#it’s overheated in there and you can barely see the floor

[unnamed-proxy]

There are two different bodies I imagine Painter with. I call them expectation and reality

Expectation is a silly boy (/gn), it gets to dress up and has a bunch of arms for painting as well as a belt that Seb gave him. Typical robot body with an artist apron and beret, as well as a really stupid shirt underneath. It’s free, it’s goofy, he may express and draw and heal from overclocking itself like we all want him to. Slice of life, he comes and goes as it pleases, filled to the brim with whimsy

Reality is a humongous, incomprehensible, fuckoff tangle of wires and screens that crawls along the ceiling and has an infinite supply of flash-beacons (and a gun of course how could I not) that it uses whenever it feels like screwing you over that run (often). He’s like Ennard fnaf if Ennard didn’t even try looking human. This is also the one I actually want to draw.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: panic attack, PPD

"Does tomorrow morning work? I'll be heading to base immediately after. Want to make sure I have enough time to say goodbye."

"Yeah, we'll see you then."

Simon goes to bed early that night.

He's good at clearing his mind and willing himself to sleep, hovering just barely there on the surface, never dipping too deep, and has done it for years. It enables his ability to rest in even some of the most uncomfortable circumstances (and that includes Johnny's snoring). It's compartmentalizing at it's finest, something he's tried to impress upon the sergeants too, over time.

Learn how to do this. It may save your life.

The pendulum swing keeps him somewhat aware, connected to a very small piece still tethered to the conscious world.

It's how he hears his phone ring at twenty hundred.

The caller ID flashes your name and he picks up immediately, sitting straight up. "Hey-"

"Hi, um..." You're crying. He flips himself out of bed, already partially dress, and manages to locate his shoes in a millisecond.

"What's wrong?"

"Can you... can you c-come- take the baby for a little while?" Your exhale whistles through the phone sharply. "P-please. I know you- you're leaving tomorrow but I-"

"It's alright, I'm on my way. I'll be there in a minute. Are you okay?"

"I- I... don't know wh-what to do." You're hyperventilating, caught in the grip of something, scared and alone. The sidewalk stretches for miles, his lungs burning as the oxygen stays trapped in his chest from the weight of his fear, and the line goes quiet, call ending as he makes it to the lobby of your building and up the stairs.

The copy of your key he never returned gets him inside, and the first thing he notices, or realizes, is Orion's screaming. He calls your name, yells it, beelining for the nursery where the baby lays on his back, hands and feet wriggling wildly in the air, tears coursing down his cheeks as he wails. "Alright, Ry, alright. C'mere, I've got you." You're not in here, not anywhere in sight, and his stomach flips.

You have to be here. He just talked to you.

But you wouldn't know how to signal him if something was really wrong, would you? He didn't prepare you. If something happened, how would you tell him?

He tucks Orion into his arms, cradles him to his chest, and bounces him gently. "Hey, you're okay, you're okay. What's all this crying about, hmm? What is it? Where's your mama?" The crying gentles, barely, and Simon holds him at a distance, quickly, checking him over. He's not overheated, he doesn't seem to be hurt, he's freshly bathed and in a clean onesie. His nappy is new and doesn't need to be changed. "Mama took good care of you, huh? You're all clean, fresh nappy, ready for bed, aren't you bub? Yeah." Simon paces in a circle, trying to settle his cries, before lowering him back into the crib. "You stay right here, little man, alright? Close your eyes. Daddy's gonna find mama and he'll be right back."

You're not in the living room, and he finds your bedroom dark when he opens the door. For a very brief moment, his panic blooms into paralyzation, before he spots the light from your bathroom.

His heart breaks when he opens the door.

You're on the floor, back against the vanity, sobbing with your palms covering your ears. You look like you haven't showered in days, and your light blue t shirt is soaked, slicked to your breasts and belly.

There's no distance between the two of you in this moment, no barriers, no time, no need for space. He kneels, and you look up, tearful eyes telling him all he needs to know. "I'm here, mama. I've got you."

You go into his arms willingly, diaphragm heaving with tiny hiccups and sobs, unable to catch your breath. Your entire body shakes, and wraps himself around you, holding you tight where you've buried your face in his chest. "I- I'm s-sorry." You're hoarse, voice cracked and broken. "He w-won't stop."

"Shhh, don't worry about that right now, just take a deep breath." You shake your head.

"I can't."

"Yes you can." You're frozen, panicked, and he smoothes his hand over your head. "You can do it, honey. Try f'me." The baby is still crying, and with the bathroom door slightly ajar, it bounces off the tile, all around you. Simon grimaces.

He's fine, he's safe. He's in his crib.

Simon shuts the door.

"Breathe with me, alright?" he maneuvers you so that you're in his arms, laying on his chest, face tipped back to his. "Just follow me," he pulls the hand that's gripping onto his forearm like rebar away and places it over his heart, "like this." You try and try to sync your breathing with his, and once you finally get there, evening out slowly, he kisses your hair. "There you go, good girl."

Simon keeps you close, happy to hold you, even if it was in these circumstances. It's so selfish, so wrong, but he can't find it in himself to let you go, waiting long past the point when you've calmed down to finally speak again. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"He... he wouldn't stop crying. For hours and I... I tried everything, but I felt like I couldn't breathe and I felt... dizzy, and when I went to feed him he didn't want me and I was crying too, but I felt so- so mad at the same time, and I didn't know what to do so I j-just put him in his crib and came in here and c-called you. I don't kn-know what I did wrong-" your breathing slips into shallow territory again, and he rubs your back.

"You didn't do anything wrong. He's okay, he's safe. He's even got a fresh nappy on. You made sure you took care of him, which is all you need to do, okay?"

"I feel awful," you whisper, drenched in shame, "he needs to eat, and I just- I abandoned him."

"No, you did the right thing and took a break. There's nothing wrong with taking a break." You sniffle, pulling the sopping shirt away from your body, shivering with discomfort. "Do you want to try again? See if it goes any better?" You give him a frightened look, unsure and nervous. "I'll be right here with you."

"Okay."

"Let's go see your mama." Orion has worked himself into a state, and it tears Simon to pieces, guilt about leaving him in here ripping through his heart.

He feels responsible. He is responsible, at the end of the day. If he had been upfront with you from the beginning, this might have never happened. He would have been here. You would have the support you need.

He was supposed to take care of you, but all he did was make it worse.

He kisses Orion gently. It helps quell the anxiety growing like a plague inside him, worry and fear about leaving you on your own for weeks, or more, chipping away at his resolve. He tells himself you'll be okay, that you did it on your own before he came along, and that you can do it again, but the admission of another dizzy spell doesn't make him feel any better in the long run.

"Don't worry, she's okay now. She loves you so much, you know that? She takes such good care of you, all the time. Even when she doesn't feel good, doesn't she?" He doesn't turn the lights on to your bedroom, and finds you on the bed, sitting up, wet shirt discarded on the floor. He doesn't rush it, doesn't push you, even though the baby cries at the top of his lungs in Simon's arms.

Finally, you hold your hands out. He helps get Orion settled, stroking his cheek over and over until he starts to instinctually seek you out, latching after a few long minutes.

Your eyes slip closed at the silence and you lean to the side, nestling into Simon's chest.

He holds you. You hold his baby.

How it was always meant to be.

He whispers above your ear, working his fingers into the knots of your neck, your shoulders. "You're doing great, mama." You hum but stay quiet, head down, fingers stroking over Ry's cheek, again and again.

"Thank you... for being here. I know things are complicated but it means a lot that you would come. I'm sorry I freaked out, about your job. I just... it's a lot to take in. I don't really know how to feel. I need some time." That's good, he thinks. Better than last week, when you asked him to leave with tears in your eyes. There's hope. He can fix this.

"You can have all the time you want sweetheart, but... I need to ask you a favor." Orion's body full relaxes, little fist clenched in the swell of your breast falling away, and you sigh.

"What is it?"

"When I'm away... I can turn my phone on every now and then, in specific places. D'you think you could send me some pictures? Or maybe I could call, when I'm able?"

"Of course."

He stays most of the night, until the sun comes up. Gets Ry back down, stands watch while you're in shower, helps you get settled in bed. There's a special place in his heart for you when you're soft and sweet and sleepy, a tiny kitten, curling up in the palm of his hand, purring. His moon. His everything.

"You be good for your mama, okay? I expect a good report when I get home. And try not to grow too much, alright little man?" He kisses his head, holding it there, walking around in the kitchen with Ry in his arms. "I love you, Orion. You and your mama. I'll be home real soon."

You turn the corner, something clenched in your hands, what, he can't tell, and you smile sadly. "I uh... I have something for you." He cocks, his head, shifting the baby to one arm, and you hold your fist out. "It's kind of dumb, honestly, but I thought you might... I don't know. I thought you might like it. I made it myself." It's a small fabric square, embroidered with a constellation, Orion's, he recognizes now, and a compass. "It's so you can always find it in the night sky. If you're in the northern hemisphere it should be south west, and if you're in the southern, it's in the north west. I didn't know like, what you could take with you but I figured this is small enough..." You look embarrassed, and all he wants to do is pull you into his arms and kiss you.

But he can't. He can only whisper your name, thick with emotion.

"It's great. I'll use it every night. Thank you." You blink, eyes wet, and then nod. He glances at his watch.

"Time to go?"

"Yeah," he hands you the baby, and picks up his duffle, the weight foreign now but still familiar. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

"I will."

"Promise me." He's stern, pushing a little bit of lieutenant into it, and you agree again, quickly.

"I will." You follow him to the door, holding Orion up for him to kiss one last time, and then he presses his mouth to your forehead, pleased when you don't pull away. He's dragging it out, the reluctance too ripe, and finally hangs his head in defeat after the too short minutes tick away.

"I'll see you soon." He gives you one last look, memorizing your face, Orion's, as much as he can, before heading down the hall.

"Simon," you call, turning him on a dime, "be careful, okay? Make sure... make sure you come home." Home.

"I will. I promise."

[hoshifighting]

      seokmin + window sex

— fucking with seokmin pressed on a window in Venice.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, window sex, penetrative sex, public sex, clit stimulation, smut under the cut.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

the air outside is humid and heavy, the scent of the venetian canals filling your lungs as you lean out the window, hands gripping the wooden frame for balance. the old, creaking glass rattles slightly as seokmin presses his weight into you from behind. you can hear the faint sounds of voices below in the narrow streets, people moving along as if nothing wild is happening just a few floors up.

“keep still, baby,” he whispers into your ear, breath hot against the back of your neck. his voice is sweet, all teasing laced with that honeyed tone that usually makes you weak. his hands roam over your hips, gripping tight, pulling you back into him, the cool air from outside brushing against the heat between your thighs and his body.

you let out a small gasp as he shifts, his lips tracing down the curve of your back, teeth grazing just enough to keep you on edge. “you know people could see us if they looked up?”

“shut up,” you hiss, though there’s no bite behind it. you try to focus on the view—the canals, the way the water glistens under the moonlight—but it’s impossible with the way seokmin’s hands are sliding down your thighs, the way he’s toying with you.

he lets out a quiet laugh, fingers finding their way between your legs, circling the wet throbbing clit making you bite your lip, trying to muffle the moan that threatens to spill out. “c’mon,” he presses, his lips now by your ear again. “don’t be shy. let them hear you.”

you can’t help it; the way he moves, the way he knows exactly how to touch you, it’s driving you crazy. the risk of being caught makes you even more eager, and before you know it, you’re pushing back into him, desperate for more, feeling the cool wood of the window frame press into your stomach.

“fuck, seokmin,” you pant, your hands gripping the frame even tighter, the rough edges digging into your palms, grounding you as he finally gives you what you’ve been aching for. his hips snap forward, and the feeling of him sliding into you pulls a gasp from your lips, one you can’t contain even if you tried.

“that’s it,” he growls, his voice lower now, more serious. his pace quickens, each thrust pushing you harder against the window, the soft breeze cooling your overheated skin. “you’re so good for me, babe,” he breathes, hands gripping your waist so hard you’re sure there’ll be marks in the morning.

the sound of the canal water lapping below, the distant murmur of voices, it all feels so far away, drowned out by his cock filling you and his balls slapping your clit.

and then he leans forward, his breath hot on your neck as he whispers, “look down, see if anyone’s watching.”

you don’t. not because you’re scared—but because you’re pretty sure someone is watching.

you don’t look, but the thought alone makes your knees to buckle. seokmin catches it, notices the way your breath hitches, the way your grip on the window tightens.

“yeah, i know you’re into it,” he says. “they’d be lucky to see you like this,” he continues, panting now as he fucks you harder, deeper. “all spread out, bent over this window, letting me fuck you raw like this.”

you let out a broken moan, your knees nearly buckling, but his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you back into him, giving you no escape, no way to pull yourself together.

“shit—fuck, seokmin,” you gasp, hips pushing back into him, your mind a mess. his cock hits that spot inside you that makes your eyes cross. the open air outside feels obscene, like you’re putting on a show for the world, but it only makes you wetter.

“look at you, can barely fucking stand,” he groans, his pace quickening, the slap of his skin against yours echoing through the room. “you’re dripping for me, baby. you want everyone down there to know how good i’m fucking you, don’t you?”

you don’t answer, can’t answer, too lost in the way his fingers are working you, the way every thrust is sending you lost lost. but he doesn’t let it go. his grip tightens, his hand leaving your waist to fist into your hair, tugging your head back just enough so you can’t avoid the view anymore.

“look,” he growls, a wicked smile in his voice. “look down at them.”

your eyes flutter open, and the sight below is dizzying—tourists strolling by, the water gently lapping at the sides of the walls. no one’s actually looking up. but the thought that they could, that anyone could just glance up and see you like this—fucked out, bent over a window in venice with seokmin pounding into you from behind—it makes your whole body clench.

“that’s it,” he groans, feeling your reaction, fingers pressing harder against your clit, moving faster. “god, you’re fucking filthy, you know that? all they’d have to do is look up, and they’d see how fucking desperate you are for me.”

his words send you over the edge. you cry out, your body tensing as the orgasm rips through you, legs shaking, barely able to keep yourself upright. seokmin’s pace doesn’t falter, his hips slamming into you harder, riding out your high, pushing you past the point of no return.

“fuck—yes, just like that,” he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. “gonna come all over this pretty ass, baby, gonna mark you up so they know exactly who you belong to.”

the thought of it, of him claiming you like this, in front of the whole damn city, has you gasping, body trembling, unable to think of anything but the filthy words spilling from his mouth. with one last rough thrust, he buries himself deep inside you only to pull back and spirt his cum on the skin of your ass, his grip on your hips bruising as he groans your name.

[silverstonesainz-archive]

one night only

─── only three floors up, marks the end of a night he could only ever dream of

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader warnings: nsfw!!! minors dni!!! (includes f receiving fingering, m receiving oral, & p in v, unprotected) foul language, and mentions of cheating.

His mouth is watering. As ridiculous as it sounds, his mouth is watering. He stands at the other end of the red carpet, waiting for his cue to take his walk when he sees you walk by in a sleek black, floor length dress. The neckline is high, tying around your neck, but the back hangs dangerously low. He admires the soft skin of your back, the way he can see the dimples sitting at the bottom of your spine. 

He’s never craved anything more in his life.

“Alright Charles, you’re all good to go.” The sweet lady smiles up at him, stepping back to give him room to walk across the carpet.

Charles mutters a thanks, nodding graciously before stepping out onto the carpet. After years of having phones and cameras shoved in his face, you would think he’d be used to the flashing and screams of him to look this way! He does his best, a tight lipped smile gracing his features as he tries to look at multiple cameras before walking further down the carpet. He tries to catch sight of you again, but instead he’s met with his first interviewer. The lady beams widely, introducing herself but Charles doesn’t hear her. He’s beginning to feel overwhelmed, the constant screaming and shouting for whoever else is walking down the carpet behind him. He tries to get through the interview, pulling out gracious answers about his team’s disaster season and his rise to and then unfortunate drop from the top. 

“Max! Max! Over here!”

Charles is slightly distracted, turning his head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of his friend and rival. But he has to do a double take when his green eyes catch a glimpse of a familiar sleek black dress. The reporter asks him another question, one he completely misses as he stares at you in awe. But what really gets to him is the way Max’s hand rests on the skin of your back, holding you flush against him. 

“Charles?” 

The lady next to him taps his shoulder, forcing Charles to tear his eyes off your figure. He can feel his face heat up, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Scusate! Potrebbe ripetere, per favore?” Sorry! Could you repeat that please?

He does his best to get through the rest of his walk, taking more photos and answering more questions until he finally gets to the entrance of the gala. He finds his table, sitting down and immediately going on his phone. It isn’t long until the event begins and introductions are made. Most of the event is a blur, Charles drowning his sorrows in flutes of champagne and overcooked steak. 

He barely registers his name being announced, a proud call to his achievement of Vice Champion. The Monegasque smiles curtly at his peers, mouths thanks to those who clap for him. And as he steps up on the stage to accept his trophy, his eyes scan the crowd. He knows exactly what– or rather, who– he is looking for. And in the sea of wide eyes, he was looking for one pair in particular. And then he spots you. Charles shouldn’t be surprised that you were looking at him, everyone is looking at him. He should be used to hundreds of eyes on him, hell he should be used to millions. But your eyes are the only pair that light his every nerve ending ablaze. You’re leaning forward, elbows on the table as your cheek rests in your right hand. Your eyes are wide, stuck to him under the bright lights that illuminate the stage. His suit suddenly feels too tight, the spotlight overheating him. He might pass out. 

But he doesn’t let it show. The media training from years of being in front of the camera takes over, ready made responses roll off his tongue. He says his thanks to his team, to the people in the factory, to Mattia, to his family and to all the people who helped him along the way. He wonders if you know he meant you. From the way you shift in your seat, he would guess yes. He wants to smile at you, to acknowledge you in some way if not with words, but then he sees Max lean in and whisper something in your ear. His stomach turns at how quickly you look away from him, how you lean into the man’s touch. He forces himself to look away, to avert his gaze towards his brother who just smiles up at him, unknowing of the younger Leclerc’s turmoil.

The applause grows in volumes, cueing him to wave and walk back to his seat. As he lowers himself into his chair, his hand loosens the tie around his neck. Several people at the table congratulate him personally with kind smiles and gentle pats. He thanks them all before reaching for the glass of water and drinking all that’s left in it. 

“Est-ce que ça va?” Are you okay? 

Charles nods at his older brother, setting the glass. “Oui. Juste au chaud..." Yes, just warm…

The night drags along for Charles. More awards, more applause, more champagne. By the end of the night, he was a little more intoxicated than he should be at a work function. He clutches onto the trophy, his trophy, as he exits the ballroom, listening to the people directing him to his next photo-op. The champagne is swirling in his head, making the floor beneath him tilt left to right ever so slightly. For a man whose career depends on accuracy and balance, he was lacking some in that very moment. Charles is greeted by even more people, more champions and winners alike, all with their own trophies cradled in their arms. 

“Charles, if we could have you stand next to Max please.” A man rests his hand on Charles’s shoulder, his other arm extended to point to the spot next to his fellow driver. 

Charles makes eye contact with Max, and both drivers exchange awkward, closed mouth smiles. The Monegasque driver walks over, planting himself close enough to his friend for their shoulders to be touching. His grip on his trophy tightens, worried he may make a fool of himself and drop it. His knees lock, and he stumbles a bit in his place, effectively bumping into Max. The Dutch boy chuckles softly, eyes crinkling as he watches Charles regain his balance. 

“Too much champagne, no?”

Charles’s cheeks tinge red as he nods, “Way too much mate.”

The two drivers laugh, and the press has a field day. Shutters and flashes go off, trying to capture the moment of camaraderie between the rivals. The not-so-rare moments of laughter and conversation between the two of them are a must see shot, and Charles is sure they’d be plastered on every newspaper, blog, and instagram by the time he wakes the next morning. 

They take a couple more pictures, more posed than the last, and a couple of shots where both men hold their trophy high and proud. Then they walk off, as if the moment never happened. Max bids him adieu, a happy holiday season, and Charles does the same before being led to the next photo-op or interview, whichever was left on his agenda for the night. 

But then he spots you again, waiting patiently behind all the cameras for Max. He can’t help the jealousy bubbling in him at the way you smile at his rival, how soft your eyes are for him. He watches the way your hand finds Max’s arm, the way it slips down the black sleeve of his jacket, fingers finding refuge between his. His dinner begins to climb up his throat, and he forces it back down with a thick swallow. And for the briefest of moments, he sees your eyes flicker from Max to him. Charles watches for your reaction, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. Instead you return your gaze to the man in front of you, a small smile and subtle nod like you’ve been listening to him the entire time.

