

With widened eyes, he quickly turns towards you, eyes softening as you offer him a sad smile. “Dios mío,” he murmurs, eyes running over you worriedly, “are you okay?” 

“Well... no.” You let out an unexpected laugh at his expression, patting him on the shoulder lightheartedly. “I’ll be fine, Carlos, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.” 

“I know you will,” he assures you, “but does Charles know?” 

Now that manages to bring a grimace to your face. “He signed his parental rights away along with the divorce papers.” The look he gives you after hearing your words has you worried that his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, but you try to calm him down as best as you can. “Carlos, it’s fine.” 

“It’s most certainly not!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the almost empty hotel lobby. “Is he out of his mind?”  

You give him an awkward smile and another shrug of your shoulders. "I... feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to be wrong. So... yes?”

“Cariño,” he says, exasperated, “how are you so normal about this?” 

“Lots of women raise their kids as single mothers while working, Carlos.” Your expression quickly taking the form of a frown, “I can handle this, I don’t need Charles or anyone else to hold my hand and tell me I’m doing such a good job.” 

“I know you can do this alone, tonta,” he rolls his eyes as the endearment making you roll your eyes, “but you’re not going to be alone. Because I’m here.” There’s a certain finality to his words. And just as you’re about to object to his words, he quickly shuts you down. “I know you can do this on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”  

“What if I need waffles in the middle of the night?” You ask, your eyebrow raised in a skeptical way.  

“I’ll adjust my pancake recipe.” His reply his immediate, and he shrugs lightly as he adds, “Pancakes are better, anyway.”  

Rolling your eyes you continue, “What if I need someone to hold my hand in the delivery room? It can get quite gruesome, you know?” 

He provides you with another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never really been affected by it.”  

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Carlos!” You exclaim, pushing yourself off your seat as you turn your body to face him. “I don’t need you to bail me out, I don’t need your help!” 

“I know you don’t,” he nods.  

“I am capable of doing this on my own!” You shriek, and the fact that your face is starting to get progressively redder worries Carlos.  

“I know you are, but–” he tries to reason.  

“No buts! I’m going to be a good mother, okay?” You point an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m going to choose him!” 

The way your voice breaks at the end of your sentence has Carlos instinctively pull you into his arms, which is not that hard given the fact that you are almost the same height as him as you stand in front of the bar stool he’s sitting on, and he doesn’t say a word as you sob into his chest – letting out all the emotion you’ve bottled up over the past few weeks, no less. He doesn’t you offer you empty promises or tries to soothe you with cliché phrases. Instead, he stands still, holding you between his arms as you sob continuously into his chest. Giving the bar tender an awkward smile over your shoulder, he hands him his card to close out your tabs.  

He only starts talking again once you’ve pulled away and trying to wipe the remnants of your tears from under your eyes. “Do you feel better now?” He asks, handing you a napkin.  

“Yeah,” you mumble, sniffing as you play with the corners of the napkin. Then, you flip your eyes toward his, and fix him with a glare. “You are not becoming my kid’s stepdad.” 

“Of course not, cariño,” he assures you, “I’ll be the dad that stepped up instead.” 

You let out a teary chuckle as you slap him lightly on his chest. “I’m serious, Carlos.” 

“So am I.” He replies softly, and you can see the genuine look on his face. “You’re not alone anymore, I’m choosing you.” Tentatively, he presses his hand softly against your stomach as he maintains your gaze. “Both of you.” 

And though the last thing you want is a promise, this one seems like a real one. So, you let yourself believe that he might just keep it up. 

[teamred]

so contagious

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | smut | 2.8k

SUMMARY | following the kissing from your movie night, logan takes you out on a proper date, while you take him back to your place afterwards. // part two of any other way

WARNINGS | smut, breastplay, oral s*x (female receiving), piv s*x, unprotected s*x // this is 70% fluff - 30% smut!

RATING | explicit

NOTES | i didn't intend to make a part two, but so many of you loved it, i had to give it a shot! this one is from logan's perspective. yes, i know this logan is a bit ooc, but, in my head, this takes place some time after worst!logan enters wade's universe and he's softened up. please leave some love if you enjoy it!

Logan has absolutely no idea what he's doing.

Standing in front of the living room mirror, he debates if he should choose the pale blue plaid shirt he's currently wearing or one of his brown ones instead. But if he chooses the latter, it'd be too similar to the one he wore when you saw him yesterday. 

Overthinking isn't his style, and yet here he is, obsessing over something as trivial as his shirt color. It’s been decades since he’s been on a proper date, maybe even ever.

“Well, don't you look handsome,” Wade cuts through his thoughts with a grin and folded arms, peeling himself away from the kitchen door frame. He saunters over, reaching out to touch Logan’s hair, only for the larger man to shove him away immediately. 

“Not now, Wade.”  

Wade sniffs his hand dramatically. “Oh, my God–you even used hair product! This is so exciting. It's like witnessing a teenager on his first date. I feel like your mom!”

“Well, Mom,” Logan refocuses on the mirror, fixing the mess Wade made of his hair, “you can fuck off.” 

Wade points a finger at him with mock sternness. “Hey, watch your language, young man.” 

Then, to Logan’s surprise, Wade grows momentarily quiet as he stands next to him, both facing the mirror. “Also, the blue shirt’s the better choice.” 

“Yeah?” Logan quirks an eyebrow, glancing over at the brown plaid shirts laid out on the couch. 

“Yeah,” replies Wade softly, and Logan catches a genuine smile in the mirror. The heartfelt moment doesn’t last long though when Wade claps him on the back. “And don’t be so nervous, Wolvie. You already went to second base with her last night. The deal’s pretty much sealed.” 

Logan scowls. “I’m not nervous.” 

“Mm-hmm. You say that, but you’re being even more testy than usual. Dare I blame it on the hormones?” Suddenly, he plants a quick kiss on Logan’s cheek.

“What the fuck?!” 

Logan recoils, then almost lunges at him instinctively. However, Wade’s already retreating and walking backwards, making a beeline to his bedroom with a wave of his hand. 

“Be back by curfew, sweetie! But text me if you’ll be out late, or if you need anything. Some snacks, some condoms—” 

“Wade!” he growls, his patience wearing thin. 

Wade blows an air kiss, disappearing into his room. “Love ya! And you got this!” 

Logan mumbles to himself, “Yeah, I sure hope so.”  

Turning to the mirror for one final check, he adjusts his collar and straightens his shirt. His phone vibrates on the living room table and he reads the incoming texts from Laura: 

- hey sorry for the late reply - but if you haven’t gone out already, i prefer the blue over the brown - not that it matters though - she’ll find you handsome either way - don’t worry! it’ll go well :) 

Logan nods, reassured by Laura’s texts. It’s just a date with someone he’s already known for a little while; it’s not like a blind date or anything. He can do this. 

With one last look in the mirror to check his hair and beard, he grabs his keys and wallet, slings his dark brown leather jacket over his shoulder, and heads out the door.

Logan pulls up in front of your apartment complex and gives you a quick call to let you know he’s here. When you step out of the building, his eyes can’t help but sweep over you—fitted jeans hugging your curves, an off-the-shoulder top that shows just enough, and that stunning smile that lights up your face.

He notices you checking him out too. Realizing that his hair might be messy, he quickly combs his fingers through it as you stroll over. 

“Long time, no see,” you joke, referencing how you saw him just yesterday.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Logan greets, trying to sound more relaxed than he feels. He holds a helmet out to you, but catches how his grip is more tense than usual. “You ready for a ride?” 

You nod, eyes sparkling with excitement. As he steps away from his bike to help you with the helmet, he finds it endearing how you lift your chin and pout a little, making it easier for him to secure the straps. He hopes his touch isn’t too rough, but when your eyes meet his and you smile up at him, he knows he must be doing something right.

With his hands so close to your face, his mind flashes to how he palmed your cheeks and neck last night as he kissed you deeply. It’s presumptuous, but he hopes for a repeat tonight. 

Once you hop on the bike behind him and wrap your arms snugly around his waist, he revels in the warmth of your body against his. As he weaves through the city streets, he occasionally glances back to make sure you’re comfortable. 

Logan thinks to himself how good this feels, to ride around freely with someone he cares for by his side. It’s been awhile since he’s let someone get this close to him… 

Maybe he could get used to this. 