The night ends much later than Charles would have preferred. He was finally allowed to leave after the third photo-op with his Vice Champion Trophy. He’s sick of the flashes, of the shutters, of all the congratulations and hopeful stares. He didn’t want to spend another moment in that room, with the constant reminder that he was second best at something he poured his heart and soul into. He couldn’t handle it.

Lorenzo drops his younger brother home, but not without another round of congratulations. "Félicitations Charles. Nous sommes si fiers, papa est si fier.” Congratulations Charles. We are so proud, papa is so proud.

Charles walks up to his front door with his head hanging low, remnants of his one too many glasses of champagne weighing him down. He fumbles with his keys, forcing it into the knob as he quickly unlocks his door and shoves it open. With a huff, he drops all his belongings on the side table in the foyer, the silver trophy included. He’d deal with it in the morning. 

He undoes his tie, unbuttons his shirt, and shrugs off his Ferrari jacket. It isn’t long until he’s left in his briefs, falling onto his plush couch and flicking on the TV to fill his empty Monaco apartment. The pad of his thumb presses the plus on the remote, moving through Monaco’s late night TV. He lands on a dubbed version of Friends, lowering the volume level until he can barely hear Joey and Chandler’s voices. He lays back against a throw pillow, letting the hum of the television lull him to sleep. 

Dreams don’t happen very often for Charles. Between jet lag, the limited hours of sleep, and his mind filled with the car, the care and nothing but the car, there wasn’t much left in him to dream of anything else. Tonight would be the first time in a long time, with the help of Brut, does he finally dream of something worth remembering. But it comes in flashes, flickering so fast he can barely keep up with the changing scenes. It’s bright eyes that stare up at him through thick lashes. Flushed, clammy cheeks that have strands of hair sticking to them. Pink, swollen lips, wet with spit. Pink swollen lips, wrapped around him. 

The knock on his front door pulls him from his dream. Charles groans softly, shifting on the plush couch as he chases a flicker of his imagination. He hoped that the knocking would go away, that he’d return to a fantasy that only lives in his mind. But the knocking returns, louder against the hardwood of his front door. It’s still dark out. He couldn’t have been asleep for longer than an hour. When Charles looks at his phone, it reads 1:03 AM, and he groans. His dick is painfully hard, aching over the dream he just had. Charles pries his eyes open, looking down at his black briefs, the bulge of his hard cock more prominent than he expected.

The person on the other side of his door knocks a third time, this time louder and much more desperate. He mutters tired, French nonsense as he drags himself to the front door in his underwear and socks. He doesn’t even bother to check who’s even knocking, his hazy mind assuming it’s his younger brother in drunken stupor, or better yet a fellow driver in need of something. He makes half an effort to adjust himself, not in the mood to give whoever was at his front door a free show– or an explanation as to why he was hard at one in the morning, all by his lonesome. 

The last thing he expects to see is you, still in the same sleek black gown and mascara smudged on your waterline and pink cheeks. Flushed, clammy cheeks that have strands of hair sticking to them. He’s awake now, wide awake. 

“Can I come in?” 

How could he deny you? So of course, he steps aside and allows you to step into his home. He shuts the door behind him, leaning against the hardwood as he watches you move about his space. With your back to him, he adjusts himself again, suddenly very self conscious about his state. But you don’t seem to notice, setting your purse down next to his pile of belongings on the entryway table. You don’t even acknowledge the obnoxious silver trophy sitting right there, walking right past it to fall onto the couch. 

Charles grabs a worn jumper and puma athletic shorts that rests on a chair, slipping it over his body. When he looks over at you, your head is in your hands and your shoulders shaking up and down. He frowns, listening to your quiet cries, unsure of what he can do to make everything better. He figures he could start with a glass of water. You hear him move behind you, the clinking of dishes and gentle thuds of cabinets closing. You hear the water running, and then the soft pit pat of Charles’s feet as he makes his way over to you. 

He kneels in front of you, glass of water in hand. You finally look up from your hands, and Charles offers you a reassuring smile. He offers you the glass, and you take it from his grasp. Charles moves to sit next to you, leaving a couple of inches between the two of you. He watches you as you gulp down the water, watching it move down your throat like it was the first time you had drunken water in days. You set the glass down on the coffee table, eyes flickering up to the TV.

“You were watching Friends?”

Charles’s gaze shifts to the TV, watching as Rachel talks with Ross. The volume isn’t loud enough for him to understand what they’re talking about, but he’s seen this episode before. “Mmm, yeah. Needed some background noise so it wouldn’t be so quiet.”

You nod, looking at the expanse of his home. It’s messy, with clothes strewn everywhere and miscellaneous items placed in places they don’t belong. The biggest shock is that there aren’t any dirty dishes lying around, but you could chuck that up to the fact he probably doesn’t eat at home very often. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks you. 

You shake your head, “I just want to go to sleep Charles, and forget that tonight ever happened.” 

He doesn’t push any further, even if he is curious over your current state. He wants to know what made you cry, why your first instinct is to come to his apartment in the early hours of the morning, that you knew you could find refuge with him. Maybe it was for an ego boost, or yet again another thing for him to use to justify why he keeps letting you into his life. 

He leads you into his room. His room is probably the tidiest place in the whole apartment, it almost looks untouched. You watch as he pulls out drawers and cabinet doors, handing you a shirt of his and a pair of boxers. When you retreat to the bathroom, Charles pulls back the covers, spraying a bit of the room spray his mom got him to get rid of the mothy smell. He hadn’t slept in his own bed in months, it almost felt wrong to be standing in his room at that moment. He’d spent the better part of the year on the road, and even while on breaks he found it hard to sleep in the quiet of his own apartment. 

You come out of the bathroom not too long later, rubbing your eyes as you make your way over to bed and climbing in. Charles stands awkwardly, watching as you pull the covers over your body. He watches as you fluff the pillows, shifting them around to create more space. 

“Are you going to join me?”

Charles can’t help the knowing smile that graces his lips, shaking his head subtly. “I really shouldn’t…”

“Please? It’s not like we haven’t before…”

A point was made. But there weren’t any boundaries before. Nothing was holding him back before, but now… now there's far too much. He should’ve shook his head, said good night, and returned to his place on the couch, letting Friends put him back to sleep.

But you sit in his bed, wearing his clothes, staring at him with a stare he can’t ever say no too. So with a sigh, he moves to the space you’ve left for him in the bed, laying under the covers as you cozy up to his side like you’ve done in the past. Your fingers lay on his sweater clad chest, pressing the fuzzy lining against his burning skin. Your face is nuzzled into his neck, warm body so dangerously close to him. It’s sickening, how right it all feels.

“Why are you so stiff?”

Was he? He didn’t notice. Charles puffs out a breath through pursed lips, a dry chuckle rumbling from his throat. You pull your head from the crook of his neck to look up at him. He feels your gaze, but he refuses to give into the urge to turn and look right back at you. But he sees your wide eyes, the questioning in your gaze as you patiently wait for an explanation. 

“I dunno.” He finally says. “I didn’t even realize.” 

You lift your head, perching it in the palm of your hand with your elbow digging into the pillow next to him. Now he can see you, see the way your brows are furrowed almost playfully, as if you aren’t convinced of his answer. Charles turns his head slightly, just enough that you could see all of him under the blue light of the moon peeking through his windows. He offers you a small smile, a soft whisper of hello, one you return with the same soft hi. 

“I’ve missed you,” You confess. 

It should’ve made him angry. The revelation should’ve reminded him of the reality of you and him. It should’ve been a swift slap to the face, a reminder of why you miss him when he’s been available to you all this time. You chose to stray far, to find happiness elsewhere. But instead it clouds his vision. Pulls him further and further to a reality that was only meant to live in his head– in the daydreams he kept in idle time. He reaches up towards you. He shouldn’t have. His fingers brush the hair back behind your ear– it burns him. Charles feels himself lean into you as your other hand comes up to comb themselves through his hair, pushing it back while your nails gently scratch his scalp. Your hand comes down from the top of his head, sliding effortlessly along his skin, cupping his cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He hums softly, another sweet smile on his lips as he lets his head fall into your hold. 

“You miss me?”

“You know I do.”

You lay like that for what feels like eternity. A blissful eternity. 

Charles’s index finger traces from the top of your temple, along the outline of your face. It’s slow, soft, damn right sensual the way he traces every dip and curve. You feel his calloused skin along your jaw, down the length of your throat. You gulp. He smirks. 

“I like when you do that.” You whisper.

He hums softly, index finger tracing back up your throat. His name tumbles from your lips, breathy and nervous. He chuckles. You almost hate him for it. 

Charles drops his hand after he traces your shoulder. You let out a breath and he laughs softly. “You should go to bed.”

“I’m not tired.”

You fully sit up now, relieving your arm from carrying the weight of your head. Charles doesn’t move, he just watches as you fiddle in your spot until you decide you’re comfortable. He turns his head to the table by his bed, bright red numbers reading 1:56 AM. When he returns his gaze on you, he catches you tying up your hair, arms stretched over your head as you pull the length of your locks through the white scrunchie. His shirt rides up your body slightly, just enough to catch the black lace of your panties hugging the flesh of your hips. 

His mind is hazy as flickers of his dream begin to replay in his mind. His cock twitches in his briefs, he shifts uncomfortable under the covers. You don’t notice, instead laying back down by him in the same position you once were: head in the crook of his neck and hand splayed over his chest. He wonders if you feel the rapid thump of his heart, the way it shakes his ribcage. 

You do. “Your heart is beating so fast.” 

He has no response. And with the lack of one, your fingers leave his chest and find themselves under his sweatshirt. Charles gasps at the cool pad of your fingers dancing along the muscles over his abdomen and up to the skin of his left peck. If his heart wasn’t ready to jump out of his chest into your hands then, it surely is now. For the second time tonight, you lift your head to look down at him. He turns his head this time, tips of your noses brushing when he does so. Charles rests his hand over yours, the soft material of the jumper the only barrier between his skin and yours. 

He answers the question you ask with your eyes, the why clearly expressed in them. “This is what you do to me.” You bite down on your bottom lip, breath hitched in the back of your throat. His heart doesn’t cease, it doesn’t find its normal rhythm the longer you hold it. It beats excitedly for you. “Whenever you look at me, touch me, god you could simply enter a room and my heart is in a frenzy.”

“Charles…” You are breathless again. Nothing else follows his name, not when he slowly sits up and you are forced to back up and fall onto your back. His hand is back on your face, the joint of his index finger trailing down the side of your face. The tip of your nose tickles his, a taunt at just how close his lips are to yours. 

His head inches forward, but backs up in the same beat. What is he doing? You are no longer his to ruin, no longer his to make you tremble the way he is now. He feels how your body goes rigid in anticipation, waiting to see how he will touch you and how you will melt into him. He watches the way your eyes scan his face, micromovements from left to right as you count the seconds until he moves. You are a vision, laid out before him, a perfectly painted picture that he thought he’d only ever see in his dreams. 

Charles is a selfish man, he finds out. Selfish when it comes to you, selfish when it comes to consuming you. And maybe it’s his rival, your boyfriend,  just three floors up probably wondering where you’d gone that gets him off. The way you don’t push him off when his nose bumps yours, or the breath that shakes your chest when he inches his head forward again. It’s the way you welcome him dangerously close, that convinces him that what is bound to happen, is okay. He smirks, the corner of his lip curled upwards at the thought. Max might’ve won the championship, but you’re here in his bed, waiting for him to make a move.  

“Pourquoi es-tu ici, belle?” Why are you here, beautiful? He whispers, the ghost of his lips on yours, “Hm?” He pulls away again, fingers coming up to tuck your hair behind your ear again. “pourquoi es-tu dans mon lit?” why are you in my bed? 

Words have yet to leave you, to tumble past your lips to tell him to stop. Your hands had ample time to push him off, to say goodnight and find your rest from the long night behind you. But the scent of Charles at two in the morning, the smell of minty mouthwash while he speaks to you, the pads of your fingers touching you so tenderly is all but a ruse to convince you not to stop what is surely about to unravel. You feel the torch being lit in your gut, the way your cunt aches for him. 

And you are no better than to deny yourself of getting your fill of Charles.

You meet him halfway, much to the Monegasque’s surprise. Your lips mold into his, and Charles is quick to reciprocate the movements, his hand coming up to the back of your head to pull you even closer to him. The kiss is sloppy, a mess of teeth and spit as you pull onto each other in desperation. Charles shifts his body over yours, cock growing hard at the way your legs fall open and make room for his body. 

No time is wasted as he grounds his hips against yours, hard member rubbing against your clothed center. You sigh into his mouth, fingers clawing and gripping at his brown locks in your tightly wound fists. He rocks you back and forth as he pressed himself against you. Soft grunts and groans bubble from Charles, vibrating against your lips before he pulls away and leaves wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck. You release his hair, fingers gripping the back of his sweatshirt and pulling it up and over his head. Charles kneels between your legs, finishing the job for you as he slides the sleeves off his arms and the neckline over his head before tossing it on the floor somewhere in the room. 

His chest heaves as he stares down at you, links pink and plump, wet with you. You blush, fingertips reaching up to lay flat against his toned abdomen, sliding your hand down towards the hem of his shorts. Charles doesn’t move a muscle, allowing you to pull on the waistband of the team provided shorts, snapping against his skin. He scowls playfully, right hand dipping under his shirt on your body, laying flat against the top of your underwear.

“Je peux jouer aussi, amour.” I can play too, love.

You try to buck your hips up, encourage the boy above you to touch you where you’ve dreamt of him touching you. But he presses down on you firmly, restricting you from moving all too much. You whine softly, and he smiles. Charles leans down to find your lips with his, kissing you so hard you feel your head spin. Both your hands come up to cup his cheeks, to keep him from leaving you again. 

The joys of a Formula One driver, you realize, is how great they are at multitasking. They’re quick on their feet, able to focus their mind on one thing while their body acts on a different task. Charles is the greatest testament to this, with how quickly he pulls off his shorts while his lips remain attached to yours. His fingers tug on your underwear, pulling it down your legs to give his middle finger the room to slide against you. He feels your body relax under him, how you melt into his hold, lips lazily keeping up with him as he kisses you. His middle finger moves up and down, up and down, collecting your arousal before pushing it into you. You moan his name at the feeling of his finger stretching you out ever so slightly, the way he curls it to tickle your g-spot before pulling it out. 

Charles pulls away from the kiss, eyes casted downwards as he watches the way his middle and now ring finger dance along your pussy. Up and down, clit snug between the pad of his fingers as he presses down lightly. You shudder, a soft grunt coming from you when he does so. He smiles, sliding his fingers down towards your entrance, eyes back on yours as he pushes his digits into you. A fire is lit in his stomach at the way your brows furrowed, the soft whines the push past your lips. You don’t see the way he smiles, not with your eyes squeezed shut as he fucks his fingers into you. 

You aren’t sure how long you’d last with the way he pumps his fingers in and out, over and over. The fuse has been lit, you feel yourself inching closer to the edge. But you know Charles just as much as he knows you. You predict the exact second he’d pull his fingers out of you, the sigh that leaves your lips when he does, and your orgasm deflating inside you. What you count on is his husky voice commanding you to open your mouth. To that your eyes fly open, staring up at him curiously, only to be met with dark eyes and his tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

“Open your mouth, belle.” He says again. 

You do so, with much hesitation. Pink lips part, and Charles can’t help but picture the way they’d look wrapped around his cock. The way he’d fit perfectly in your throat like he does in your pussy. He aches. Your lips are parted, tongue partially out, and he rests the fingers the were once inside you on it. 

“Sucer.” 

Your pupils are blown, no more second guessing as your lips clamp around his digits and you begin to suck off your own arousal. You stare up at him with lust-glazed eyes, bobbing your head up and down on his fingers. 

“You like the taste of yourself, belle?” He taunts, “The taste of what I’ve done to you.” You moan softly, nodding on his fingers. “I wanna feel that mouth elsewhere.” 

He pries his fingers from your mouth, allowing you to push him off and onto his back. It is your turn to find your place between his legs, fingers quick to grasp onto the waistband of his black briefs and pulling them down his legs. His cock springs up, smacking against his belly, veiny and angry, already leaking with precum. Charles rests himself on the headboard, hands behind his head as he awaits your mouth. 

You were never as teasing as Charles is, never one to play games in the heat of the moment. You played on your desperation, played on your cock-starved self as you pumped your right hand on the hardened shaft of his dick, pursed lips pressing a kiss to its head. You kiss your way down his length, and it’s when you’re at the base of his dick do you finally lay your soft tongue flat against him and lick upwards. He groans softly, watching as you lick up and taking him into your mouth all in one swift, fluid movement. The sight proves to be better than what any dream could ever make up. Your eyes are brighter than he’d ever imagine, filled with lust as they stare up at him through thick lashes. Flushed, clammy cheeks have strands of hair sticking to them. Pink, swollen lips, wet with spit. Pink swollen lips, wrapped around him.

He savors the feeling of the warmth of your mouth around his length, the way your head bobs up and down, and the soft gagging each time he hits the back of your throat. You stroke his ego with the sloppy sounds, the way you try to suck him off all while simultaneously trying to swallow the excess spit the drips from your mouth. Charles’s left hand comes to hold your hair in his fist, his right cupping your jaw as his thumb begins to rub circles on the hinge of your jaw. 

“You’re so pretty like this baby, choking on my cock,” He hums, tilting his head to get a better view of your tear stained cheeks. “You’re so good to me.” 

You hum around him, throat relaxed as you take as much of him as you can. Charles throws his head back in ecstasy, the head of his dick squeezed tightly at the top of your throat. He could’ve came right there, spurting his seed for you to swallow. But he stops himself, yanking the ponytail in his fist. You gasp for air, looking up at him with wide eyes and drool sliding down your chin. Charles’s cock twitches. If he could’ve taken a picture, he would’ve. 

Instead, he guides your head up to him, thumb pressing down on your bottom lip to swipe away the excess spit from the blowjob you had just given him. Then he presses a kiss on your lips swiftly, hands moving to grab your hips and pull your core over him. You allow yourself to sit on him, slick cunt sliding along the length of Charles’s dick. He hisses against your mouth, lips forced from yours as he looks down at the way you rock your hips against him. 

Your hands cup either side of his jaw, forcing his gaze to return to you. And when his green eyes bore into yours, your hips stop moving. Charles’s grip on your hips loosen, but they still hold you with such force, warmth from his palms penetrating your skin. Both your chests are heaving, gasping for air as you try to come down from the intense moments shared not too long ago. His eyes study your face, pick at every mole and every scar, every little detail he committed to memory because who knows when he’d ever see you this way again. 

You pull his shirt off your body, completely bare before him.

“I want you.” Your voice is soft, a whisper, as if you’re afraid the man three floors above this one would hear your confession. 

“I’m yours.” 

Neither of you take the words for its surface level meaning, nevermind the deeper connotation that it held. He’d never know just how much you meant the words I want you, if you meant them the way he meant I’m yours. But he’s okay with that. He’s learned to be okay with never knowing. For him, those two words held so much truth, it held his heart together. Two words allowed the moments to follow it to be okay, to be something you would both carry with the other til your six feet beneath shit soil at a cemetery on a hill. 

The way Charles kisses you is an outpour of everything he feels for you, every ounce of love for you that sits in his chest. It’s every word unspoken, every touch not shared, every memory he wished he could’ve made with you. It’s filled with everything he has left to give you, and he lets you take every last drop. His mind is hazy, unable to decipher the way you kiss him back, just accepting the languid motions of your lips moving with his. His hands guide your hips upwards, while yours grip his cock to line it up to your entrance. Slowly, then all at once, you sink down onto him. A mix of muffled moans fill the room, the sweet rush of relief as Charles fills you up with every inch of him. Your breath is hot against his face as you struggle to breathe. He feels you clench around him, hugging him so beautifully he wished you could stay like this forever. 

He let you set the pace, watching the rise and fall of your hips as you bounce on his dick. It’s slow, deliberate, sure to take all of him with each stroke. He savors your warmth and wet, savors the way your cunt is made for him. His eyes fall shut, senses heightened with the loss of one. Your nails dig into the skin of his chest as you pick up the pace, desperate for your own release. Charles lets you use him to get off, to chase the orgasm you so desperately crave. He forces his eyes open to watch as you slowly fall apart above him, the mess of moans, the whines and call of his name as you tremble around him. He feels your pussy pulsate around him, your cum dripping all over him. 

You lean your head onto his chest, pressing a chaste kiss above his right nipple. 