Eventually, he pulls up at an old diner he’s grown fond of across town. The place gives him a sense of nostalgia, a reminder of simpler times (and, even though he tries not to think of it, it also brings back memories of that one time with Wade in the Void).

He offered to take you here because it’s familiar, cozy, and he didn’t want to overthink this date with reservations to some high-end restaurant.

Walking across the mostly empty restaurant, a waitress leads you both to a window booth, where you sit across from each other.

At first, there’s a bit of awkwardness—Logan recommends what’s good on the menu, and you take a moment to decide what to order. His foot taps on the floor as he peeks over the menu, sitting in the silence uncomfortably. 

But once the waitress takes your orders, conversation flows more easily, just like it normally does at Wade’s get-togethers.

You check in with how Laura’s doing, if he and Wade have been on any more assignments recently, and how his motorcycle is running since he fixed it last. 

Logan’s grateful you’re leading the conversation and asking questions; it’s always been easier for him to listen than to talk. 

But he’s putting in effort tonight—he takes it upon himself to know about your life outside of work, if you’ve been reading anything lately, and how you felt about the ride over to the diner.

“A little scary, but it was fun!” you grin, resting your chin in your palm. “I’m just glad it’s you driving it. Like I said yesterday, I always feel comfortable and safe around you, Logan.” 

As your foot brushes against his under the table, Logan’s gaze meets yours. You flash him a shy smile, and before he can think twice, his foot instinctively strokes yours in return. A flicker of doubt crosses his mind—Is this the kind of thing people do on dates?—but your soft giggles melt away his hesitation. The lighthearted game continues until the arrival of your food.

You dig into your food, and a random thought crosses your mind. “Have you ever used your claws to cut your food?” 

Logan pauses mid-bite, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. “You know, in all of my two-hundred years of living, I’ve never really thought to try it.” 

“Probably ‘cause you always have a knife around,” you say. 

“Probably,” he smirks. With a glint in his eyes, he unsheathes his claws and the sound makes you jump slightly in your seat. 

“Whoa,” you whisper, eyes widening in awe. Logan realizes you’ve never seen them before. Slowly, he extends his hand, the blades gleaming under the diner lights. 

“Go ahead,” says Logan softly. “Just be careful.” 

You reach out carefully, your fingers grazing the cool, polished metal. You’re both unusually quiet, your attention fully on each other.

Once you pull away, he turns back to his plate with a slight grin. “Okay, let’s see how this goes.”

With surprising finesse, he slices through his burger using his claws, the action both impressive and a little absurd to witness. 

You burst into laughter, the sound contagious as he joins in. “Logan, I think you need to stop before you break the plate.” 

He chuckles, retracting his claws and grabbing a sliced up chunk of his burger. “Yeah, probably a good idea. At least we know the answer to that question now.”

As you move on to dessert, you savor a slice of cheesecake while Logan indulges in a slice of apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. When he’s almost done, Logan takes a slow lick off his spoon and catches you staring at him. 

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” he asks with a playful smile, raising an eyebrow as he takes another bite of pie.

You scarf down the last few bites of your cheesecake before answering. 

“Okay, I have to ask—” you lower your voice and lean in across the table “—can you actually smell how horny someone is?”

Logan freezes mid-chew, remembering what happened yesterday before you left.

“Fucking Wade…” he mutters, shaking his head. After a beat, he sighs. “Do I really have to answer that question?”

You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. “Oh, my God, you totally can…” 

All Logan gives you is a brief laugh and a shake of his head. He fishes for his wallet, tosses some cash onto the table, and then stands up with a grin. “C’mon, gorgeous. Let’s get outta here.”

As he pulls you to your feet, you ask half suspiciously and half in jest, “Are you saying that because you can smell something or…?” 

“Maybe, maybe not...” he teases. He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours, and leads you to the door. “Either way, let’s head out. C’mon.” 

As you step outside and Logan helps you with your helmet again, you look up at him with a different look this time than before—one that signifies that the night’s only beginning. 

As you fumble with your keys in front of your apartment door, Logan steps in from behind and grips one side of your waist. He leans in, pulling you close, and kisses the crook in your neck. You inhale sharply, losing focus as you melt into his touch. 