“Do you have one more in you baby?” He asks, lifting your off of him and flipping you over so that he is hovering above you. You nod lazily, arms wrapping loosely around his neck. “That’s my girl.” 

Charles does the work, pumping his shaft that’s wet with your slick. He rubs the head of his dick along your slit before plunging into you once more. You cry out in pleasure, arms tightening around him as you pull him closer. His hips roll into yours, pushing in and out of you. It’s almost perfect, the way he fucks you while your heels dig into his tailbone to pull him in closer. The way he kisses you so tenderly while fucking you into his mattress. Your hands release him, clambering above you to grip onto the pillow. Charles is so close, and he knows you are right behind him. He licks his index and middle finger before placing them onto your sensitive clit, rubbing circles over and over until you come undone once more. It’s your orgasm, the way your cunt holds him, the way you chant his name over and over like a disciple to their messiah, the way your chest puffs up into him, that pushes him over the edge into his own euphoria. He fills you up with his cum, your name leaving his lips in breathless sigh. 

I’m yours, he thinks to himself, not just for tonight. For always.

He looks up at you, heart filled with warmth as you smile at him. Not a sliver of regret, just pure ecstasy. Charles pulls out of your reluctantly, only leaning in to press a quick kiss onto your lips over running into the bathroom for a wash cloth. He cleans you up, and then himself, before rolling back into his place in bed. And for the third time that night, you find yourself with your head buried in the crook of his neck and your hand resting on his chest. 

Panic sets in when you let your exhaustion take you. Not an ounce of regret, no. He’d never regret the opportunity to fuck you, to slip inside you and feel your warmth around him. No, never. The Monegasque panics for you, for his moments of selfishness turning you into a liar. He panics because just three floors above him is your boyfriend in bed, in bed where you are meant to be. He wonders how you manage to fall asleep so easily, how you melt into him like it’s all you’ve ever known. He’s now too afraid to hold you properly, too afraid to let his hand find refuge on your skin. How does he let you go now? How does he let you walk out of his home after tonight? 

He doesn’t know that. But he does know that when the sun rises in a couple of hours, he would have to.

While you fall asleep, the Monegasque stares at the ceiling. Nothing, not even the sound of your mellow breathing eases his quick beating heart, eases the anxieties building in his chest. He stays awake until the sky shifts from black to blue and the sun begins to peek through the curtains, teasing a new day.

Your phone rings, pulling you from your dreamless sleep. You remove yourself from Charles’s hold, rolling over to grab your phone on the nightstand to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, where are you? I’ve been calling you all night.” 

Charles watches as you shoot up from your place in bed, hand still resting on his chest. He sees it now, the panic, the sliver of regret he was searching for just hours prior. He watches as you offer an excuse easily, almost naturally, while moving about Charles’s room to pick up your belongings. You crashed at a friend’s place, is the excuse you give Max on the other end of the line. Charles hears the soft tenor of the Dutchman’s voice as he pleads for you to return home, a plethora of apologies tumbling out of the receiver. 

You bid adieu to the man on the other end of the phone, hanging up immediately after. You try not to look at Charles, not as you pick up your discarded underwear and the dress from the night before. Charles gets up behind you, not saying a word as he walks out of his room, only returning with a glass of water. You give him a quiet thank you, gulping it down before finally looking up at him. 

Neither of you want to address the mess made in bed nor the words with secret meanings. There is an unspoken agreement that neither of you would ever mention it, that last night would fizzle out and be left as a secret between him, you, and the moon. So Charles takes the empty glass from your grasp instead, setting it on his night stand.

“That was Max?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

You nod, “Yeah. Yeah, it’s Max."

He hates the way he has to tiptoe around you now, forced to forget the way you were just wrapped around him hours ago. Now he has to stand there, offer you a smile like a friend would. Like a friend should.

"Our little secret, yeah?" You whisper, brows furrowed but eyes filled with pleas that he'd agree.

He's a selfish man when it comes to you. Charles can't lie to himself about the twisted imagination of how he'd let it slip, let it be known to the champion that he had his way with the greatest prize of all.

But for you, he would never be selfish. Whatever you asked, he followed. So he nods, a pained smile painted on his pink lips.

"Our little secret."

"Listen…” You pause, eyes moving to trace the tired features of the boy before you. “Thank you for letting me in, and for letting me spend the night.” 

Charles nods, doing his best to mask his pain and perturbation behind a smile. But you see right through his up-curved lips, behind the faint squint of his eyes and the light indentation of his dimples. 

“Of course, anything for you.” 

Guilt warps your features. He’s glad it does. He wished you would’ve just walked out, said goodbye and went on your way. But instead you open your arms and wrap them around his neck. And he lets you. Charles returns the gesture with very little hesitation. His arms wrap around your middle, face burying itself in your neck as he holds you close to him. He holds you like his life depends on it, like it’s the last time he would ever hold you.

The sentiment is shared.

This was the hard part, the “letting you go” even though you were never really his to keep anyways. This is the part he dreads the most. You were his, but for a night. One night only. 

He walks you to the door, leaning against the frame as he watches you go down the hallway of his apartment complex.

“Goodbye Charles.” 

He sends you off with a tired smile, and resentment in his chest. He waves as you turn back and make your way further and further from him. Sends you off with the last of him, watching as your hair sways and your head lifted high. He watches as you make your way to go three floors up, where a harsh and cold reality sits waiting for you. Three floors up, to a man who has taken everything from him. Three floors up, where you belong.

note: do i hate the ending of this? a little. but i hope you like this. as always, feedback is so greatly appreciated. smooches.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Right Time and Place

Summary: There's no time like the present.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut - this is just all smut. Pretty much zero plot to this porn. Unprotected P in V sex, oral (f receiving) vaginal fingering, size kink (kinda), Dean being a cocky little shit, Dean being a sweet bit of sunshine.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader (You)

Word Count: 1,726

A/N: K, I saw this little writing prompt earlier today and it inspired this smutty scenario. The prompt will be in bold, I changed it ever so slightly. Hope you enjoy it!! ❤️

P.S. I wrote this quickly - so sorry for the mistakes!

Master List

“This…is not…the right…time.” 

You pant into Dean’s ear as he sucks hard on a spot just below your jaw, leaving a purple bruise behind before he responds.

His voice is deep, rough and muffled against your skin. “Was there ever gonna be a right time?”

You try to answer but it turns into a gasp as he slides down the zipper on the side of your little black dress. It falls to pool at your feet and leaves you in your strapless black push up bra and matching panties.

“Fuck me.” Dean moans as his gaze sweeps up and down your body. “This is exactly the kind of perfect I knew you’d be.”

His words are slightly confusing to you and you don’t know whether it’s because what he said makes no sense or if it’s simply that your mind is spinning. This is the last place you’d expected to be tonight. 

For god’s sake -

“We’re in the middle of a case.” You finish your admonishment out loud. It loses its authority, however, when you end on a whimper. Dean is on his knees now in the large, walk-in linen closet that he’d pulled you into just minutes earlier. His teeth scrape your hip bone as he nibbles there and you try to protest again.

You’re supposed to be looking for a cursed object.

You struggle to find words as his mouth trails across your belly, his lips like silk, before his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

“I don’t even…I really don’t even like you.” The words are all breath as you sink your fingers into his short hair.

“Really, sweetheart?” You can feel Dean smirk against your skin before kissing a path over your hip, following his fingers as they lower your panties. He groans when he sees the way your pussy is glistening, wet and waiting. “That’s too bad, cause I really like you.”

He leans forward, licking up through your folds and your knees give out. But he quickly presses you back against the wall with one big hand flat on your stomach. His tongue dips into you, teasing your entrance, just barely pushing in the tip before pulling it out and flicking it against your clit.

You push a fist hard against your mouth to stop from screaming out the pleasure that rushes through you from head to toe. There’s a lavish gala party happening one floor below you and the last thing you need is people rushing upstairs to find out why someone is screaming. 

But Dean's mouth is pulling you apart, making you shudder and buck your hips forward. You sling your left leg over his tuxedo-clad shoulder, digging your heel into his muscled back and urging him on.

He takes the hint and one of his thick fingers slides into your quivering cunt. A choked sound of need falls from your throat and Dean chuckles.

“How ya like me now, baby?” He teases, his breath hot even against your overheated skin.

You shake your head. “You're such…a complete…idiot.” You pant.

Dean pulls his finger out of you and takes his mouth away to look up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Want me to stop?”

Your body trembles at the mere thought of it; as much as you and Dean bicker and shout at each other there’s no denying that sparks have been flying between you from your first sight of him. You'd been fantasizing this moment for months and you knew you'd never survive him walking away now.

You shake your head at him. “Never.” You tell him succinctly. “Don't ever stop.”

You buck your hips forward again and give up all pretense of resistance, pushing your heel into his back once again. “Please, Dean, fuck me.”

You watch Dean's emerald eyes darken as his pupils dilate. “If you say so, sweetheart.” 

His mouth is immediately back on you, sucking your clit into his mouth as he shoves two fingers deep inside you.

You cry out, the sound loud and keening. You know you’re running the risk of someone hearing you, but you can't stop the sounds every time Dean swipes the rough pads of his fingertips across your g-spot. 

You reach towards him and pull his bowtie loose and then yank it from around his neck. You shove the silk material into your mouth just in time to muffle your shout of ecstasy as Dean quickly and easily rips your orgasm out of you. He continues to suck on your clit, and tease your sweet spot all through your bone-shaking release.

While your whole body is still trembling, Dean stands up, and pulls the bowtie out of your mouth so he can kiss you, the tang of your pleasure still clinging to his lips. 

You shove his black tuxedo jacket off his shoulders, pulling his crisp white shirt free from his dress pants as he unzips them and pushes them down. You try not to rip the buttons on his shirt - you know the tux is a rental. 

But by the time you get to the last few, your fingers are too desperate to touch his warm, taut skin and you just rip the shirt open, hearing a couple of the buttons scatter across the closet floor.

Neither one of you cares very much, though, as you finally get your hands on his muscled torso and he lifts your leg to his hip. You can feel his hot, hard length rubbing gloriously through your folds before he grabs his cock and guides it smoothly into your welcoming heat.

Your hands are gripping his shoulders under his shirt and you dig your nails in as he bottoms out. He's stretched you so wide and is pressed so deep that it almost hurts. You tense up slightly and he stops moving inside you. He pushes his free hand between your bodies, pressing against your clit and circling his middle finger there. 

You thump your head back against the wall and roll it back and forth, mumbling nonsense, your brain scattered.

Dean frowns and catches your chin in his fingers. “I can't understand you, baby, and I need to know if I'm hurting you. I'll stop if you want.”

But you’re shaking your head before he finishes. “No, fuck no, Dean. Please don't stop. I just need a minute. You're so fucking big.”

The concern in his eyes melts into cockiness and a smirk hitches the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, sweetheart. Take all the time you need.” 

He continues to press his hard middle finger against your overly sensitive bundle of nerves and despite the smug little grin he wears now, his earlier concern and his willingness to stop in the very heat of the moment, burrow their way into your heart and you know you won't be able to root them out.

As he presses harder on your clit, your body explodes into nothing but nerve endings and burning bliss. Your cunt squeezes Dean's fat cock, buried so deep, and he groans harshly, his face buried in your neck. His fingers squeeze into the thigh he's holding against his hip, pressing so hard you know he'll leave bruises.

And yet, he still doesn't move inside you. You asked for time and he's giving it, even though you can feel how rock hard he is inside you.

Inexplicably you feel slightly choked up as you pull his head up from your neck and slot your mouth over his. His lips are so soft, and so sensual they make you shiver. Pleasure shoots to your core as he sucks gently on your top lip.

Finally, you whisper against his lips. “You can move now. Please move now. I need you, need to feel you fill me up over and over.”

Dean groans and pulls out of your body so he can slowly push back in. He keeps the same steady, slow pace, pushing and pulling against your clenching walls until you can't take it anymore.

“Faster Dean! Please, I need you faster and harder.” You mewl against his shoulder. 

Dropping your leg, he pulls out of your body. Before you can properly protest the loss of him, he's spun you around and bent you double. Your hands are braced against a step stool beside a shelf full of towels and toiletries.

He kicks your feet wide and then reaches around to stuff the bowtie back in your mouth.

“You'll probably need this again.” He says, his voice cocky once more.

You think about pulling the tie out and throwing back some kind of witty barb, but your words fail you completely as he slams himself home, his cock head perfectly hitting your sweet spot. You do indeed need to muffle the noise as he repeats the move, and leaves you shaking and screaming with want and need.

In a mere four or five strokes you're climaxing again, your cunt clutching and milking his cock as you feel him slam bruisingly against your cervix and then spill deep inside you. 

You're both shaking from the force of your climaxes as you take the silk cloth out of your mouth so you can pant easier. 

Dean slowly pulls out of you with a deep, barely suppressed moan. Your muscles feel too weak to move, so you're in the same position as he grabs a clean cloth from the shelf and uses the soft cotton to clean up the mess he left behind.

Finally he tosses the cloth into the hamper a few feet away and helps you stand up straight. Then he grabs your panties and helps you step into them. 

He runs his fingertip along the top of your bra. “Never even got to see these beauties.” His pout makes you laugh.

You make him groan as you reach forward to grip his now limp cock, marveling at the way it still twitches in your hand. 

“Well, like I told you, now isn't the right time.” You grin mischievously at him. “So what do you say we finish our job so you can take me back to that bunker of yours and we can take all the time we want?”

Dean's bright green eyes light up like a kid at Christmas as he rushes to pull his pants back on. “Fuck yeah. I'm gonna make you like me yet, sweetheart.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

[weepingwillowwonder]

My daaaaaaarling Willow 🥹💕

I can’t remember if this is my first request because I send so many random thoughts to you IT’S HARD TO RECALL.

Please could I request ANYTHING Fizzarozzie x Reader :3c whatever your heart desires~ smut, not smut, random drabbles anything! 🩵

Heheheheh, why yes this is your first request and BOY do I have one for you Anything my heart desires you say? >///>

This is sorta kinda a drabble but uh also not? I apologize in advance for jumping around

Asmodeus x GN!Reader x Fizzarolli 

What happens when their partner is in heat?

[Yes this is explicit content, no Minors are not allowed 🔞]

CW: A bit of plot, Reader in heat, Dirty Talk, Sub/dom dynamics, Daddy dom (it's Ozzie, it's always Ozzie), Overstimulation, Fizz passes out, Penetration, Crying

~~

¤ As experienced as these two are, specifically Ozzie, would quickly pick up the fact that something was going on after you spent the day acting strangely. The longing touches, the need to be in the closest proximity, feeling overheated... At first you deny their comments, brushing it off as just ‘feeling odd’. But you only seemed to become needier…

¤ Early in the day, you find Asmodeus quietly spending time by himself, reading a newspaper with the latest happenings in the city. "Can I sit with you..?” you initially ask sweetly, while actively crawling into his lap. “...'m just gonna…squeeze in here." Not thinking much of it, he makes room for you and welcomes you happily, patiently rubbing your hip as you settle. “Comfy?” he chuckles softly, and all you can do is nod and give a small ‘mhm’ as you release a sigh and snuggle into the warmth of his chest. Somehow, you can feel the restlessness you felt slowly drifting away.

¤ When Fizzarolli comes home after being out all day, you don't hesitate to greet him at the door. Barely giving him time to fully come into the house, your arms come around to envelop him,  inhaling his scent as you bury your face into his neck. Your fingers tightly gripping his shirt, catches him by surprise. "Whoa babes, ya miss me or something?" He asks harmlessly poking fun at your eagerness to see him. And while you knew he was joking, you couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming comfort to be back in his presence. A soft sniff from you has him yanking away to look at you with his hands on his shoulders, “Wait hun, are you crying?” You only pull away to re-attach yourself to him. “Just missed you is all...” You miss the strange look he gives as he drags you along further into the house, hesitant to leave your side.

¤ A bit later on, you find yourself preventing your partners from doing laundry, claiming that the sheets were just in the wash not that long ago. You wrapped yourself in a burrito of blankets as Asmodeus started pulling up the fitted sheet. “Babydoll, I’m gonna need that blanket from you, it needs to go in the wash.” His eyebrows raise in amusement as he watches you tuck yourself in even more. “The blankets smell fine!” You announce after making a show of sniffing them. “You really don’t have to change them…” He crawls onto the bed and hovers over you, “Baby, I don’t know what you’re smelling, but these blankets? They got to go.” He grabs the corner of the blanket, but you only hold on tighter. When Asmodeus says your name, you hear the warning in his voice. “But Ozzie, it smells fineee!” You whine as your grip loosens. He gently unrolls you from the blanket, and you curl up, clinging to a nearby pillow instead. Asmodeus sighs, throwing the comforter on the floor. “You know I’m gonna need that too right?” You only continue your complaining, muffled by your face shoved into the pillow. When Fizzarolli comes in to take the sheets to the washer, he eyes you both on the bed suspiciously. “Are you guys having fun without me?” He fake gasps with a hand to his mouth. Asmodeus rolls his eyes and explains the situation, while coaxing the pillow from your grasp. Curiously, FIzzarolli lifts the blanket from the floor to his nose and immediately cringes as the musky scent hits his nose. “Erm...babe. Haaate to break it to you, but I’m gonna have to agree with Ozzie on this one. The sheets, they smell like…” He pauses trying to find a nice way to put it but both you and Asmodeus beat him to it. Asmodeus pries the pillow from your hands.  “You both…” you answer to yourself in a whisper at the same time Asmodeus says matter of factly, “Last night.” 

¤ Throughout the day, you recall needing to change clothes on multiple occasions due to being overly warm and sweating through just about everything you had put on. “Sweetheart, what happened to your outfit from earlier? I mean this is cute too, don’t get me wrong, but isn’t this like the fourth time you’ve changed today…?”  Asmoseus’ hands trail underneath your shirt and along your back. You insisted on laying on top of him as you cuddled, wanting to be as close to him as physically possible. Once again, Asmodeus, as patient as ever, sat still as you climbed your way on top of him and curled up against his chest. “...Was too hot. Got all sweaty.” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling into his shoulder. As he strokes the back of your head affectionately, he swears he hears the softest whimper from you in that moment. His hand pauses, “Sweetheart…have you been feeling alright today? Fizz mentioned you seemed kinda off earlier.” It takes you a second to answer, distracted by the growing foggy feeling in your head.”I dunno what he’s talking about. I told him I was fine, ‘ts just hot today and I was happy when he came home.” Asmodeus hums to himself, taking note of your slightly agitated tone. He decides not to ask about it further. 

¤ When it’s time for bed, you find yourself still feeling overheated, despite a cold shower only moments ago. It's almost like you hadn’t showered at all when you slip on only a thin t-shirt and a pair of underwear, feeling a thin layer of sweat creeping along your skin. “Babydoll, are you sure you’re feelin’ alright? You’ve been acting really strange today… ” Fizzoralli questions you with a worried expression as he sits up in bed. Your lips part as your breathing begins to get a little heavier, “H-huh?” you say as you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. He asks the question again more firmly, the concern now clearly evident in his voice, “I asked if you were okay? You don’t look so hot…” You nod, swaying slightly, but you catch yourself at the edge of the bed. “Think ‘m okay, ‘s just hot…” You respond, speech slurred together. “Whoa babe,” Fizzarolli jumps up in an attempt to catch you as you stumble unbalanced, but ends up kneeling next to you instead as you sit on the edge of the bed. “Oz?” He calls out to your shared partner as he reaches up to set a hand on your cheek. The contact has you whimpering and leaning into his hand. “F-fizzy…” Fizzarolli yells for your other partner again, this time louder.

¤ Asmodeus hurries into the room when he hears his name, eyebrows knit together in concern. “Froggy, what’s going on?” He sets a hand on Fizzarolli’s back and kneels to get a better look at you. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asks, taking in your appearance. At this point, your face is now buried in your hands, rubbing at your eyes as stray tears begin to fall. Fizzarolli shrugs in panic as the other wordlessly looks to him. “They’ve been acting weird all day, super clingy, talking about how warm it's been?” he shakes his head. “And just now, broke into a sweat and almost fell over right after a shower…” 

¤  Asmodeus calls out to you, making you raise your head with a sob, your hands flexing open and closed as you try to endure the overwhelming feelings. “Shh, you’re okay. Take a deep breath for me...” He offers. You try to focus on him by blinking away your tears and taking in shaky breaths. “Can you tell us how you feel right now? Tell us what’s going on?” He sets a hand on your knee and takes note of how your legs immediately spread for him. Fizzarolli, who also seems to notice, sets a gentle hand on the back of your neck in an attempt to comfort you. It’s hard to focus on anything with their hands on you and suddenly you start to feel dizzy again. “...’m not sure. Think I should lay down…” You whisper, leaning forward into Asmodeus’ chest. He moves forward to scoop you up in his arms and your body instinctively wraps around him, feeling more secure in his embrace. 