After you finally manage to unlock the door, Logan quickly shuts the door behind him before he presses you up against the wall. Initially, you share an intense kiss, but it soon becomes fervent and open-mouthed. Rough edges of his beard even brush against your lips at some points. 

Both parties quickly kick off their shoes. He peels off his leather jacket and aids you with yours. Still lip-locked, he then lifts you up and has you wrap your legs around his waist; his evident desire presses against your body. 

Logan drags your top off, his heated kisses trailing from your mouth, to your neck, and down to your clavicle. His mouth leaves love upon your breasts before he pushes your strapless bra down. You gasp as his push is so rough, the bra merely snaps off and falls away towards the floor.

But Logan doesn’t stop—he hones his attention towards your hardened tips, sucking and nipping with a fervor that makes him lose himself in you.

The moans that fill your entryway only drive him crazy further, along with your fingers tugging at his hair tightly. His hands are needy, kneading your other breast with a blend of tender and strength. After a moment, he pulls back, gently setting your legs back onto the floor.

He kisses his way down from your breasts to your stomach, dropping to his knees in front of you. Logan blinks up at you as he helps unbutton your jeans, pulling them and your panties off and tossing them aside. The sight of you, completely bare and vulnerable, only heightens his desire.

He kisses your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin as he moves towards your core. The scent of your arousal is unmistakable and intoxicating, but it’s the way your body reacts to him that drives him wild. Lifting one of your legs over his shoulders, he dives in without hesitation, his tongue exploring your wetness.

His tongue skillfully works over your most sensitive areas, each touch and flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. Logan is so immersed in the moment, he feels like he's freefalling, lost in the intensity of it all.

The need to be inside you drives him to a point of near frenzy, his own body responding with instinctive thrusts. Each lick and suck against your folds is fuelled by both the need to make you feel good and to be desperately inside of you.

“Logan, Logan—” 

You shatter and unravel for him, jerking your hips against his mouth. He holds you still, securing your orgasm rides out fully. Once you do, he stands up and kisses you gently, intermingling your taste with his tongue.

Dazed, you hook your fingers with a couple of his and lead him towards your bedroom. You lay yourself on the bed first, while he watches you as he strips his shirt and tank top. He sees the inflamed hunger in your eyes at the sight of his entirety. 

Crawling over to you on the bed, his hands roam your body, caressing you passionately before the next part. When he finally undoes his jeans and belts and throws them aside, he looks at you intently. 

“Do you have—?”  

You shush him with a finger, whispering, “Just get inside me, Logan.” 

A smirk spreads across his face as he aligns himself with your slit, teasing you slightly before sliding in. Being inside you draws out a low groan from him, while you throw your head back and expel a long moan.

When you finally acclimatize to his girth, he starts to thrust slowly and kisses you throughout. It’s so easy for him to lose control, to get this over and done with, but he wants to make sure it feels good for you as it does for him. 

But it doesn’t help when your hands dig into his back and your walls clench harder around him. 

“Faster, please,” you beg. 

He checks in with a smug grin, cocking his head slightly. “You sure, gorgeous?” 

You nod breathlessly, “Please, Logan.” 

And that’s enough to make him lose all restraint. He picks up the pace, his movements becoming more intense and primal. His thumb circles your clit, and the combination of his hard thrusts and gentle touch brings you over the edge in unison. He ensures you’re satisfied first before he pulls out and marks you with his release. 

Panting, he catches his breath, and grazes the back of his knuckles against your thigh. Logan turns to look at you. “You ready for round two, beautiful?” 

You laugh with disbelief and exhilaration. “Wait, round two alr—?” 

Logan cuts you off with a deep kiss, his grin wide and satisfied. He feels you smiling into his kiss, your excitement matching his own. 

Oh yeah—he definitely could get used to this.

EPILOGUE — ONE WEEK LATER 

Back at Wade, Logan, and Blind Al’s apartment during another weekend get-together, you’re seated next to Logan at the dining room table, caught up in a quiet conversation with him amidst the animated chaos around you. 

Suddenly, Wade appears behind you, throwing his arms around you both and playfully squishing you together.

“Say ‘thank you, Mommy Wade for our beautiful dating life and we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you and I’m gonna name our kid after you and—’” 

“What the hell is happening?” you cut in, looking at your new boyfriend. 

“Just ignore him, baby,” Logan groans, shaking his head. 