¤ When he lays you down in bed, you don’t let go of him, holding on tightly as he tries to pull away. He places a gentle hand on your lower back and you arch against his chest with a soft moan. ‘Strange.’ Asmodeus thinks to himself and he asks Fizzarolli to grab a cool washcloth. The other hurriedly does what he’s asked and then watches as the washcloth is draped over your forehead. Your eyes slip close as the cool wetness hits your face, sighing as it helps to slightly decrease your body temperature. Exhaustion begins to take over and you slip into unconsciousness, you briefly hear bits of the conversation of the other two. “..have to work…really important meeting…stay with them the entire time, Froggy…I’m afraid they might be going into…”

¤  When you wake up in the middle of the night, the seemingly sudden heat feels insufferable. You kick the blankets off of your body and tug off the sweat-soaked shirt you had on. Still groggy you reach down to take off your underwear as well to find them also wet, but not just with sweat. As you remove the item, you hiss as you feel each inch of the fabric peel away from the area between your legs, leaving you throbbing. A moan slips from your lips as your legs press together and your hand quickly reaches down to try to relieve the pressure , gasping in surprise at exactly how much you were leaking. Although you couldn’t see yourself in the dark, you felt every bit of the slickness of your arousal as you touched yourself. Quickly forgetting about your sleeping partner, your own fingers stroke earnestly now, reaching lower and lower to find your sensitive hole. You don’t even realize you’ve rolled over until you find yourself on your belly, trying to use your own slick to finger your hole. Your face falls further into the pillows as you attempt to use another hand to spread yourself open. Lost in the feeling of your current actions, you fail to feel the bed shift under you as your partner stirs. “Oh baby…” Fizzarolli says pitifully as he wakes up to seeing you desperately trying to stretch yourself open. Your hole clenches tightly around your fingers after hearing his voice and you start to beg openly for his assistance. “Fizzy, hah..! Please, need you so bad...h-hurts Froggy…”

¤ “Fuuuck baby, wish you woulda woke me up earlier…” Fizzarolli grunts out as his hips slam into yours from behind, dragging out another orgasm from you. “Thought you were gonna hurt yourself, bein’ so rough on your cute little hole. Oh shit, juuust like that...doin’ so good. So well for me…” You’re not sure if it’s because of how compliant you were for him or maybe how eagerly you begged him to take you, but Fizzarolli’s mouth was particularly filthy at the moment, each comment shooting straight to your core. “Oz t-thought you might wake up like this…fuckin’ needy and-Oh!” his head tosses back as you start fucking yourself back against him. “Mmm, you’re so tight for me sweetheart. Gonna milk me fuckin’ dry...” he grits out as he fights the urge to cum yet again. He suddenly pulls out, fist enclosed around himself at the base as he tries to calm himself down. 

 ¤ Fizzarolli remembers briefly what Asmodeus said before he had to leave; ‘if what I suspect is happening, is happening, you're either gonna have to fuck them to sleep, or hold off until I get home. Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself, Froggy?...’ At the time, he had giggled at the presented options. He felt more than positive he could wear you out after a couple of rounds, afterall, between the three of them, you normally were the one to tap out first. But. ‘..call me if you need me…’  In that moment, his earlier confidence had dwindled little by little as he listened to you sob out his name the second he pulled away from you. “I know baby, I know, just-...” He tries to even his breath and lowers his chest against your back to try to keep you settled. “Hold on for me…” Reaching for his phone on the nightstand, he makes the call. 

¤ “Hello?” a smooth voice answers from the phone lying next to you on speaker. Fizzarolli’s fingers tighten on your hip as he presses himself deeper into you, his own whimpers echoing through the phone speaker. “Oz…” He pants out under his breath, watching your hips slam back against his. “..Froggy?” the voice calls out again.  Fizzarolli chokes back a moan as a particularly hard thrust from you catches him off guard, falling into a seated position behind you. His cock slips right out of you, but you scramble backwards on shaky legs to sit right back down on it . “Shit babe..!” He cries out in surprise as you start riding him, giving him no time to rest. “You gotta slow down baby, you gotta-, please…!” Fizzarolli whines and grips onto your thighs Despite his cries you can’t seem to stop yourself from fucking yourself on his cock, head completely lost from desire and frustration. You barely seem to feel his nails digging into your skin or hear his voice as he whines for you to let up. You do, however, feel his cock throbbing inside of you and the heat of his cum filling you up. You moan as your fingers shakily reach down to feel the overflow of his cum spilling from your hole. “Fizzy…” You whine as you use his release to rub yourself. “..so sorry, ‘m sorry..!” You can’t help but continue to rock your hips on him, forcing him past the edge of overstimulation. 

¤ Fizzarolli isn’t a stranger to being overstimulated, as he’s experimented with the feeling before. Feeling helpless to the sensations being given to him as his body burns to be set free. He simultaneously tries to push you away and clings to you as you continue to ride him. He barely remembers his partner on the phone as his voice rings through the sound of your pleasure. “...I’m coming home right now. Hold on for me. .” As he’s hurled into another orgasm, he feels his consciousness slipping, barely able to release any noise as his eyes roll back in pleasure. You desperately hump into your hand as you realize the sound over the phone is your other partner. “Sweetheart…Honey, can you hear me?” You can hear him but you can hardly respond, frustrated as Fizzaroli lays limp underneath you. Once you realized he had passed out, you willed yourself to dismount from him and opted to use your own hands to pleasure yourself instead. Asmosdeus calls out again, this time he says your name demandingly. Well that catches your attention. “Daddy…” You bite your lip trying to keep in the sob that threatens to escape. He hears it in your voice that you’re trying to keep it together and responds to you evenly, “Hi baby, daddy’s right here. Where’s Fizzy, sweetheart?” The air seems to be squeezed from your lungs as you catch the way he speaks to you oh so softly over the phone. You don’t respond right away and at first he thinks the call has ended but you answer after a moment, “...he’s, sleepin’..” You hear him sigh, then shuffling around, “Honey, I want you to do something for me…” 

¤ ‘Find the biggest toy in the middle drawer and use that to work yourself open for me until I get home. Make sure to use plenty of lube, okay? Can you do that for me?’ You followed Asmodeus’ directions so well, he even told you so himself when he finally got home. He had barely dropped his stuff and immediately shed his clothes to bring himself close to you. The room smelled strongly of your arousal and you laid in bed with an unconscious Fizzarolli next to you, fucking yourself on the largest dildo they had in the room. He immediately came to your side, pulling the toy away from you and tossing it elsewhere. “I’m right here baby, I’m right here…” He rolls you onto your back and marvels at the way you spread yourself for him. “Daddy please..” Your weak voice calls to him. 

¤ Asmodeus sees the exhaustion in your eyes and leans forward to claim your lips in a sweet kiss, which you respond by opening your mouth submissively for him to claim you. He takes the lead, pressing his tongue into your mouth and against yours in the kiss, allowing you to messily moan against him. He deepens the kiss as his hands find the backs of your knees, pressing them to your chest as he leans over you. You can’t help the noises that escape you as he lines his cock up against your hole and slowly fills you up inch by inch. When he’s finally completely buried inside of you, he immediately starts moving at an even pace, holding you tightly as you begin pleading with him. “Honey,” he coos, hips unfaltering. “Have you ever been in heat before?” Your eyes roll back, and you weakly press against his chest, barely coherent, “H-hah! Yesss…one time!” His fingers grab your wrist to restrain you as he moves faster.  “Don’t run from me baby, daddy knows exactly what you need, let him give it to you.” He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and uses that hand to wrap around your throat, tilting your head up to look at him. “Poor froggy did such a good job wearing you down. Got you nice and tired for me…” His hand tightens slightly around your neck, pleased at the way you hold his gaze. “Now…I’m gonna fuck you straight to sleep, just like Fizz. How does that sound?” You can barely nod at his words. “Sounds good, right? Don’t worry, I’ve got you..”

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 1.0

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which the guilt of what he did weighs down on anakin, and you begin to realize that you may have rushed into things in regards to your program.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 6.3k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 4.2K FOLLOWERS

Anakin’s head was spinning and screaming at him to run as far as he could, but his legs felt numb and his body was burning up. “Get away,” he begged again, leaning against the wall for support as he tried to blink away the tears from his eyes. 

Liz tried to place her hand on his arm again. “Anakin-”

“Get the fuck away from me,” he yelled and stumbled his way back through the crowd. Sweat had formed on every part of his body as he tried to find his way to the exit. Everything around him looked blurry and every graze of another body against his own had his heart skipping a beat. 

What the fuck did he just do?

He was hyperventilating as a hand wrapped around his wrist, and he looked back to find Liz staring up at him. “Anakin, you need to sit down,”

“Don’t touch me,” he pushed her hand away. “You ruined everything. You-” He couldn’t finish the sentence as he felt the bile rush up his throat again. He barely made it to the nearest trash bin before he was emptying his stomach of all the drinks he had consumed. 

He had no idea if it was because of how quickly he had sobered up or from the drug itself, but Anakin felt like the definition of death as he moved past the crowd and finally located the door.

Liz was no longer following him as he stumbled his way down the unfamiliar street, his hand feeling around in his pocket for his phone as he did so. The fresh air was helping him breathe a bit better and he no longer felt like he was having a panic attack as he clicked on your contact. 

It was two in the morning, so when he was met with your voicemail, he wasn’t all that surprised. Still, to hear your actual sweet voice ask him to leave you a message, he broke down crying right there in the middle of the street. 

How could he mistake Liz’s voice for yours? Why couldn’t he feel the difference in the way she was touching him? Kissing him?

How could he do this to you? After everything you’ve done for him, he just did one of the most unforgivable things a guy can do in a relationship. 

He hung up before he could leave you a drunk message and was somehow able to make it back to the bus. When he stumbled onto it and headed right for the bathroom, he was disgusted with the sight of himself. 

His jacket was half off his shoulders, his white tee was stained in some places with red lipstick, and when he lifted it up he was met with more lipstick marks all over his abs and torso. 

Anakin threw his jacket onto the floor and stepped inside the shower, still fully clothed, and let the cold water cool down his overheating body. His shirt and jeans stuck to his skin, and the white material turned see-through from the water, making the lipstick marks on his abs visible through the fabric.  

He tore off the shirt and threw it into the corner of the small shower, planning on throwing it out completely afterwards. He braced his forearms against the tiled wall and tried to control his breathing before he had a panic attack. 

What had he done?

How did he let things get that bad?

Why did he let it go that far? 

Anakin felt sick again as he rubbed at the red marks scattered all over his chest. He scrubbed his skin until it was raw and sore, but even then he still felt disgusted with himself. 

Not only was he a total fucking prick to you over the phone, he fucking cheated on you a mere few hours later. 

That pill he had must have been the highest dosage since it went right through him. He was sure the drink and a half he had right after didn’t help either, and now he was turning off the shower and stumbling his way back through the bus and practically throwing himself out the door. 

He threw up the rest of what was in his stomach into a trashcan near the bus stop, and when he had nothing left in him, he slumped against the side of the bus and let the cold air create goosebumps on his wet skin. 

Water dripped from his hair and rolled down his body as he let out uneven breaths. Anakin slid down the bus and landed on the harsh gravel with a thud, and it probably would’ve hurt if he wasn’t running on fear and adrenaline right now. 

He knew he must’ve accidentally made a fair bit of noise with his loud entrance and exit from the bus, so he wasn’t entirely surprised to hear the sound of the door opening somewhere off to his left a few seconds later. 

He was still crying silently as he heard Vinny call out to him. “Anakin,” he said, surprise evident in his voice as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing out here, man? What’s going on?” 

Anakin didn’t say anything as he stared forward. It was still dark and he couldn’t make out any of his surroundings, and he wished he never took that fucking pill, because now he felt worse than he ever did before. 

“Anakin,” Vinny called again and walked over to the shaking brunet. When he saw the tears that were rolling down his face and the terrified look in his eyes, he dropped to his knees next to him. “What’s going on, huh? What’s wrong?” 

“She…she’ll never-” Anakin couldn’t finish the sentence as he shivered against the bus. Vinny’s eyes narrowed in concern as he pushed the damp hair away from Anakin’s forehead. 

“What are you talking about, Anakin?” He asked and got no response. Vinny tightly gripped his friend’s jaw and turned his face so he could look him in the eyes as he said, “Hey. What happened?” 

Anakin’s mouth was quivering and his whole body was shaking as he stared up at Vinny. “She’ll never forgive me,” he finally was able to get out. “She’s going to hate me- she already hates me.”

Vinny furrowed his brow, “Who? Y/n?” The name had Anakin squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Listen, man, whatever you did, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. And she definitely doesn’t hate you.”

Anakin gripped Vinny’s arm tightly. “I fucked up, Vin,” he repeated the very words you said to him when you needed him to reassure you all those hours ago. Like he was fucking supposed to. 

Vinny’s tired gaze softened. “What do you mean?” He asked, but Anakin just shook his head and let out a strangled sob as he crashed completely from the high. “Okay, okay, Anakin. It’s okay.”

He was sure Vinny could tell that he had taken something, and he knew his bandmate was undoubtedly disappointed, but he still provided him with comfort instead of judgment or anger. It only proved that Anakin was the biggest piece of shit in the world and never deserved you since he couldn’t even give you the comfort you needed without lashing out at you. 

“You’re alright,” Vinny mumbled, sitting next to him against the bus and wrapping his arm around Anakin’s cold shoulder, his t-shirt getting damp in the process. He had no idea how long they sat there for, but the love and respect Anakin had for the drummer grew with each passing second. 

Anakin always tried to surround himself with good people, like Vinny, Theo, and you. Why couldn’t he just push Liz away the second she started showing an interest in him? His relationship with you wouldn’t be falling apart had he opened his eyes and turned down her advances instead of allowing them just because he missed you. 

The thought of losing you after this had him pressing his hand against his heart, and he didn’t remember much after that. 

Vinny must’ve hauled him back inside the bus at some point since Anakin woke up in his bunk at nine thirty in the morning. If there was one thing those fucking drugs did, it was allow him to have more than one hour of sleep. He got at least five hours, and that was probably the most he’s gotten in a single night since he started the tour. Since he spent that last night at the hotel with you.

His head was pounding as he pushed himself out of bed and stumbled into the small hallway of the bus. He was still in the jeans he wore to the club last night, and Anakin quickly stripped himself of them and redressed himself in sweats and a black tee before heading towards the bathroom and grabbing the shirt he left in the shower. 

The bus hadn’t started moving yet, so Anakin opened the door and threw both his jeans and shirt into the trashcan by the bus stop. He let the door slam shut after that as he sat down at the small table and called you. It rang about five times before he got your voicemail, and he knew you were probably in class right now. He wanted to cry again when you asked him to leave you a message, but he had no right to cry any more than he did last night. 

“I’m so sorry, princess. I can’t even tell you how fucking awful I feel about the way I treated you,” he also didn’t really have the right to be leaving you a message right now, but he needed you to know that he wasn’t going to be acting like a prick to you, or to anyone, anymore. Not that it mattered. He had already fucked things up beyond repair. “Please, call me back. I love you so much. I always have and I always will. Please.”

He ended the call and threw his phone onto the table just as Vinny came wandering out from his room. “Hey,” he gave Anakin a cautious look as he opened the mini fridge and took out a water bottle. 

Anakin didn’t greet him back, he just leaned further against the chair and looked up at him. “When are we seeing Helena next?” He asked as Vinny raised a brow and placed the water bottle down on the table in front of him. 

“Uh, not until later today at the venue,” Vinny answered as he grabbed the small bottle of aspirin from the cupboard above the fridge. “What did you take last night, man? You were completely out of it when I found you outside.”

Anakin shook his head as Vinny set two pills next to the water bottle. “When are we getting to the venue?”

Vinny furrowed his brows as he sat down across from him. “Maybe by one,” he said, taking the cap off the water and sliding it closer. “What happened, Anakin?”

“I need to talk to Hel-”

“Anakin,” Vinny cut him off and his tone left no room for arguing. With a huff, Anakin took the pills and drank half the bottle of water before pushing it aside. “I’m serious, what did you take?”

Anakin avoided eye contact as he ran his finger along your handwriting on his wrist. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “It was my first time taking drugs.”

Vinny’s expression dropped as he rubbed his hands over his face. “Drugs, Anakin? You took drugs?” 

Anakin slumped further back in the chair as he shrugged. “I should’ve never gone to that club with her,” 

“With who?” Vinny narrowed his eyes. “Liz?”

Anakin cringed at the mention of her name. “I can’t believe I took drugs from her,”

Vinny rubbed at his eyes harshly as he tried to process the information. “You took drugs from Liz at a club?” He asked for confirmation, and when Anakin nodded, Vinny scoffed. “Dude, what the fuck? Are you crazy? Do you know how badly that could’ve ended?” 

“It already ended badly,” he muttered and stood up. “I really need to talk to Helena.”

Vinny grabbed Anakin’s wrist before he could get very far. “Wait,” he said and successfully got him to sit back down. “Are you okay? You were a mess when I was finally able to get your ass back inside the bus at nearly four in the morning.”

Guilt filled Anakin’s body as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Vin,”

“Don’t be sorry, man, just tell me what happened,” Vinny begged. “You said she’d never forgive you…were you talking about Y/n?”

Anakin’s eyes burned again. “I miss her,” he confessed and watched as Vinny’s gaze softened. “I miss her so much. I fucked up last night, Vinny. I….Liz…” He felt like he couldn’t say it, and he wasn’t sure if he was lucky or not that he didn’t need to when he saw realization take over his friend’s face.

“You didn’t,” he could hear the disbelief in Vinny’s voice as he broke eye contact again. “Anakin, you didn’t. You cheated on her? Did you hook up with Liz?”

“No,” Anakin’s face scrunched up in disgust as he thought back to how Liz had kissed all up his body before reaching his mouth. “She…I don’t know, she fucking kissed me.”

“And you let her?”

“I was high!” He weakly defended his drunk mind’s actions. “I took that fucking pill from her and then she gave me all these drinks and I was out of it after that. I didn’t even realize what was happening before she kissed me and then I became sober right after.”

Vinny opened his mouth, but promptly closed it so he didn’t yell. He had to take a few deep breaths before trying again, and Anakin didn’t blame him. “So Liz forced herself on you?” 

Anakin nodded and grabbed his phone again. “Yeah, and I should’ve never let her get that close in the first place,”

“No kidding,” Vinny muttered and ran his hand through his hair. “You need to talk to Helena.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Anakin mumbled as he looked at his wallpaper. His heart broke at the sight of your smiling face. How could he ever do this to you? You were his sweet girl, the one who’s been by his side through it all. He fucking hated himself. 

“Get to the venue early. Way before soundcheck,” Vinny said. “Tell Helena everything, and I mean everything, Anakin. How Liz has been trying to get with you since the first fucking day, how she invited you out to all these clubs, the drugs, last night, all of it. Alright?” 

Anakin just nodded, giving Vinny a guilty look when he reached over and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

He was sure he scared his poor manager half to death when he walked up to her as she was talking to one of the stage crew members. “You need to fire Liz,” he stated loudly, making her jump and turn to face him.

Helena let out a quiet laugh and placed her hand over her heart. “Anakin,” she greeted him before she processed his words. “What?”

“You need to fire Liz,” he said again, much slower this time. 

She furrowed her brows and looked around before taking his wrist in her hand and pulling him to a more private area of the stage. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?” She asked as she crossed her arms. 

“Liz, she…” he trailed off as he was hit with flashbacks of last night. “She does drugs.” Was all he was able to get out.

Helena raised a brow and let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah? From the redness in your own eyes, I think you do drugs, too,” she was obviously joking, but he was about to make the situation a lot more real with a single sentence. 

“It was just one time,” he weakly said and watched as her face fell. 

“Anakin,” she gasped and placed her hand on his forearm. “You’ve been doing drugs?”

“It was just one time!” He said again. “And it was a mistake. Please, Helena, you have to believe me on this, she’s not a good person.”

Helena’s eyes flickered all over his face, and he was sure she could see the desperation in his own. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Okay, what happened?”

“She….she gave me a pill last night and then practically forced alcohol down my throat then she..she pushed my shirt up and got onto her knees,” he tried to think back to every detail of the previous night, but he really didn’t want to. It physically pained him to try to remember the feeling of another woman’s lips all over him when it only should’ve ever been you. 

Helena’s eyes widen as she takes in his words. “She…what?”

“She started kissing me then told me to pretend that she was Y/n, and I thought she was. I swear, Helena, I thought she was Y/n, otherwise I would’ve never let her kiss me,” he said desperately and watched as his manager’s face twisted up in disgust. 

“She kissed you? Where? On your chest?” 

“And on my mouth,”

“What the fuck,” she said loudly and pulled away from him. “Why did you do drugs with her in the first place, Anakin? I literally just called you out on that shit a few days ago.”

“I know,” he rasped. “I know, and I’m sorry. Please, Helena, I feel terrible. My chest hurts so fucking bad, I can’t even look at myself. I hate myself. And Y/n’s going to hate me when she finds out I cheated.”

Helena sighed as she shook her head. “You didn’t cheat, Anakin,”

“Yes, I did. I-”

“No,” she cut him off in a stern voice. “You didn’t, alright? Liz is just a….a sneaky bitch who took advantage of you.”

Anakin’s shoulders dropped as he looked down at her. “Do you actually believe that? Do you believe me? After all the shit I’ve done? All the stunts I’ve pulled?” He asked in disbelief. “You believe me?”

Helena gave him an offended look. “Of course I believe you,” she scoffed, brushing her hair out of her face as she tried to compose herself. “We’re a team, Anakin. You, me, Vinny and Theo. I have your guys’ backs, alright? That’s what I’m being paid for.”

She tried to lighten the mood and Anakin actually cracked a small, barely-there smile.

Helena returned it with worried eyes as she placed both her hands on his biceps. “Are you okay?” 

He shook his head as he mumbled, “Y/n will never talk to me again,”

With a sigh, Helena pulls him into a hug. “She will. She has to, okay? You guys have been through too much together,” she tried to assure him, but it wasn’t really helping much. “You just need to tell her the truth.”

Anakin pulled away as he said, “You’re going to fire her, right?”

He was sure she was, but as a conflicted look spread across her face, he knew that was not the case. “She signed a contract, Anakin, and I signed it, too,” she informed him, making him take a few steps back in frustration. “She’s signed onto the tour for another two months, but after that she’s gone.”

“That’s not good enough,” he muttered. “Helena, please.”

She just broke eye contact and stared at the floor. 

Anakin stood up straight and squared his shoulders. “Then I’ll quit the tour,”

Helena looked up at him quickly. “You can’t,” she said. “You signed a contract, too.”

“Then I’ll break it,” he said and cut her off before she could say anything, “I don’t care how much I’ll have to pay, I’m not spending another second around her.”

“You won’t just be paying her, Anakin, you’ll be going to court,” she tried to make him see it from her perspective. “It’ll be broadcasted on every platform. Don’t let her do that. Don’t let her ruin your career.”

“She already ruined my relationship,” he said pathetically. “My career might as well be next.”

“Y/n will understand,” 

“No, she won’t,” he nearly started crying again. “I’ve been a complete fucking prick to her, for weeks. She’ll never understand, and I don’t blame her.” 

Helena wasn’t sure what to say to that since she, too, had been on the receiving end of Anakin’s fits that only started when he began hanging out with Liz. “I’m sorry,” she offered, but he just shook his head. “I swear, I’m going to talk to everyone I can to see if we can get rid of her way sooner. I’m so sorry, Anakin, if I had known she would do something like this, she would’ve never been an option-”

“It’s not your fault, Helena,” he cut her off. “This is all on me.”

She gave him another conflicted look. “I’m going to do everything I can, okay?” Anakin nodded and she smiled up at him, though it was clearly forced. “You just stay away from her. She’s obligated to take your picture while you’re on stage, but that’s it, okay? You just look pretty and I’ll take care of the rest.”

A few hours passed and Anakin still hadn’t been able to reach you. He knew you were still probably pissed at him, and you had every right to be. Still, he missed you more than ever right now, and he just needed to hear your voice. 

It was almost time to go onto stage, so he was trying to hype himself up backstage, but it was no use. 

Vinny had avoided eye contact with him for a bit before he pushed aside his distaste for what he had done and fell into the role of the supportive best friend he was the night before, something Anakin both understood and appreciated. “Just try to give them a good show, okay?” He suggested as he grabbed his drumsticks. “They deserve it.”

Anakin nodded then instantly made eye contact with the very person he would happily live without seeing ever again for the rest of his life. Liz walked backstage with her camera around her neck and subtle smirk painted on her lips, and Anakin felt sick again.

Vinny could see the sudden change and turned around as well before he realized who Anakin had seen. “Ignore her, okay? Don’t even look at her, just-”

“Hey, boys,” Liz interrupted as she moved to stand beside them. “Ready for another amazing show?”

Anakin’s head spun again as he pictured the way she pushed him up against the wall and pulled his shirt up, and he had to quickly look away as Vinny moved to stand in front of him.

“Yeah, we’re ready to be on that stage and far away from you,” he answered and watched as Liz pouted and tried to look around him and at Anakin. “Don’t talk to him, okay? Stay the fuck away from him, and away from all of us.”

She laughed, “What, you speak for him now?” She asked and looked past him again. “That was a fun night last night, huh, Anakin?”

“Liz-” Vinny tried again but Anakin just moved around him and towered over the brunette. 

“From now on, I won’t be talking to you,” he stated, feeling a lot less confident than he sounded. “You can take my picture and you can post it to your stupid fucking Instagram account, but that’s all you’ll be doing for us. Last night was a mistake, as was every single other night I wasted with you. Stay away from me.”

Liz’s smirk faded as a scowl took over her face. “Are you forgetting that I helped you have fun again, Anakin? You were miserable for weeks, and I was there for you-”

“Fuck off,” he said in a calm but somewhat eerie voice, effectively cutting her up. 

She scoffed, “Anakin-”

“Fuck off,” Vinny repeated before pulling Anakin away from her and onto the stage, where they were immediately greeted with a multitude of cheers, making Anakin briefly forget that he had made what he knew was the biggest mistake of his life when he took that fucking pill. 

-

“Great work, Mr Baker,” Kenneth said as he flipped through the sheets Evan had given him at the start of class. “While you kind of lost me at the end, it was a really entertaining piece overall. I think you described your event very well.” 

Evan smiled over at him before looking at you since you were the next one to receive feedback. You cowered in on yourself as you knew you rushed your piece and knew it was probably the worst thing you had ever handed in for marks in your entire life. 

“Miss Y/l/n,” Kenneth trailed off and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly. “I gotta say, this isn’t what I expected from you at this point of the program.”

Evan shifted beside you and you could feel his intense gaze as you leaned back in your chair. You cover your mouth with your hand as your face heated up at all the eyes that had begun looking at you.

“It felt rushed, you didn’t capture my attention right from the beginning like you did with your previous assignments,” he continued and you felt mortified as you opened your eyes again and saw all the surprised looks of your classmates, including Evan. “I expected more from you, Miss Y/l/n.” He finished and you wanted to cry as he moved onto another student. 

Evan nudged your arm as Kenneth began giving the girl in front of you her feedback. “What was that?” He asked but you just shook your head and crossed your arms. “Are you okay?”

Now you care? You wanted to ask but didn’t. 

Instead you just shrug and give him an obviously fake smile. “Never better,”

You were up and out of that classroom before anyone else as soon as Kenneth dismissed you, and you were halfway down the hall before Evan caught up with you. “Hey,” he called in a soft voice, grabbing your arm and making you turn to face him. “What was that in there? What happened to your piece?”

You shrugged again as you hug your notebook to your chest, “I rushed it,”

“Why?” He asked and didn’t bother hiding the surprise in his voice. “You’re usually the best writer in the class-”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked Kenneth why he was favoring me,” you cut him off and watched as shock took over his face.

“You what?”

You pull away from him in embarrassment. “I called him out for having a soft spot for me, like you told me he did,” you say. “Well, turns out he has a wife who is a musician and wanted me to feel as important as my boyfriend is to millions of people and wanted to make sure I know that I’m an equal in my relationship. He wasn’t favoring me at all, he had just lived through what I am currently.” 

Evan’s expression dropped as he ran a hand down his face. “Y/n-”

“It’s alright,” you cut him off. “I should’ve never opened my mouth in the first place.”

“I’m so sorry, I just thought…” he didn’t finish that sentence as he gave you a guilty look. “I’m so sorry.”

You just shake your head. “It’s not your fault,”

“No, it is. I made you think that he was going easy on you, but I misread that whole thing,” he stepped towards you. “I just…I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything as you stare down at the floor. 

After your call with Anakin, you cried for a long time before writing the worst piece of your life and printing it out before you could scrap it. You handed it in, knowing how bad it was since you couldn’t focus at all after you accused your instructor of treating you differently than the rest of the class.

You were still so embarrassed and were so close to getting on the next flight back to California and forgetting all about this program. You missed your apartment and Anakin more than words could describe, though you tried to in that awful excuse of a piece you submitted today. 

“Let me make it up to you,” Evan practically begged and you gave him a small smile while shaking your head. 

“There’s nothing to make up,” you wave him off. “You didn’t force me to talk to Kenneth, I did that on my own.”

“After I ignored you for the whole weekend and gave you false information,” he pointed out. “Let’s do something. Maybe get your mind off it?”

That sounded really good right now, but you wanted to be alone. You never wanted to show your face around this campus again, and you wanted to cry as you met Evan’s desperate eyes. 

You were about to ignore your own wants and agree, but your phone going off had you stepping away from him. “It’s Anakin,” you tell Evan, watching as he nodded. “I’ve been ignoring his calls since Monday. I should probably talk to him.”

It was true. Anakin had been calling you since early yesterday morning, with the first call coming in at two AM, that one you accidentally missed since you were sleeping off your embarrassment, but the other ones you have purposely ignored since you were still upset with him.

It was Wednesday afternoon now, and while you weren’t ready to talk to him yet, you knew you were just making things worse by not answering him.

“Sure,” Evan said and gave you a sad smile. “I’m really sorry again, Y/n. I really am.”

You wave him off again and turn around, bringing your phone up to your ear as you leave the building and step out onto the campus grounds. “Hi,” you mumble as you head in the direction of your dorm.

“Y/n,” he sounded breathless and you felt your brows furrow in concern. “Hi. I’m so happy you answered.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you trail off. “I was purposely ignoring you.”

He laughed and the sound had a smile forming on your lips despite your efforts of fighting it off. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “I’m such a bad boyfriend. I can’t believe how awful I’ve been to you, I’m so sorry about everything.”

His words were a bit surprising since you had gotten a bit used to his short temper and harshness over the last couple of weeks. While you knew Anakin was nowhere near being a bad guy, he had changed a lot since you’ve been away from him, and his responses and attitude have definitely shifted, and you had unfortunately been on the receiving end of most of his outbursts. 

Still, you were so in love with him, you just put up with it, something that had caused you to burn out rapidly and ultimately resulted in you going off on him during the last phone call. “Oh,” you say in surprise as you take your key out of your jacket’s pocket. “Um, it’s fine, Ani.”

It wasn’t, but you didn’t feel like arguing with him about it anymore. You were so worn out, you just wanted to quit everything and go back home. Your real home, not your dorm. 

Anakin seemed to know that it wasn’t fine, too, since he said, “No, it’s not. It’s not fine at all, baby, and I know it’s not. You know it’s not, so please don’t say that it is,”

You furrow your brows as you toss your keys onto your desk and drop your bag onto the floor once you enter your room. 

Something must have happened for him to have done a whole one eighty. You assumed Vinny or maybe even Helena snapped at him since he was acting completely different now than he had been for weeks before this. He was acting like he did way before, back when the tour just started, and your heart began beating a bit quicker at the thought of him going back to how he used to be before he let his stress take over. 

“It’s not fine,” you hesitantly agree, still afraid to set him off like you somehow did last time. “But I understand, Anakin, you’re stressed-”

“That’s not an excuse,” he cut you off and you promptly shut up since he was clearly in a mood to set things straight and attempt to make it right with you. “There are no excuses, and I love you for doing it, but I need you to stop trying to find them for me. I was so out of line, and I had no right to treat you like you were just there to help me write songs and inspire me as if that was all you are to me. You’re everything, Y/n, and I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t.”

You sit down on your bed and chew on your lip as you take in his words. Something pretty serious had to have happened for him to feel the need to remind you of all the things you already were sure of, and you were a bit nervous about what he could’ve possibly done to come to this conclusion. 

Maybe he pissed Vinny off one too many times. Or maybe he hadn’t been as sensitive with Theo as he should’ve been. Helena growing sick of his attitude was a possibility, too. 

“You’re everything to me, too, Ani,” you say and bring your knees up to your chest. “You know that. A few fights over the phone doesn’t change that.”

“I know,” he replied. “I know it doesn’t, baby, I just need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I love you more than anything else in the world.”

“I love you, too, Anakin,” you say back and lean against your pillow. “What brought this on? Did Vin get to you?”

There was a long pause and you were beginning to regret asking since whatever happened seemed to be still pretty fresh in his mind, but then he finally rasped, “I just miss you so much, princess,” 

You could tell he was holding back, but you refused to push him on it as he was in a very fragile state right now from what you could tell. You look around your empty dorm room before your gaze settles onto the calendar you hung on the wall above your desk. “Where are you playing this weekend? What location?” 

There was a brief pause and you assumed he was checking or asking one of the guys as you waited for his answer. “We’ll be in France by Friday. We have a few shows in Paris,”

He was so quiet with his responses, you felt your heart pull a bit at whatever it was that happened after your call. “Maybe I can meet you there?” You offer and really hoped he said yes since you wanted to get the fuck out of London after the last few days you’ve had. “I miss you, too, Ani, so much. I need to get away from this dorm and that fucking class before I embarrass myself even further.”

“What are you talking about? You said things were going great,”

“Yeah, they were before I acted like an idiot in front of my instructor then handed in the most pathetic excuse of an assignment in history,” you tried to lighten the mood, but you weren’t sure how effective your attempt was since it had him letting out a sigh.

“I’m really sorry, baby,” he apologized again. “I should’ve listened to you when you called me crying a few days ago. It broke my heart to hear you so upset and know there was nothing I could do to help.”

You shake your head, knowing he can’t see you. “I just needed you, Ani,” you say quietly. “Like I always will.”

“I’ll always need you, too, princess. Always,” he said back, making you smile as you looked away from the calendar that had all your class times on it. “I’ll buy the plane ticket, or train ticket, or whatever it is you’ll use to meet me in Paris. I can’t wait to see you, pretty girl. I miss you so fucking much.”

You wear a dumb grin as you lay back on your bed and stare up at the ceiling. “I can’t wait to see you, Ani,”

He went quiet again for a few seconds before asking, “Did you decide on whether or not you’re dropping out?”

“Oh, you caught that, huh?” You teased, surprised he was actually paying attention to what you were saying when you yelled at him the other night. You think it over for a bit before asking a question of your own, “Would you be disappointed if I did drop out?”

“Of course not,” came his immediate reply and you felt your shoulders drop in relief. “You were so excited about this program, but if it’s not what you expected or if you’re not happy with it then do what does make you happy. There are other courses you can try, too, and if you decide you want to do something completely different then I’ll be your biggest supporter for that, too.”

You blushed a bit and secretly loved that he was still able to make you do that even though he wasn’t even with you. Knowing he had your back no matter what you end up deciding to do made you feel better than you had in weeks, and you realized just how much you missed talking to him like this. “This was a good call, Ani,” you observe instead of continuing the conversation of your possible decision to drop out.

“It was,” he agreed then quickly added, “And I promise there won’t be any more bad ones if I can help it. I love you so much, Y/n, forever.”

Your whole body released butterflies as you returned his promise, “I love you, too, Anakin. Forever,”

[leviathanleva]

Cujo

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader

Description: A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

[4.4k words]

[Angst, Blood and Injury, Graphic Depiction of Gore]

Chapter 3 "Liquorish"

Heartbeat heavy in your chest, you race up the supposedly abandoned building, finding enemy after enemy.

It was supposed to be a routine inspection, an easy mission, in and out in less than a week. Now everything is turned upside down and being unable to contact or smell Ghost anywhere near has your senses flaring up with the unfamiliar feeling of stress and determination.

Bloodlust hazes your vision, everything has a ruddy tint to it, be it from splattered entrails or rage, it’s beyond your understanding. The memories still linger, the last sentence you heard over the coms before everything went to static:

“Hound! Do not engage! The roof is – ”

You were supposed to be his shield, it’s your job to be ambushed and take damage, you can regenerate, he can’t. But Ghost let either his man pride or his protective instinct overwhelm him, the anxiety still lingered in his gut no matter how many times you came back to him half dead and you were good as new minutes later. He wasn’t thinking clearly when he pushed you behind him and ordered you to watch his back as you advanced through the abandoned building suspected of drug trafficking activity.

He moved ahead without you, for once he wanted to be your protector. Now you can’t sense hair or trail from him and you’re becoming increasingly frustrated.

Easy mission your ass. This was a charade for something bigger.

The mask around your mouth whirls in overdrive, siphoning as much oxygen as possible while you vigorously work your way to the dreaded roof. Straining both muscle and limb in unison, you climb floor after floor, pushing your limitations as vapor froths off your skin and trails behind you like a haunting mirage. Your body is boiling on the inside, having exerted too much energy in too short a time and your muzzle can only do so much to keep you going before you collapse from overheating.

To hell with pushing your bounds when the Lieutenant might be in danger.

Another enemy, seemingly waiting for you, they all have been, a crumb trail of beating hearts the closer you get to your destination. You dive for him as bullets dig into your shoulder, he’s sliding towards the grimy floor and clutching his shredded throat a moment later. You don’t have time for a measly nobody, he chose the wrong side, he suffers the consequences.

The concrete debris crinkles under your boots, crushed to fine dust under the pressure you’ve put on your feet. Clutching and shouldering corners, you bounce yourself off them to retain speed in the claustrophobic corridors. Jump over handfuls of stairs where more hostiles await, you hear them before you see them, distinguishing their heavy breathing over your muffled pants.

Blood painting the walls like an abstract piece of art, death is left in your wake as you rush up another floor. The screams have alerted more people, and so have the gunshots and you bristle at the amount of footsteps echoing in the shells of your ears.

What is going on? Why are there so many of them? Where the hell is the Lieutenant? How did they jam your coms?

The questions are pushed aside as you appear in the shadows of a bare apartment, blending into the darkness and only your irises visible. A menacing sight to anyone, a monster, it’s what you’ve become as you slowly drown in your brutish ways the longer you’re detached from your beloved master.

A hoarse growl escapes you, you’re nearly moving on all fours, prowling low to the floor as you tackle the first enemy target. Flashlights are thrown astray, nearly blinding you as the chaos ensues. You crush bone like it’s toothpicks, rip at flesh like paper, the whirring in your mask overwhelms the gurgling cries for help and call for reinforcements. Bloodlust can be dangerous in the hands of one who is inexperienced such as yourself and you keep walking deeper down that path as no sign of your teammate shines to stifle you back to normalcy.

Strands of hair stick to your face like glue, matted down and drenched in sweat, your gear feels heavy and damp, it’s a sauna beneath your loose, coarse blouse. Your socks are slippery against the inside of your boots and you have half a mind to kick them off and continue barefoot. Juggernaut as you are, your breaking point is nearly reached and you feel the stinging pain creeping up your spine. The idea of rest is forced away, you can’t afford it when you’re so close, you’ve come too far to shut down now to cool off, not when Ghost is unresponsive.

The amount of cocking weapons should be concerning as you near the door to the roof, bloodshot eyes opened wide and pupils dilated as the scent of familiarity finally reaches your nostrils, too intoxicating for your mind to register the plethora of other bodily odors.

You nearly break through the door in your neglectful hurry, gaze harsh and piercing, slicing through the multitude of hostile soldiers only with your oppressive presence. Hunched over, with tense shoulders and pulsing hands that are itching to rip into the men before you, you skim over the roof with vigor, letting your nose guide your vision to a familiar figure standing at the edge of the roof.

“Lieutenant!” Your first instinct is to rasp out, crystalline orbs trained on his battered form strung up by a crane like a piece of meat. A guttural snarl reverberates deep in your throat as you turn to the crowd of armed enemies with malice, ready to shred them to a pulp and eat a bucket of bullets in the process if only to get to your precious squad mate.

Ghost sways above a crater, his secured feet dangling above a deadly drop. You can smell the blood slowly oozing down his knuckles, staining his gloves, and hear his steady heart as he swims in unconsciousness. You nearly whine at the sight, reeling your head towards him with the need to call out again and maybe have him wake up.