“Already using terms of endearment? Y’all move fast,” Wade quips. “And is that any way to treat the person who got you two lovebirds together?” 

“Hey, I helped too,” Laura interjects from Logan’s side.

Wade waves her off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. You might’ve mentioned something here and there, but I saw the vision, and not Wanda’s, might I add.” 

“I’m not gonna call you ‘Mommy Wade,’ but I will thank you.” You lean over and give him a quick peck on the cheek. He gasps theatrically and ruffles your hair with exaggerated affection. Times like these remind you why Wade has always been one of your closest friends. 

“Well,” says Wade, as he steps back to return to his seat, “at least one of you appreciates Cupid Wade’s handiwork.”

Later, while you’re chatting with Yukio and Ellie, you notice out of the corner of your eye Logan and Wade exchanging glances across the room. Logan gives Wade a small, grateful nod. 

“Thank you, Wade,” Logan mouths, his expression soft and sincere. 

“Anytime, Wolvie,” Wade mouths back with a wink, raising his beer in a mock toast. 

You catch Logan’s eye, and both of you share a smile that speaks more than words ever could.

[mammonscheeks]

obey me brothers reacting to a malnourished mc

⤑ a/n: I feel like this is the most canon writing I’ve ever done yet... enjoy! 

⤑ warnings: none 

obey me masterlist | requesting rules 

DEMON BROTHERS REACTING TO A MALNOURISHED MC 

“Hey, MC! You’re lucky because you get to go out with The Great Mammon tonight! We’ll hit the casino n’ leave with our pockets stuffed, and then we can go clubbing! What d’ya say?” 

“...”

“MC?” 

Mammon put his warm hands on your shoulders and shook gently, not used to your lack of response. He furrowed his eyebrows as he caught sight of the dark bags under your dull eyes. 

“Yeesh, MC! Did ya get into a fight or something?” Mammon joked, trying his best to hide the fact that he was worried about his human. 

“Huh?” you blinked as you realized you had just been zoning out. “I, uh.... Shit! I forgot my potions textbook in my room, I’ll see you all later!” 

“Language,” Lucifer sternly reminded you as you haphazardly scurried out of the classroom, your mind "lagging” as Leviathan would put it. The demon brothers watched you leave, shooting odd looks at each other. 

“I don’t think MC’s been getting enough sleep,” Belphie yawned.

“As much as I hate to agree with Belphegor, he’s right. They seem quite fatigued.” Lucifer said, staring intently at his brothers. “Leviathan, did you force MC to play video games with you all night again?”

“Don’t accuse me first,” Leviathan grumbled. “But no, I was catching up on some anime alone last night.”

“Maybe MC needs to eat some more,” Beelzebub said, snacking on some chips despite the ‘no food’ sign in the front of the classroom. “Oh, I have an idea! Let’s get Luke and Simeon to cook a celestial feast.” 

“You obviously only want that for your own self interest,” Satan rolled his eyes. “I’ve read a book on this. Maybe MC’s malnourished? Humans are fragile, of course. Additionally, the Devildom provides little natural light from the sun like in the human world.” 

“I know just the cure!” Asmodeus gasped, pulling up Akuzon on his D.D.D. “Aaand it’s ordered!” 

“You better not have used my Akuzon account for whatever beauty product you bought,” Leviathan raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh hush, Levi. Trust me, this will fix MC up right away!” 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The package arrived by the end of the school day, thanks to Levi’s Akuzon Prime subscription. 

Mammon held up a colorful piece of gelatin in his hand, inspecting it thoroughly. 

“So this... Vitamin gummy... Is gonna help MC? This tiny little colorful thing? Seriously?” He grunted. 

“Wow... Humans are weaker than I imagined,” Satan frowned, squishing one in his hand. “They have to eat these to stay alive?”

“Beel, don’t you dare think about eating MC’s gummies,” Belphegor scolded his twin. 

“And don’t forget, I also got MC a sunlight lamp!” Asmodeus’ eyes glittered. “Apparently, these provide light therapy by tricking the human body into thinking they’re receiving natural light!” 

“It seems that humans have weak minds then,” Lucifer sighed. “Either that, or we’ve been fooled.” 