No such simple luxury is provided for you, instead you’re faced off with a handful of brutes who believe their chances of survival are higher than zero.

You take a step forward. The weapons train on you.

You’ll rip them apart –

“ – Tut, tut!”

You falter at the voice and watch the nearly unhinged door behind you close to reveal none other than your target – suited and unbothered by your feral breathing and unceremonial entrance. The man you’ve been hunting for an age too long now to admit, a slippery bastard that felt someone breathing down his neck only when you were sent after his trail. Philip Graves stands to your right, the traitor, the absolute menace of a man that has the audacity to flick a smile at you as if you’d just joined his most prestigious party.

“Well, it’s nice to finally see Shepherd’s little experiment in the flesh.” He croons and looks you over in marvel. A bitter frown adorns your features as you abandon your prowling stance and straighten your back, adopting a more human-like pose. “Quite the achievement.” He notices your attention turn completely to him and scoffs before unfurling his fingers to show off a remote of sorts. “Don’t give me that look.”

“And that is…?” You question, words slurred by the confines of your muzzle as your eyes dart from his face to the remote, then you realize and your glare sharpens.

“The remote to the crane of course. I wouldn’t risk being in your proximity if I didn’t have a guarantee of your obedience. I’m confident, not a fool.” You’d snort at his cocky words in a different setting. He gestures at you with his free hand, flicking his fingers casually as if ushering a child. “Now if you really cherish your Lieutenant – remove your mask.”

For a brief moment, you’re left confused, blink at him twice before tilting your chin to one side and crossing your arms, eyes straying from him as you plunge into thought. The audacity was not what bewildered you, but his utter belief in having wrangled you pliant. To think he was willing to so absolutely rely on the dry, shallow information he’d dug up was preposterous. It was also wrong, your instructions were clear and no blackmail or threat was going to weaken your resolve.

You were trained to hunt, complete your assignment at any cost, be put in lethal danger, and come out victorious. Your squad mates were weak to no fault of their own, but their lifeline was something you would risk for the greater good.

This was your duty.

“No.” You answer simply and take a step forward. Whatever justice-fueled speech was circling in your head is silenced by an unfamiliar trepidation in your chest as you see Graves’ thumb glide over the release button on the remote. You swallow something thick in your throat and huff out a breath before straightening your shoulders. “Return the Lieutenant to me and I will leave you to run. I will not pursue you. You have my word.”

What was this…? What the hell were you saying?

He laughs at your words, apparently the contradiction of them to your monotone voice is entertaining. Your jaw clenches at his nonchalant demeanor used to disguise the nervous sheet of sweat forming thickly on the back of his neck. You can smell it even with the abundance of testosterone burning your nostrils.

“You see, I would…but then again, I don’t trust you.”

“I do not lie.” You state with a deadpan look.

“You don’t disobey orders either.” Graves retorts and gives you a challenging expression, pursing his lips to one side and deeming you too untrustworthy for a dealing of a peace delegation. “Mask off. Now.” He snaps when you don’t budge and twirls the remote in his hand before pointing it daringly at Ghost. A moment of nothing passes and instead of the tension you’d hoped to rise within him, he grins and rests a hand on his hip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh? Is this right? You truly don’t care for your teammate?”

“No.” Comes your immediate answer, smooth and soft and lacking an ounce of care for the potential danger it might send your Lieutenant in. You glance at his limp, hanging body with disinterest and blame your palpitating heart to the long and strenuous journey to the roof rather than something else. It couldn’t be anything else, you felt nothing but the aftermath of physical exertion. “Whether he lives or dies, it’s all the same to me.” You’re being truthful yet every single word wrestles with you fervently before being forced past your teeth. Strange and bothersome, but you pay it no mind. “If I return with your head my task is complete. Your death is my mission, casualties are inevitable.”

He doesn’t buy it.

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Graves sneers something vile and again points the remote at the crane, toying with you and relishing in it.

Your mask hisses loudly and is tossed on the concrete floor of the roof before you can realize what you’re doing. The lower part of your face – wet from the vapor of your breaths, soiled with a snarl. You don’t dare let the bastard out of sight now that the power dynamic has shifted in his favor.

“There you go. Good girl.” He coos at the sight of your unreluctant obedience and his smug features soften in near adoration. “Seems you still have a heart after all.”

Not fond of his degrading babying, you try to steer the conversation to another, much more vital topic that has been gnawing at your gut since the revealing of his presence.

“Why are you here? What business do you have with me?”

Graves, much to your surprise, obliges your question.

“A little birdie told me I’m being hunted by a whole new predator. A…special one this time.” He begins and motions for his men to make their way to his side, steering them to a safe distance from your vicious paws in case you snap despite the low odds. He reciprocates the eye contact, almost unblinking, not wanting to miss a beat from your uncanny demeanor. “That birdie also told me you have a habit of following orders only from your Lieutenant and I thought maybe…if I manage to string up the worm, I’ll get the fish.” His arms spread wide, his chest expands and you’re almost tempted to lunge forward. “And voila.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.” You cock your head at him and let your arms unfold and fall to your sides.

The corners of his mouth twitch at your disinterest.

“I wanted to see you in the flesh, Hound.” He answers then, changing from his grandiose façade to a genuine and less irritable one. Gesturing towards you, he continues. “Check if the rumors are true. And judging by the fact you even got to the roof – they certainly are.” His hands clasped together over his pelvis, the remote shining still between his fingers, yellow and menacing in contrast to his black cotton gloves. “Quite disgusting what they did to you. Wouldn’t you say?” The nearly heartfelt sympathy in his tone does little to sway your intentions and it shows clearly on your unmoving features. Yet he keeps going, keeps feeding you with conflicting thoughts that fail to take root in your mind. “Countless months of agony just to become a pawn.”

Despite the unpleasant memories flooding your head at his take, you hum and brush them aside without much effort.

“I consented to my augmentations.”

“That you did.” He nods and juts his jaw before flicking the blonde locks away from his eyes and slicking them back. “ For the chance of serving a greater purpose, not being someone’s lapdog and wasting your potential on lowly criminals.” Scorn drips heavily from his tongue, a hidden distaste for his own misfortunes showing, misfortunes much similar to yours. “But I won’t sway you yet. I can’t when your attention is so torn between me and your Lieutenant.”

Maybe his sympathy is sincere, you think. Maybe there’s an ounce of truth in his law-breaking, scummy ways and he sees you as much of a victim as he sees himself. It would make sense why he orchestrated this whole situation instead of simply trying to kill you and rid himself of you.

A part of you believes him, you can tell that bits and pieces of what he says come from a wronged man trying to take revenge for his pain. But you’re no simple soldier, you were built to withstand manipulation, torture, worse. You admit to his twisted honesty but have no intent in following after him and abandoning everything you’ve worked to build no matter how unimportant or unimpressive it was.

“You’re misinterpreting.”

The distinct beat of helicopter wings catches your attention far before the vehicle itself appears in the distance. Graves and his men’s ride, you presume, a quick escape after he got bored of your lack of subordination and bid you farewell.

“Am I?” He doesn’t dare to glance back, instead lets his ears assure him that his escape route is secured and is hastily approaching his location. “So far you’ve completed your tasks well.” A gloved thumb rubs over his freshly shaven jaw, before nudging his bottom lip up in contemplation as he sizes you up and down with a calculative look. “I have one last objective for you, though, just to test your limits. Figure out what I’m up against, you know?”

“I don’t take orders from you.” You hiss, expressing something more than monotony for the first time during your conversation.

His words had struck a nerve somewhere, surprisingly so, yet he took the opportunity regardless.

“This one you’ll have to.” He all but sighs, bored with your resistance and crackling unbothered demeanor. There’s too much peaking beneath it and he wants to sink his teeth into it, yet you continue to deny him. Whether from a lack of understanding over your emotions or a very bad attempt at hiding them, they were visibly showing through and he couldn’t get enough of it. “Tell me, do you think if you jump from this building you can survive?”

“Without my mask, it’s highly unlikely.”

A gust of wind sweeps by you and suddenly you’re painfully aware how it sways the rope Ghost hangs from, still and silent. Sweat forms on your brow, your hands curl into fists, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your palms and nearly drawing blood.

“Interesting.” He hums at your answer, nodding at the new information bestowed upon him – a weakness, a flaw in your design that your makers hadn’t been able to work out. This gave him a useful advantage against you. “So without a steady supply of oxygen, you’re rendered useless.”

“I can still rip you in half.” You declare and lean forward, arms dangling and ready to clutch at the floor and propel you forward. Your patience runs thin and Graves tastes it on his tongue, not much longer before you snap and dash either for him or the Lieutenant.

“Oh, I don’t doubt.” He laughs in your face like your threat means nothing and gestures for his men to board the helicopter before hopping on himself. He grips onto the side of the door and smiles bitterly at you. “Well, it’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance finally after such a long game of cat and mouse. I’m afraid we must be going now though.”

“Do you like hearing yourself talk?” A bark reverberates somewhere deep in your throat, akin to a growl as you lunge towards the helicopter.

No more talking, you’ve given him enough grace. Should have ended everything minutes before, forced yourself to move out of the stupor your Lieutenant’s state had pinned you in.

He doesn’t matter, nothing matters but Graves’ head, and like a scared mutt, you’d let him grow confident in his false influence over you.

“You know, you’re right. I’ve talked enough.” Venom oozes from his smirk as he spits one last taunt your way. “Fetch!”

You fail to realize why he’s so self-assured when you’re still capable of reaching him before the helicopter has lifted off. The slimy smirk doesn’t leave his face as he presses the button and turns away from you with a distinct “Ta!”. It’s sickening. Ghost matters not, your orders are clear and you’re sure the Lieutenant would understand the sacrifice you had to make were he in your stead. It’s a worthy sacrifice, he’d be honored after his demise, renowned for leading you to the den of the enemy for you to demolish and rid the world of their stain of an existence.

“You’re a fool if you think – ”

Your voice hitches as your body involuntarily turns away from Graves.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING –

You dash across the rooftop and leap over the edge without a drop of hesitancy. A coil nestles in your stomach, not from the sight before you – a height so devastating, the street below so far that the cars look like mere pebbles, but at the thought of abandoning your prospect, disobeying a command, revolting against your upper command.

Too late to turn back now. And even if you could, would you?

No…

You adjust your limbs against the merciless wind, propel your arms forward like a diver about to hit the water's surface, your entire being flattened to endure as much resistance as possible and cut through the air. The cold whips against your eyes, blurs your vision with tears which you rapidly blink away to not lose sight of Ghost’s descending body.

Was it only the cold? Why were the tears so salty then?

Why was your face stuck in a desperate grimace of horror and hope?

Halfway across the building, you manage to snatch the rope around your Lieutenant’s waist. Your victory is shortlived as the earth beneath approaches steadfast and you bite into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and keep your head as cool as possible.

What now?

Even if he’s safely in your arms, you’re still heading for an inevitable death and thinking time is limited. You wrack your brain into turbo mode to come up with something, anything to save him, prevent his fall. The solution comes to you and it’s not all too pleasant, but without an alternative, you relent.

You thrust your arm through the glassy wall of the building, letting the shards shred through your skin, unable to exert your full potential without your mask. You try to regardless and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself, you can’t breathe in enough air, the oxygen is not nearly the amount you need and you’re left suffocating slowly. Your hand mauls through cement floors and polished windows that shatter under the pressure as you desperately grapple for something, trying to slow your momentum.

Heart hammering in your throat, eyes wide with plea for something to work, for a miracle to happen, but it doesn’t. No fairytales allowed for the sinful and decrepit, for those who’ve abandoned their humanity for the betterment of civilization.

Pain doesn’t register on your features as your arm continues to endure in vain, shredded, sliced, battered to a pulp. But the horror registers when it shatters, the bone and flesh unable to withstand such detrimental amounts of damage, it’s rendered useless. It’s not the physical agony that terrifies you, but the only means of you saving the Lieutenant – now completely obliterated.

What now?

You think while your gaze darts from the bloodied, mangled mess that is your now worthless limb to the hastily approaching pavement below.

DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! –

“Bloody f – ”

The once-lidded chocolate orbs you’ve grown to cherish look up at you – spastic, disoriented, glued to you as if you could explain your current predicament. You drown in them for a moment, pained, mournful that you’ve failed to fulfill both your duties.

Not a good hound. Fucking useless.

The prey got away, your keeper is soon to be a splatter of intestines on the ground below.

Good for nothing you are. Failed at everything. Can’t even save your own Lieutenant.

“Hound! Fucking hell, we – ”

Your jaw tightens, and your skin crawls once you’re close enough to discern the peculiar cracks in the sidewalk, you’re that close now. Doom, there’s nothing left but to die.

No. You refuse. If not for yourself, then for Ghost. You can’t lose him. You’ll sacrifice everything for him.

In a last attempt at being a hero, you struggle in the air, against the howling wind that screams bloody murder in your ears. You fiddle spasmodically, manage to clumsily maneuver both of you, deaf to the breathless curses slipping past his mask. You thrust him sideways, fling him into a window hard enough to make it give in under his weight. He breaks through back first, you hear him choke as he hits and skids on the carpeted floor with a deft thud.

You nearly smile, a contrast at his horrified expression as he realizes the situation – your maskless face, your bloodied limb, it’s only for a split second before you’re back to hurtling down without him. You hear a scream of your name, the intimate one, the real one.

Your eyes water anew, maybe from the air, maybe from him calling out to you in what sounds like spastic worry.

One good hand was all you needed.

You’re free now. You fulfilled your duty.

Everything hurts, you feel your entire being imprinted into the roof of a car, having squished it in the impact. Blood coats your tongue, your throat feels crushed. You’re choking for air quietly, your body desperately trying to repair all damages but failing because your mouth and nose can’t gulp enough oxygen no matter how greedily you’re breathing.

Sprawled out, the sky swirls high above your head, gazed at through blurry vision. Stars twinkle like smudged jewels, the moon is nowhere to be seen and for a moment you feel alone and at peace. It doesn’t matter that you’re molded into a random car with shattered bones and punctured lungs.

Maybe there are witnesses, maybe the streets are empty, you’re unsure, the screaming in your ears is punching at your eardrums and you can’t make out anything.

A peaceful death after years of war is what you wish for.

The cold creeps over your skin, through your gear, its caress soothing against your steaming flesh.

A splotch of creamy whine enters your vision, poking from one of the shattered windows. A skull mask, you recognize it even with both eyes and mind hazy and drunk on scalding pain. You’d reach out if you could, your first instinct demands you to do so, reach out to Ghost, reunite as leal hound and loving master once more. But you can’t, your body refuses to budge, a twitch of your fingers is all you can muster.

A cough rips through you, excruciating, and more stomach-churning iron rushes over your sticky tongue.

Will he remember you? Will he mourn you if you pass? Will he miss you? Will your absence leave yet another scar for him to nurture? Will he ever forgive you for sacrificing yourself for him?

Does it matter?

Not really…

But it does.

Somewhere deep within the crooks and crevices of your heart, it does matter to you, if only a little.

Your eyelids are heavy and you’ve not the strength to keep them open anymore. The chill air is so welcoming, lulls you and tugs you towards the comforts of slumber.

You hear a rasp, his voice echoing, deep and baritone as he disappears somewhere in the darkness.

You can’t stay conscious anymore no matter how desperately he begs you. You’re tired, just want to sleep, you’re aching, you want out of the pain, out of responsibilities and bloodshed.

This feels nice. Oblivion is welcoming.

The cold dissipates, and everything goes dark. You take one last meager breath and succumb to blackened dreams and fleeting pictures, sprawled vastly on the surface of your mind as your body gives out completely.

<<< Chapter 2

Chapter 4 >>>

Masterlist

[genshinluvr]

Double Whammy

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You wake up one day feeling unwell. You discover you have started your period, and not only are you menstruating, but you also have a fever. You're sick, you're menstruating, and you have awful cramps. It's a double whammy you didn't think you would have to deal with in the men's universe, but alas, Lady Luck is not on your side.

Note: This is for my AFAB people who get sick when their periods start! I'm not that person, but I know a few people who get really sick when they're on their periods, and it's awful. So, this is the fic for my girlies and female-bodied people who have to deal with something as awful as getting sick while menstruating. This week is my vacation, and therefore this week and next week, I will be posting mini-fics instead of the typical lengthy fics.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and vomiting

Word Count: 8.4k

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the temperature of your body. You’re burning up, and you’re sweating. Not only are you burning up, but you have this massive headache, and you feel like you got hit by a train at full speed. You groan, tossing around in bed, kicking the blanket off your body. Nanook, who was sleeping beside you, stirs and cracks his eyes open, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“Little one? Are you alright?” Nanook asks, turning on his side to look at you.

You didn’t reply. Only you roll off the bed and to the ground, groaning in pain. You’re not sure if you’re groaning because of the pain from falling to the ground or if it’s because of this familiar cramp in your lower abdomen. Nanook is immediately at your side, helping you stand up. You clutch onto your lower abdomen, groaning softly.

You go limp in Nanook’s arms, closing your eyes and leaning against his body. Nanook nearly flinches when your bare skin touches his. Nanook helps you lay on your bed and presses his hand against your forehead, frowning.

“Nanook,” you whimper, tugging on his shirt. “Everything hurts.”

Nanook runs his hands through his hair. “You’re burning up, Starlight. Are you feeling unwell?” Nanook murmurs.

You groan and sniffle, covering your eyes with your arm. Nanook jogs to the bathroom to turn on the faucet and soak the small face towel in cold water. Your lower abdomen feels like they’re being squeezed and twisted into knots. You don’t feel too good. You felt fine the day before, and you’re sure you didn’t do anything to get yourself sick. So, why are you feeling this way out of nowhere?

Nanook returns to the room with a damp towel in his hands. He brushes the strands of hair away from your face and places the damp cloth over your burning forehead. You sigh in relief, your body visibly relaxing. Nanook looks around your room, his eyes landing on the small fan in the corner. Nanook leaves your side to turn on the fan, hoping it’ll make the room cool enough to prevent you from overheating.

The small fan chimes and begins to slowly rotate, blowing cool air into your room. Your throat feels strange when you swallow your saliva. It feels dry, scratchy, and almost swollen. You force yourself to sit up and stare at the Aeon, who turns around to see you sitting. The Aeon stares at you with worry while you stare off into space, your eyes glazed over.

You shudder, feeling something gush out from you and onto your underwear. Your eyes widen, and you rush to the bathroom, the damp face towel plopping on the ground. Poor Nanook stands there, feeling lost and unsure of what to do. Nanook walks to where the towel fell and picks the towel off the floor. A faint color on the bed catches his attention. 

You’re sitting on the toilet, staring at your bloodstained underwear with an exasperated sigh. For some reason, it didn’t occur to you that you can have periods in another universe. You tear the toilet paper into a temporary pad, place it over the blood stain, and flush the toilet. 

You pull your pants up and walk out of the bathroom (technically, you waddled out of the bathroom) and see Nanook standing next to the bed, looking at something. You stand beside Nanook and look down to see the white bedsheets stained with blood. You groan internally and cover your face with your hands.

You cursed, rubbing your temples. "Great, now I have another thing to worry about," you grumble.

"You should rest. I'll handle it," Nanook murmurs, stripping the mattress of the bedsheets. 

You grab Nanook's hands and shake your head. "No, it's alright. I'll handle it since I made the mess," you sigh. 

Nanook reluctantly hands the bedsheets to you. You walk out of the room and toss your bedsheets into the washer before searching for extra bedsheets. After a few minutes of searching for a spare bedsheet, you finally find light blue bedsheets that you can temporarily use. You return to your room to see Nanook emerge from the bathroom with another damp towel in his hands.

You didn't question Nanook and continued to put the new sheets on your bed and reorganize the blanket and pillows with the help of Nanook. You collapse onto your bed and close your eyes. Nanook places the cold towel over your burning forehead and presses a kiss on the side of your head.

"Nanook," You whisper, cracking your eyes open to look at Nanook, whose towering over you. Nanook hums, burying his face into your neck, rubbing your bicep with his thumb. "Can you maybe stop by March's room or Himeko's room and ask them if they have pads or tampons by any chance? I don't want to bleed out on the sheets again."

Nanook pauses and slowly gets off your bed. Nanook certainly did not want to leave your room and stop by March's and Himeko's bedroom to ask for pads and tampons, but because he sees the pain on your face, Nanook complies. Nanook slides your door open and walks a few doors down the hallway, lightly tapping on the door. Nanook hears faint grumbling and footsteps approaching the door. The door slides open to reveal March with a bedhead. Oh, right. Nanook forgot it was in the middle of the night.

March glares at Nanook, rubbing her eyes. "What do you need, Nanook?" March grumbles.

Nanook clears his throat. "Do you have any spare pads or tampons for [Y/N] to use? Their menstrual cycle has begun," says Nanook. 

March's eyes widen, and she nods. She rushes off before returning with two boxes of pads and tampons in her hands. One box contains pads, and the other box contains tampons. She hands the boxes to Nanook. Nanook sighs in relief and gives March a grateful smile before rushing back to your (and his shared) bedroom. Nanook enters the room and sees that you have already passed out asleep on the bed. Nanook chuckles, placing the boxes of pads and tampons on the nightstand and walking over to the bed.

Nanook nudges you. "Starlight, wake up," Nanook whispers.

You groan softly and open your eyes. Nanook smiles and caresses your face. "Why aren't you sleeping, Nana?" you mumble, reaching up and wrapping your burning arms around his neck.

"I returned with the pads and tampons from your pink-haired friend," Nanook says, kissing your burning cheek. 

You grumble, take the cold towel off your forehead, and hand it to Nanook. You roll off your bed, walk to your dresser, pull out clean shorts and underwear, and grab the boxes before retreating to the bathroom. You made sure to wipe and wash the blood off the lower half of your body. And by the lower half of your body, you mean your butt and the inside of your thighs.

After washing yourself and sticking the pads on your clean underwear, you pull your underwear and pants up, sighing in relief. At least you're protected for the next few hours until you wake up. You feel like you got hit by a train. You flush the toilet and toss your bloodstained shorts and underwear into the laundry basket before leaving the bathroom.

You collapse on the bed beside Nanook and close your eyes. Nanook places the semi-damp cloth over your forehead. You sigh in relief. As much as you want to snuggle up against Nanook under the blankets, you can't get yourself to do it. You're really hot, and even if the fan is running and blowing cool air around the room, your body can't handle any more heat. 

"Night, Nanook," you whisper.

You're not sure what happened first. You weren't sure if your period started first, which led to you getting a fever, or if it was the other way around. Either way, waking up in the middle of the night with a fever and staining your bed with blood was something you wish you didn't wake up to, but alas, fate was not on your side this time.

Hours later, you're shaken awake. The voices around you are muffled as you try to move your arm, but they feel heavy, like lead. You turn your head to the side and cough, groaning when pain shoots up your throat. You slowly open your eyes to see Nanook peering down at you with worry. Nanook sighs in relief and helps you sit up. You lean against Nanook and blink at the four faces with bleary eyes.

Dan Heng sighs. "It looks worse than we thought," Dan Heng grumbles.

"Is that normal? March, you're a girl. Is it normal for female-bodied people to have periods this bad that it makes them sick?" Caelus asks, poking the pink-haired girl beside him.

March shakes her head. "It all depends from person to person, Caelus. People experience periods differently," March replies.

You rub your eyes and wipe the sweat from your neck. You feel unbelievably sweaty and sticky. It's so discomforting, and you're tempted to tell your traveling companions to bury you in snow like how Sampo did it to himself when he was hiding from the Silvermane Guards. You sniffle, only to realize your nose is clogged, but they're also runny. 

Mr. Yang walks through the door with a bottle of water and medication in his hands. "Here, take these every eight hours." Mr, Yang hands you the medication.

Nanook helps you sit up, opens the medicine bottle, and hands you two pills. You toss two pills into your mouth, uncap the water bottle, and chug the water, washing the medication down. You drink the entire water bottle and place it on the nightstand, sniffling. Nanook cradles you in his arms and lays you on the bed. 

"I feel like I got hit by a train," you rasp, clearing your throat.

March chuckles. "No offense, but you look like you got hit by a train, too," March interjects.

Nanook ignores March's comment and brushes your hair from your face. You're sweating so much that your hair is sticking to your skin. You want to go back to sleep, but you can't because of the unbearable heat in your room, and you're incredibly hot. It's not too late to ask the others to bury you in the snow on Jarilo-VI, is it?

"Can you guys do me a favor?" You rasp.

Caelus and Dan Heng sit at the edge of your bed, nodding. You look at March and Mr. Yang. The two nod their heads in response, waiting for you to tell them what the favor was. You swallow the lump in your throat, wincing when you feel phlegm at the back of your throat. Nanook grabs your hands, squeezing gently.

You clear your throat for the umpteenth time. "Can you guys bury me in the snow on Jarilo-VI? I'm burning up, and I desperately need something to cool me down," you mumble.

"Absolutely not," Mr. Yang replies instantly, shaking his head.

Dan Heng sighs, closing his eyes. "Burying you in snow will give you hypothermia. It won't do you any good," Dan Heng deadpans.

You frown at Dan Heng and Mr. Yang's response to your request. It's not like you wanted them to literally bury you in the snow. At least waist down should do it, but not your entire body! Kind of. Would showering be a better option since you won’t be giving yourself hypothermia?

"Okay, if I can't bury myself in the snow to lower my body temperature, then can I take a cold shower to lower my body temperature? I feel sticky and disgusting," you plead. 

Caelus purses his lips and props his hands on his hips. "I don't see why not. But again, I don't think taking a shower while you're sick is a good idea. Maybe a bath should do,"

You hum and close your eyes. Your eyelids feel so heavy, and you can't do anything about it. Nanook sighs and lays beside you, propping himself up with his arms while watching you closely. He reaches forward and presses the back of his hands against your cheeks. Your fever has gotten worse overnight after you cleaned up and put on pads. 

This was the first time you have gotten sick since arriving in their universe. It's hard seeing you suffer, and they can't do much about it aside from calling for help and assistance from others on the Xianzhou Luofu and Jarilo-VI. Mr. Yang gets up and excuses himself before walking out of your bedroom to make a phone call. 

Gosh, you feel so sweaty and sticky. You just want to take a shower and change into clothes that aren't soaked in sweat. Even if your clothes aren't soaked in sweat, it sure feels like it. It'll be a quick shower. One shower won't hurt, right? You slowly roll out of bed and grab a change of clothes and clean underwear. You waddle to the bathroom but stop abruptly. You visibly shudder when you feel your uterine lining shed and spill out of your insides and onto the pad. You squeeze your eyes shut and continue walking to the bathroom, ignoring the questioning look Nanook, Caelus, and Dan Heng shoot in your direction.

March sighs, shaking her head. "Don't ask [Y/N] about it," March says,

Caelus raises his eyebrows at March. "Oh? And you know what [Y/N] dealt with just a second ago?"

She turns to look at Caelus and Dan Heng, nodding. Just thinking about it makes March shudder. It's not a pleasant feeling, no matter the size of the uterine lining shedding. In the bathroom, you stare at the bloody pad with horror. You can't tell if it's a blood clot, a uterine lining, or a miscarriage. You shudder again, rolling the used pad up into the wrapping before tossing it into the trash can. 

You made sure to shower at a warm temperature instead of freezing or boiling hot water. You stand in the shower, watching the blood get washed down the drain. Another wave of painful cramps kicks in, nearly knocking you off your feet. You hug your abdomen, squeezing your eyes shut. You quickly rinse the shampoo and conditioner out of your hair, scrub your body down with apple blossom body wash, and wash the inside of your thighs and groin with unscented soap.

Your legs start to feel like gelatin. You sit on the ground and hug your knees to your chest, letting the water rain down on you as you contemplate why this is happening all of a sudden and if the fever was caused by your period. You rest your head against the tile walls, closing your eyes and sighing. You blindly turn the shower off before peeking your hand from the curtains, searching for the towel to wrap yourself in. 

Now that you finished showering, you have a small time window to dry your body before blood starts gushing from your groin. You're not in the mood to clean the blood off the ground, and you certainly do not want to deal with any more bloodstains. You quickly dry your body and put your underwear on, making sure the pad is secured in place so it wouldn't slide around. You put your clothes on, wrap the towel around your head, and exit the bathroom.

"Gumdrop! I heard what happened and rushed to the Astral Express as fast as I could!" Sampo cries out, barreling toward you and tackling you into a hug.

You grunt and squeeze your eyes shut when you feel blood gush onto the pad. You wince and open one eye to look at the indigo-haired man with a strained smile, patting his back. Sampo releases you and holds you at a distance, both hands on your shoulders, while looking at you closely. 

Sampo squints. "You look a little bit different today, Gumdrop," Sampo says, cupping your face with both hands. "Wow, Mr. Yang wasn't kidding when he said you're burning up."

Mr. Yang sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with annoyance. "Sampo, please don't overwhelm them. They're not feeling well. Let them dry their hair and let them rest after."

You weren't exactly in the mood to dry your hair. You prefer to let your hair air dry, but knowing Mr. Yang, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Blade, Nanook, and Dan Heng, they would disapprove of that. You have an inkling feeling that Mr. Yang will tell you that not drying your hair will cause headaches and is the possibility of why you're sick. Everyone on the Astral Express knows you don't dry your hair with a hairdryer and that you prefer to let it dry on its own. 

You reluctantly take the towel off your head before returning to the bathroom to dry your hair with medium heat while trying not to fall asleep while standing up. A knock at the door pulls you out of your daze. You turn to see Blade standing there, leaning against the door frame, gazing at you with scrutiny. You blink at him, letting the warm air caress your face. Blade sighs, walks into the bathroom, takes the hairdryer from your hands, and begins combing his fingers through your hair wordlessly. You close your eyes and let Blade comb his fingers through your semi-damp hair. 

"I don't think it's a good idea to take a shower while having a fever," Blade murmurs, making sure to dry the areas that are still cold and damp.

You purse your lips. "I was sweating a lot, Blade. I didn't want to lay in bed all day in sweaty clothes," you reply.

Blade scrunches his nose up with disgust. "I wouldn't come anywhere near you if you were wearing clothes soaked in sweat," Blade mutters, poking your back lightly.

"Ha! As if Nanook would let you get anywhere near me in the first place! Speaking of Nanook, where is he?" You murmur, turning to search for the Aeon of Destruction.

Blade smacks his lips with annoyance and turns your head to face the mirror so he can continue to dry your hair.

While drying your hair, Blade accidentally knocks the barrel of the hair dryer against your forehead. You groan and cover the area with your hand while Blade rushes to turn the hair dryer off. Blade grabs your face and makes you take your hand away from the area where he accidentally hit your head with the barrel. 

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to hit you," Blade murmurs, pressing a kiss on the throbbing spot.

You pout and let Blade soothe the aching spot with a kiss while lightly rubbing it with his index and middle finger. Dan Heng pops up at the entrance of the bathroom, narrowing his eyes at Blade. Blade ignores Dan Heng's presence and continues to massage the spot.

Dan Heng crosses his arms over his chest, stepping into the bathroom. "What happened, and why is [Y/N]'s face pinching with pain?" Dan Heng raises his eyebrows at you and Blade. The stair and eyebrow-raising are mainly directed toward Blade, who continues to ignore Dan Heng's presence and questions.

"It's nothing! Don't worry about it!" You squeak, waving Dan Heng off while Blade continues to massage the area where he accidentally hit you.

After massaging your head for a few minutes, Blade grabs your brush and starts brushing your hair. You look in the mirror to see Dan Heng at the doorway with Sampo standing there, pouting at you like a lost puppy. You clear your throat, rubbing your throat. Blade puts the brush down on the counter and pats your head. You quietly thanked Blade before leaving your bathroom with Sampo trotting after you.

"[Y/N], are you sure you're okay?" Gepard asks.

You slowly kneel on your bed before plopping face down. Dear Aeons, you're so tired. Your cramps are killing you, and your uterine lining is shedding, and plopping onto the once-white pad is making you feel so gross and out of it. Well, gross isn't the right word to describe it. Just feeling it oozes onto the pad makes you shudder and get goosebumps.

Your voice is muffled against your pillow, "Yeah, I should be okay, Gepard. It's something I've been dealing with for years now."

You flip over on your back and close your eyes, fanning yourself with your hands. The fan blowing cool air into your bedroom isn't working, and your body continues to feel overheated. You huff, sitting up and rubbing your face with annoyance. Everyone is wearing their daily clothes while you're wearing the thinnest clothing you have and the shortest clothing you own. None of them was heating up, and you're over here about to break into a sweat again despite taking a shower not long ago. 

"Is burying me in the snow on Jarilo-VI still out of the options?" You ask, frowning at March, Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang.

March snorts. "Of course it is! You're going to get yourself even more sick than you already are! Now, lay back and enjoy being pampered by these lovesick fools," March says, gesturing over to the men behind her.

The men behind March all rub their necks while looking around your room, avoiding your gaze. On the other hand, Nanook did not look too pleased with March's comment and the reaction from the nine men. You plop back on your bed and close your eyes, a wave of dizziness hitting you hard. You groan and squeeze your eyes as tightly as you can. Your stomach starts to churn, making you freeze with fear and worry. You slowly open your eyes and stare into space.

Luocha gazes at you, worried. "Are you alright? You don't look too good," Luocha says, taking a step toward your bed.

"I think you forgot they're sick, Luocha. For someone who's great at healing those around him, you're not the brightest today, are you?" Luka teases, earning a glare and an elbow to the rib from the man with long blond hair, 

You suddenly leave your bed in a hurry, running to the bathroom and slamming the door behind you before anyone can follow you. You lock the door, open the toilet lid, and vomit into the toilet. You vomited and vomited until there was nothing left inside. You flush the toilet and crawl to the sink to brush your teeth to rid of the aftertaste. After brushing your teeth, you step out of the bathroom and wipe the bead of sweat from your forehead.

"Oh, sweetheart, this is worse than we thought," Jing Yuan whispers.

Your knees buckle underneath you, sending you tumbling to the ground. Jing Yuan grabs you before your head can touch the ground, and he cradles you in his arms. You grip his shirt, eyebrows pinching together with discomfort. Jing Yuan sighs and carries you over to your bed. Nanook steps forward and takes you out of Jing Yuan's arms, making the General of the Xianzhou Luofu huff with annoyance. 

"From now on, until you feel one hundred percent better, you're not permitted to leave your bed," Luocha instructs, standing at the foot of your bed with his arms over his chest. "As restricting as that sounds, this is for the sake of your health."

Luka clears his throat. "But they are allowed to leave their bed to go to the bathroom?" Luka asks.

You grip Nanook's shirt and pull him down to lie beside you. Nanook chuckles and scoots you over on your bed before getting comfortable beside you. Sampop huffs loudly, narrowing his eyes at Nanook as the Aeon of Destruction wraps his arms around your waist and plants a kiss on your burning cheeks. 

"I'm sure they're allowed to leave their bed for basic things," Gepard sighs, shaking his head.

You bury your face into Nanook's chest and close your eyes, the sound of Nanook's steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep. After you have fallen asleep, Jing Yuan starts assigning each person duties around the Astral Express. From getting you food to getting you medicine to adjusting the temperature on the Astral Express to fit your needs and to making sure you're comfortable. 

Everyone is well aware that your sudden sickness is caused by your menstrual cycle, and they wish they could do something to ease your pain (aside from giving you pain medications for your cramps). But they can do only so much, and not even Luocha can ease your pain. Luocha sits at the edge of the bed, and Nanook tenses up, glaring at the blond man that dares to be close to you. Luocha sighs and rolls his eyes, holding his hands up.

Jing Yuan smiles at Nanook, trying not to show his annoyance. "Nanook, I understand you worry about [Y/N] and are protective of them, but you need to let Luocha check [Y/N]'s condition," says Jing Yuan.

Nanook bites the inside of his lips before nodding hesitantly, sitting up, and adjusting you in his arms. You mumble in your sleep, burrowing your face into Nanook's chest and wrapping your arms and legs around him like a koala. March giggles and turns to look at the others, but her smile fades away when she sees how tense everyone in the room is. March clears her throat and slowly steps out of your room. If anything, she would rather not be caught in the crossfire. Poor unconscious you, lying in the middle of the tension between ten men who has deep feelings for you.

Luka crosses his arms over his chest. "I want [Y/N] to cuddle with me. Are we allowed to do that?" Luka asks, looking around.

Gepard raises his eyebrows at Luka. "What do you mean? Can you clarify that?" asks Gepard, propping his hands on his hips.

Before Luka can reply, a soft sneeze can be heard from your, Luocha, and Nanook’s direction. You sneezed into your arms, making sure not to sneeze on Nanook’s chest. You peek and look at everyone sleepily.

“Excuse me,” you whisper before burying your face into Nanook’s chest to continue your sleep.

Nanook caresses your head as you snuggle into his arms. Nanook chuckles and runs his fingers through your hair, ignoring the stares you and Nanook receive from the others in the room. Even in your sleep, your cramps continue to squeeze and twist your uterine muscle. While it's the muscle contracting, it feels like you're being put through the wringer. You whimper in your sleep and roll on your side away from Nanook.

"Did they take the pain medication?" Jing Yuan asks, turning to look at Mr. Yang.

Mr. Yang sighs, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Yes, they took their medication before you arrived at the Astral Express. Because they vomited, the medication did not absorb into their body properly," replies Mr. Yang.

You open your eyes and sit on your bed, sniffling and staring into space. Nanook props himself up on your bed and stares at you, wondering why you're awake all of a sudden. You frown and close your eyes before falling over face-first on the bed. Nanook shoots up and pulls you into his arms, glaring at any person that dares to come close. Caelus turns to look at Jing Yuan, propping his hands on his hips.

"If we're assigning duties, can Nanook be involved too? I don't think cuddling [Y/N] should be one of the duties as it does exclude others from joining in on the cuddle session," Caelus says.

Sampo raises his hands. "What if cuddling helps [Y/N]? I know it's hard to believe, but I think cuddling is the best thing to do while sick and menstruating," Sampo interjects.

You wrap your arms around Nanook, staring at the nine men and March with bleary eyes. You want to sleep the cramps away, but you're in so much pain that it's keeping you awake. At least you're not feeling nauseous anymore. Even if you were feeling nauseous, what's there to throw up when you vomited everything up already? Quite Frankly, you're not opposed to cuddling with every person. However, you're more worried about getting each person sick just by being around them and being in the same room as them.

Oh, and Nanook wouldn't like to see you cuddle with someone that isn't him. You look at Nanook, who's gazing at you worriedly. You reach up and pat his cheek before running your hands through his hair. Nanook smiles, grabs your hand, and kisses your knuckle. 

"As amazing as that sounds, I don't think someone would be too pleased about sharing their little shooting star with any of you buffoons," March comments, propping her hands on her hips and leaning on one leg. 

Everyone looks over at Nanook, who quickly looks up and glares at them briefly before looking down at you. You stare at Nanook quizzically. Nanook shakes his head before leaning down to kiss your head. Nanook scrunched his face and wiped his lips after feeling his lips make contact with your sweaty forehead. You gasp softly and look at Nanook with your mouth agape. You pout and roll from Nanook's arms.

"Starlight, I was teasing you," Nanook chuckles.

You sit at the edge of the bed and close your eyes, shaking your head stubbornly. Nanook sighs in defeat, pushing himself up from the bed, and crawls toward you. You refuse to look at Nanook as he sits behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap and resting his chin on your head. You crack one eye open and look at the others, shaking your head.

You sigh dramatically. "I'm willing to cuddle with someone new! Someone who doesn't mind kissing my sweaty forehead because I have a fever!" You announce, looking at Nanook.

Luka steps forward, clearing his throat. "I volunteer as tribute! After all, I don't mind cuddling with you while you're sick. You can see it as me making it up to you after the incident," says Luka, nodding his head.

Nanook raises his eyebrows at Luka, crossing his arms over his chest. Luka looks away from Nanook, rubbing his prosthetic arm. Nanook stares at the prosthetic arm before connecting two and two together. The Aeon of Destruction wants to lash out and give Luka a piece of his mind. Still, since the incident happened a while ago, and you're sick and menstruating, Nanook decides to let it roll off his shoulders. 

You shrug your shoulders and gesture for Luka to approach. Nanook exhales deeply through his nostrils, trying his best not to show his annoyance with watching other men cuddle with you. Luka perks up and struts over to you happily while ignoring the murderous glares given to him as he walks by the other men.

You get off Nanook's lap, crawl back onto the bed, and lie down while waiting for Luka to lay beside you. Nanook and Luka have a stare-down, none of them moving from their spot. You adjust, fluff the pillow underneath your head, and peek over your shoulders to see Nanook and Luka glaring at one another.

"This is getting awkward," Gepard whispers, refusing to take his eyes off the scene before him and the others.