You walked into the HOL, stifling a yawn. Your entire body felt heavy from fatigue. It seemed like you had taken the human world’s abundance of sunlight and Vitamin D for granted. Solomon had helped you by casting a energy spell for the first few months you had lived here, but even that was starting to wear off.

“MC!” Mammon basically tripped over his brothers to rush to you. “Take one before you die!” 

Startled, you looked up just in time to see Mammon basically shoving a gummy in your mouth, before you were immediately blinded by Asmodeus holding a warm light in your face. 

You covered your face and squinted your eyes, seeing the eager and expecting eyes of the demon brothers. 

“Guys, what are you doing?” You questioned. This was pretty unexpected, but you were used to the brothers pranks and shenanigans. 

“We just wanted to help! We heard you were malnutritioned because it’s always dark in the Devildom!” Mammon said. 

“So we bought a sun lamp and some vitamin gummies for you,” Belphegor yawned. 

“Aw, guys... Thank you!” You smiled happily. Even though you hadn’t told the brothers explicitly what was wrong, thinking you could take care of it yourself, they had of course, noticed. Your heart swelled with appreciation, until you noticed that the brothers were still staring at you expectantly, like you were about to turn into some mutant creature. 

“Uhh.. You guys do know that it’ll take a few days for my body to recover, right?” You shrugged. 

“Oh..” Satan sighed, as the brothers looked disappointed. “I thought the effects would have been immediate.” 

“Laaame,” Leviathan said. “A power-up type feature would have been way cooler! Like, imagine if MC ate that thing and grew 10 feet in size to defeat the final boss!” 

“That’s fine, MC. Just focus on resting. I’ve excused you from classes for the rest of the week,” Lucifer said. “This is an quality of humans we should have researched more during the planning stage of the exchange program. Diavolo also sends his apologies.” 

"Thank you Lucifer, but it’s no big deal,” you smiled. “Well, I’m going to go take a nap now.” 

"I’ll come with,” Belphegor yawned. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Mammon yelled, running after the two. “I’m the only one allowed in MC’s bed!” 

“Hey, don’t forget about me! I’m bringing the lamp!” Asmo cried, waving it in the air. 

“You know, I also read that cuddling with a partner can help fatigue,” Satan blushed, following behind. 

“I’ll bring some snacks for us,” Beelzebub called after. 

“I’ll bring my TSL movies so we can have some background sound!” Leviathan ran after. “Don’t you dare start without me!” 

Lucifer sighed, looking after his brothers scrambling to get to MC. From having spells backfire on you, battling unique health concerns, and getting preyed on by lower-ranking demons, your acclimation to the Devildom had faced many obstacles. However, Lucifer knew that he and his brothers would do anything to ensure you had a support system. 

As you fell asleep with the weight and warmth of your favorite people around you, you couldn’t help but feel loved and cared for. 

[nvuy]

h.how do we feel .

“Uh… sorry ‘bout the mess. I’ll make it up to ya.” For good measure, the space cowboy kicks one of the corpses to the side with his boot.

You clutch your chest tighter, heart racing. “You just killed fifteen IPC soldiers in my bar.”

“Yep.”

“You–”

He suddenly looks offended. “Hey. I did the world a favour. I don’t take kindly to rats puttin’ their fudgin’ filthy hands on the merchandise.” He gestures to his torso. Then, he whistles, placing his thumbs on the waistband of his pants. “But, nice place ya got. This your business?”

Dazed, you nod slowly. Your eyes flit to the broken sign and the smashed television hanging over the bar counter.

The bottles are smashed to bits. There’s liquor spilled all over the floor—expensive liquor. This would cost a fortune to fix, let alone to then replace all of the products.

You exhale shakily. You try not to look at the bodies.

The cowboy pities you. You can see it on his face. He says nothing. He awkwardly clears his throat and skims the rim of his hat with his fingers.

This sucks.

“How ‘bout this? I’ll give ya the bounty money so you can fix this place up.”

“Will you pay for my therapy sessions as well?” you chime in, murmuring beneath your breath.

He cracks a smile. “If that’s what you want.”

You lean over the counter and place your head in your hands. Tiredly, you ask, “how much?”

You hear the cowboy click his tongue in thought. “‘Bout… seventy-five? Give or take?”

You look at him from between your fingers. “Huh? Seventy-five hundred?”

The cowboy, yet again, looks offended. “Million, hun. I don’t do my job for cheap. What do I look like to you?”

You squawked. “Seventy-five million?”

“You heard me.” He cocks his head to the side, lips pressed into a thin line. “Why? You like that?”

“You can’t give me seventy-five million credits. Are you serious?” You could feel your face burning in shock. Your hands slam onto the counter, and you point an accusing finger in his face. “You must run some sort of shady business.”

The cowboy looks to the left for a moment.

He blinks at you like you’re stupid.

“You’re serious?” you repeat.

Instead of answering, he pulls out his phone from his pocket. You say nothing about the flimsy orange case, instead watching as he fumbles and squints at the screen before turning it towards you.

He shows you the recent deposit.

As he said. Seventy-five million fat credits sit right there in his account.

Hesitantly, you grab the phone to peer closer. Curiously, you start scrolling. These deposits clearly weren’t new to him. There were so many starting back from about ten years ago. There was a recent one of two-hundred thousand, then another just crossing fifty-seven million–

You were going to pass out. You hand his phone back to him with trembling fingers.

“Seventy-five sound good, or ya want some more?” He was tapping away on the screen again. “Gimme your bank details.”

“No!” You shake your head. “I don’t need your money. It’s fine.”

“How ‘bout eighty?”

“I–”

“Eighty-five.”

“No, I–”

“Round it up.” He turns the phone to you again, this time waiting for you to take it. An empty prompt of a receiver for the credits waits still. “One hundred.”

“Stop. I’m not taking your money.”

“I insist,” was all he said. “Got plenty to dispose of. And was never too responsible wit’ it anyway. Also, don’t really need to spend money on food and stuff, ‘cause, y’know–” He gestures to himself again. “I trashed your place. Lemme help ya fix it up.”

“I’m not taking your money,” you repeat.

The cowboy narrows his eyes at you.

To retaliate, you narrow them back.

Then, grumpily, he states, “you’re stubborn.”

“Yeah.” You bristle defensively. “And?”

“I like it,” he all but purrs. He leans over the counter, fingers drumming over the bench. “If ya don’t want my money, how’z about I take ya out for dinner? To say sorry?”

Huh? You lean back, cowering away from the sharp teeth he displays behind pulled lips. Your heart races in your chest, half out of the anxiety that riddles your veins, but also because he’s practically snapping his teeth in your face like a shark.

Your hands coil into weak fists.

“What do ya think, pretty?”

You look at him.

You suppose he’s handsome—you’re not sure if it’s appropriate to call a cyborg handsome. But he’s got lovely hair, and it falls over his shoulders like water. It covers half his face, but the eye you can see is… trustworthy, to an extent.

He’s definitely not the most insane man you’ve ever met, so that’s a bonus. He also just killed a bunch of soldiers in your territory. You didn’t like the IPC either, and maybe he did do you a favour, but still.

You sigh. You think the pleading flutter of his lashes won you over.

“Fine.”

“That’s the spirit.” He holds out his hand, palm facing upwards. “Phone.”

Your face twists suspiciously. “No funny business.” Hesitantly, you reach into your pocket and hand it to him.

He grins and takes it. “Not at all. I’m a super trustworthy guy.” You find it hard to believe him. Again, he seems to have trouble navigating your phone. He notices you staring. “Sorry. Can’t read very well.”

“Oh.” You straighten up slightly. “Do you want me to add your number instead?”

He makes a face at the phone.

“Nope. I got it.” He hands you back your phone after a moment. The contact is still open on the screen: Boothill. He’s somehow taken a photo of himself without you noticing. “Might’ve added an extra zero. Oops.”

“Oh.” You stare down at the phone number. “There's no zeroes in your number.”

“Sure.” Boothill pulls back from the counter with a tip of his hat. “I gotta run. I’ll set up our lil’ dinner date later.”

You turn your phone off. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“You got it, babe.” He blows you a kiss and waves his hand behind him.

As soon as the door shuts, you get a notification of a successful deposit into your bank account.

Your face immediately drains of blood as you frantically open up the app.

Seven-hundred and fifty million credits sit in your account.

The message attached to it reads, ‘Dont bot her snending it back. Wont work. LOL.’