Jing Yuan steps forward, smiling at Luka and Nanook stiffly. "Gentlemen, let's not let [Y/N] wait any longer, shall we? They need to get plenty of rest, and the longer we keep them waiting, the more fatigue they will be," says Jing Yuan.

Nanook clenches his jaws as he gets off your bed, stepping to the side to let Luka crawl onto your bed. The man plops in front of you, smiling at you as he holds his arms out. You scoot into his arms and bury your face into his neck. Luka's face turns almost as dark as his hair, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. You sigh with contentment, letting your body relax in Luka's arms. Luka smells like detergent, shampoo, and cologne. You can't help but feel comforted by the smell. 

Luocha chuckles. "Well, after your cuddling session with [Y/N] is over, I will be conducting a check-up on [Y/N] to make sure they're okay. It's better to be safe than sorry," says Luocha.

Luka nods and watches everyone leave your room to do what they were tasked with. Once every person left your room, Nanook remained. Nanook stands where the fan is blowing. His arms crossed over his chest while he stared at you and Luka with scrutiny. Luka likes cuddling with you. This is the first time he's been able to get this close to you without Nanook charging at him like an angry bull.

You crack your eyes open to look at Luka, watching the man before you stare at the Aeon of Destruction with wary. You wrap your arms around his waist and stare at the distracted man. Luka notices the way Nanook tenses up when he sees you wrap your arms around Luka's waist. Your bodies are touching, faces so close that Nanook swears that if Luka were to turn his head to look at you, your noses would be touching.

Your body is so hot that Luka swears it can melt his prosthetic arm. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating about your body temperature, but your body is pretty hot, and he can feel the heat through his clothes. You search for the tissue box, feeling the snot beginning to roll down your nostrils. You poke Luka's chest and point at the box of tissues on your nightstand. Without getting off the bed, Luka leans over and reaches for the tissue box. 

You smile at Luka and grab the tissue from the tissue box he handed to you. You struggle to sit up, prompting Luka to help you. You lean against the man and wipe your nose, head tucked into the crook of Luka's neck. You sniffle and yawn, squeezing the tissue in your hands and closing your eyes,

"You're really warm," you murmur.

Luka kisses your forehead, ignoring the bristling Nanook from a distance. "And you're hot," Luka replies.

Nanook's head snapped toward Luka's direction, his gold eyes turning crimson red with anger and jealousy. You pout and press the back of your head to your forehead, not feeling a difference in temperature. Luka chuckles and kisses your cheek while brushing the hairs from your face. 

"Hey, hey, hey! We're back! Luka, it's time for you to swap out with the next person," Sampo says, entering the room with plushies in his arms while Gepard has a thin throw blanket draped over his arms.

Luka sighs in defeat and reluctantly leaves your side, passing a fuming Nanook on his way toward the door. You turn to look at Sampo and Gepard as the two approach your bed and sit on the edge of your bed on each side. You're too tired to question why you're going to be sandwiched between Gepard and Sampo, but you're not complaining. Sampo hands you a plushie, and you hug the plush to your chest, plopping on the bed and closing your eyes.

When Gepard lays on your bed, something catches his attention—the flower he bought for you at the Eversummer Florist in Belobog. The beautiful flower is sitting near your desk, full of life. Gepard smiles and rolls on his side, propping himself up on his right arm and running his hands through your hair.

"You still have the flower," Gepard murmurs, rubbing the apples of your cheeks with his thumb.

You clear your throat, nodding. "Of course, I still have the flower. It's beautiful, and I've been making sure to take care of it well," you reply, clearing your throat.

The two men sandwich you between them. You're debating who you're going to snuggle up against aside from the plushie you're cradling. Noticing your inner turmoil, Sampo turns you to face him, having you throw one leg over his waist while your head is resting on his bicep. Gepard then spoons you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and closing his eyes.

The murderous glare Nanook is giving Sampop and Gepard would have sent them running for the hills. Still, since everyone is allowed to snuggle with you (because you said so and you wanted a new cuddling partner that won't recoil with disgust after kissing your sweaty forehead), Sampo and Gepard decide to enjoy this moment while it lasts. A few seconds later, Nanook decides to leave your bedroom, anger, and jealousy bubbling in his chest.

Gepard and Sampo look at one another over your head, tiny smirks appearing on their faces. It wasn't that Sampo and Gepard are joyful that Nanook is angry and storms out of your bedroom. They're just glad that they didn't have to deal with the Aeon of Destruction's wrath. Yet. Sampo rubs your arms when you shiver, burrowing your face into his neck. Sampo kisses your forehead and closes his eyes. You soon drift to sleep in between Sampo and Gepard. The last thing you felt before you drifted to sleep was Gepard kissing your flushed cheeks, murmuring a soft goodnight (even though it's not nighttime).

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that Sampo and Gepard are no longer by your side. You pout and groan softly, sniffling and hugging the plushie to your chest with an iron grip. Something (or someone) beneath you shifts. You blink and look around sleepily, slowly looking up to see Mr. Yang gazing at you intently. You blink at the older man and rub your eyes. How in the world did you end up on top of Mr. Yang?

"You're a heavy sleeper. Did you know that?" Dan Heng asks.

The more awake you become, the more you're aware that Dan Heng, Mr. Yang, and Caelus are sitting up. You're the only one that's lying down on top of Mr. Yang. You look around your room to see Nanook standing where he was prior to leaving your room when Sampo and Gepard were sandwiching you, frowning at the three men. How long have Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang been in your bedroom? 

You clear your throat. "How long have I been asleep?"

"I would say almost two hours now. After we told Sampo and Gepard their time was up, you dragged us to your bed and had Mr. Yang become your body pillow," Caelus replies, giving you a teasing smile. 

You blink at Caelus. You didn't recall being awake when Sampo and Gepard's time was up. Your face heats up, imagining your sick, sleepy self grabbing Mr. Yang by his wrist and pulling him toward your bed so he can be your body pillow as you snuggle with the plushie Sampo gifted you. You look at Nanook for confirmation. The Aeon of Destruction has a deep frown, nodding stiffly when you give him a questioning look. You bury your face into the plushie, continuing to lie on Mr. Yang. He's very comfortable to lay on and makes a perfect body pillow to snuggle up against or to lay on.

"I hope you didn't mind me laying on top of you while I slept. I don't remember waking up," you murmur, peeking at the brown-haired man from your plushie.

Mr. Yang smiles, brushing your hair behind your ear. "I don't mind it. As long as you're comfortable, that's all that matters to me," Mr. Yang murmurs, kissing the top of your head.

Dan Heng hums with amusement. "Who knew Mr. Yang is very affectionate," Dan Heng comments nonchalantly.

Mr. Yang ignores Dan Heng's comment, stroking your hair while you stretch your limbs and yawn. You continue to lay on Mr. Yang's chest but eventually migrate to Caelus, lying on the silver-haired man's chest while he plays with your fingers. Dan Heng, Mr. Yang, and Caelus murmur to each other while you stare into space, not realizing you're staring at the pouting Nanook. You blink and wave at Nanook, who huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Caelus's chest rumbles beneath you. You pout and look up at Caelus, who gazes at you with amusement. "I don't think he's happy with me at the moment," you mumble, continuing to lie on Caelus' chest.

"Don't take it the hard way, Starlight. You know how possessive the Aeon of Destruction can get when it comes to you," Luocha interjects, leaning against the doorway with Blade and Jing Yuan standing beside him.

You roll over to face the entrance of your room and wave at the three men. You yawn, hug the plushie to your chest, and cough into your elbows. You still feel like the Astral Express ran over you. Your head hurts so much, and you feel like you have the urge to vomit again, even though you still haven't eaten anything. You sniffle and slowly sit up, crawling over to Dan Heng. Dan Heng opens his arms, and you plop onto his chest, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

Luocha walks to you with medication in his hands. "I can't heal you from your menstrual cycle, but I do have medication that should ease the cramps and body aches," Luocha says, sitting at the edge of the bed and opening the medicine bottle. 

Luocha takes two large pills from the bottle and hands them to you. You stare at the pills and look at Luocha. The blond man nods, gesturing for you to take the medicine while grabbing a cup of water from your nightstand. You nearly did a double take, wondering where the cup of water came from. You continue to stare at the large pill tablets in your hands, unsure of wanting to take them.

Jing Yuan raises his eyebrows at you. "Are you going to take your medication? If you don't take them, it won't ease the cramps and body aches," Jing Yuan comments, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You shake your head, handing the pills back to Luocha, hugging the plush tight to your chest and burying your face into Dan Heng's chest. There's no way in hell you can swallow pills that are almost as long as Nanook's fingers (he has pretty hands and long fingers). Blade snorts, entering the room with Jing Yuan following behind. Nanook narrows his eyes at Blade, watching the red-eyed man stand at the foot of your bed.

"Isn't it obvious? [Y/N] is scared of taking pills. They're afraid they'll choke on it," Blade comments, huffing with amusement. 

You glare at Blade, snatch the pills from Luocha's hands, and hold them up for everyone to see. There's no guarantee you won't choke on the pills and suffocate. It's going to happen, and no amount of water you can down get those two large pills down your throat and into your stomach. 

"I know what else [Y/N] can choke on," Sampo comments cheekily, smirking from the doorway.

Gepard's eyes widen, and his cheeks turn bright red. "Did you really have to say that, Sampo?! Now is not the right time to make a dirty joke," Gepard hisses, nudging the indigo-haired man with a glare. 

Luka laughs, standing between the blond man and the indigo-haired man and propping his arms on their shoulders. "I think Sampo is referring to good," he holds up a bag of food to show everyone, "you, on the other hand, need to get your head out of the gutter."

Your eyes light up at the sight of food in Luka's hands. Finally! Something to fill your stomach before you're forced to take medication that's the length of Nanook's fingers. Luka puts the bag of food in front of you, and you open it to see comfort food, a small bowl of fried rice with a bottle of whale-tide water. 

"I think you should take your medication first before eating. If you're worried about choking on the pills, I suggest you take the medication then eat after, or else you'll throw up again," Blade says.

You pucker your lips. "Can I skip the medicine?" You ask, batting your eyelashes at the men. 

The men give you a look of disapproval. You frown and sigh, staring at the pills in your hand, not wanting to take them. While you hate taking medication, that's huge, you're also a people pleaser, and you love it when people praise you, unfortunately. You sniffle dramatically and take the cup from Luocha's hand before tossing the two abnormally large pills into your mouth and down the water like your life depended on it. It sort of does because if you don't drink enough water to wash the medicine down, it'll get stuck in your throat, and you'll choke and probably die.

You squeeze your eyes shut when the two large pills slide down your throat. Your worst fear comes true when the pills get lodged at the back of your throat. You chug the water faster, drinking as fast as you can to wash the pills down. After what felt like an eternity, the two pills dislodged from your throat, and you successfully swallowed the huge pills. You slam the cup of water on the nightstand and wipe your lips, panting.

"Man, I drank so much water. I'm not hungry anymore," you sigh, slumping against Dan Heng's chest. "Save it for later."

You return the food to the men and lay between Mr. Yang and Dan Heng on the bed. Dan Heng strokes your hair before getting up from the bed. Mr. Yang and Caelus soon follow after patting your head and kissing your head. You stare at them as the other three get on your bed. 

"Are you sure you don't want to eat? You'll feel nauseous if you don't eat anything," Blade mutters, kneeling on the edge of your bed before lying beside you. 

You open your mouth to reply, but the cramps kick in, making you freeze and tense up. You let out a low, strained groan and shake your head instead of giving a verbal response. Blade sighs, pulling you up toward his chest. You want to fight back and move from him, but you're too tired to be stubborn. Jing Yuan and Luocha sit beside Blade while you're being cradled. 

Jing Yuan looks at Luocha. "Did you ever figure out what started first?' Jing Yuan asks.

Luocha sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Unfortunately, I did not. [Y/N] woke up, and they weren't feeling well. Their menstrual cycle has begun, and they also have a fever."

You sniffle and turn to look at Nanook, who continues to pout from the other side of the room. You gesture for him to come over, but the Aeon remains where he stands. You pout and sit up, staring at the Aeon. Nanook continues to stand where he's at, staring at you and the three men on your bed.

You sniffle and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. "Nanook is mad at me," you state.

"I don't think Nanook is mad at you. He's upset that he's not the only one that can cuddle you," Blade retorts, turning to look at the pouting Aeon of Destruction with a smirk.

Luocha and Jing Yuan chuckle. 

"Before we let you and Nanook cuddle in peace, let us have some time with you," Luocha says.

The two men (Jing Yuan and Luocha) end up sandwiching you between them. You were lying on Blade, but you wanted to give the other two men a chance to cuddle with you. Plus, you're also still mad (not really) at Blade for teasing you. How dare he make a comment about not wanting to come close to you while you're wearing clothes soaked in sweat? That's a valid reason, but you're sick, you're menstruating, and you're sweating because of your fever. 

You nearly drift off to sleep when Luocha, Jing Yuan, and Blade get off your bed. You lift your head to see the three men getting ready to leave your room. Of course, the men aren't going to leave without kissing your head and wishing you well. Wanting to piss Nanook even more, Blade leans down and makes sure to kiss your cheek close to your lips. Blade pulls away with a smirk and walks off with his head held high.

Once the three men left you and Nanook alone, Naook huffs and walks to your bed and flops beside you dramatically. Nanook hardly gives you any time to speak when he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. You squeak and watch helplessly as Nanook rips the plushie from your grasp and tosses it to the ground on the other side of the room.

"Nanook! That wasn't nice!" You scold.

The Aeon of Destruction pouts and rests his chin on your head, tightening his arms around your waist. You poke his cheek to grab his attention. Nanook looks down at you, continuing to pout. 

You mumble, "I thought you didn't want to cuddle or kiss me because I was sweaty."

Nanook sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "I never said that, little one. I was merely teasing you," Nanook mutters. "I learned my lesson not to make you upset. I don't like seeing you cuddle with someone that isn't me."

You giggle and bury your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. "I'm not upset, Nana. You're so cute when you're jealous and pouting," you coo, poking his cheek.

Nanook grabs your hand and kisses your knuckle. "I wasn't pouting. Now, get some rest. When you wake up, make sure to eat."

"Oh! So you are jealous!" You laugh victoriously.

Nanook grabs you by the back of your neck and lightly shoves your face into his chest, playfully rolling his eyes. A faint hue of red dusts his cheeks. "Little one, sleep."

You huff like a petulant child. "Fine."

The last thing you feel before falling asleep is Nanook combing his fingers through your hair while pressing light kisses on your head. While it’s a shame to have little to no time with each man, you hope you’ll be able to spend time with them individually without a pouting Nanook glaring at you and your male companions from across the room.

Note: I am posting this fic first ahead of the Genshin fic because I need more time to type it out. Therefore the HSR fic is the first fic posted! I'm not sure how it'll turn out when I post on AO3 due to the DDOS attack, and I'm worried it won't show up for people. My vacation is coming up in a few days, and I won't be able to write the typical long fics. This week and next week will be mainly mini-fics instead of the fics that are close to 10k words. I haven't written a fic that's 10 words in so long omg. For those who want to be tagged in the HSR fics, here is the [HSR Taglist]. I will be writing the first smut for HSR very soon! Vote for who you want to be the first, and from there on, anyone can be next (the poll is mainly to see who's going to be the first one to get smut in the series). You can vote at the [HSR Smut Poll] before I close the poll soon. The previous week's discord link has now expired, so for those who want to pop into my discord and lurk or chat with other server members, here is a new (and temporary) server link to [Zhongli's Abode]. Please make sure to read the server rules closely before deciding whether you want to remain in the server or not. To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for the HSR one-shot series: @ashwasherelol, @mompt2, @elegantnightblaze, @lunavixia, @jadedist, @pinksaiyans, @n8mareee, @aurelia-xyt, @ssunset0, @starrry-angel, @kaoyamamegami, @kodzuvk, @for3very0urs, @a-cosmicdawn, @g3n0dtt, @theblades, @wntrsblvd, @raaawwwr, @immahuman, @irisxiel, @siaracarroll, @crazydreamcat, @sagekun, @orichalcumthief, (Accounts that I was unable to tag are not tagged in this fic. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[sseniita]

is it hot in here or is it just you?

“It’s so nice.” The hero’s voice sounded robotic against the fan blades. “So nice.” 

She was kneeling in front of an oscillating fan and moving with it as it rotated back and forth, letting her hair tangle as it moved uncontrollably in the artificial breeze. Despite the air conditioning and lack of decent clothes, there was a shiny sheen of sweat on her body and bright red flush on her cheeks. The villain’s stare couldn’t help but wander to her bare shoulders and sliver of tummy under her top; why the appearance of a woman in shorts and a tank top gave him the reaction of seeing a woman’s ankle for the first time in the eighteenth century- he wasn’t sure. 

“You’ll dry up if you don’t give that a break.” Truthfully, the villain was getting chilly with every fan in his apartment on and at full speed, “That and you’ll be paying for my electricity bill.” 

“My apartment doesn’t have air conditioning and I can’t afford a fan,” the hero spared him a glance. “What makes you think I can pay a bill?” 

The villain's eyebrow quizzed, “Heroism not paying well?” 

“I’m wealthy in applause and honour.” she shuffled left to follow the fan. “Besides, this is you making it up to me after breaking my wrist last month.” 

The villain’s lip quirked. “Right. Oops.” 

The villain took a seat on his couch near the hero and her designated cooling nest. The floor was strewn with water bottles, ice-filled thermoses and damp towels the hero would rotate through in attempts to get relief from the heat. 

“You’d think having fire powers would make you immune to heat. You could be fighting monsters with the power of a million suns” 

“I know. I swear I’m being pranked by some celestial force. I’m immune to my heat- but the sun’s evil 40 degree weather feels like I’m in a preheating oven” The hero groaned with frustration, running a hand through her hair. “It’s so hot! Can’t you turn me into an ice cube or something?” 

The villain’s ice power complimented the hero very well. Maybe too well, this wasn’t the first time they were in this situation. 

“You know you’ll melt it, Hero.” 

“Can you… freeze the apartment?” she suggested timidly, knowing the answer he’d give her.

“Yes, Hero. I’ll freeze my entire apartment so you can stay cool.” 

“Come on!” She’s splayed out on the floor now, Villain cursed the way her shorts rode up. “Do me this one favour. Please!” 

“I think you misunderstand what one favour is.” He gestured to her cooling nest. 

“Can’t you use your powers or something? Villain, I’m literally burning up. Please.” The villain didn’t doubt it. He wasn’t sure what would happen if she overheated, he assumed being overheated was the norm for her. The hero stared hopefully at him, and the villain knew exactly what she wanted, what she had wanted everytime a heatwave made its way to their city, why she had come here in the first place. Dejected, he started taking off his shirt. 

“I should get paid for this.” He mumbled, the hero quickly made her way over to sit on the couch beside him, a large smile on her face. “You’re shameless.” 

“I’m desperate, Frosty.” She inched closer. “I promise I won’t interrupt your heists for a week.” 

The villain extended his arms, inviting the hero. “A month.” 

As if the act were the most natural thing in the world, the hero jumped on his lap, swinging her legs to his side. The villain automatically (much to his own surprise) wrapped his arms around her, as if preparing to bridal-carry her to the North Pole. Her arms wrapped around his neck, leaning her head in the crook of his neck and comfortably setting herself in place. 

“This is demeaning.” The villain said readjusting her for both their comfort, awakening his power to a satisfactory chill. He could feel the hero’s body temperature immediately cooling, he could have sworn he saw steam. 

“No,” she cuddled closer, “this is nice. So nice.” 

The villain rested his chin on the top of the hero's head and leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes and feeling the pleasant warmth radiating off the hero. Yes, this was nice.

[rakurairagnarok]

Hi there, I’m just beginning as a bodybuilder and I was wondering if you had anything that would help me grow bigger and get an edge over my competitors?

An edge over your competition you say? Well... Here at Rakurai Inc. we have something that might help with that.

As you get out of the shower after another intense workout, you hear your doorbell ring.

"Who could that be?" You ask out loud.

You walk to the front door, and looking through the peephole you see a small package in front of it.

You take it inside and look over it to find a small stamp with Rakurai Inc. on it. Opening the box, you find a large black massage gun inside, alongside a small note.

"Dear @musclejedi7 , we heard you were getting into the bodybuilding scene and hoped you could help us promote the company by sending you a new prototype massage gun. For optimal use please use within 30 minutes of your workout!. We wish you a transformative journey!!!"

You smirk. You had been getting pretty big, so ofcourse companies were gonna throw themselves at you to get more money.

You look at the time and sigh. It had already been 35 minutes after you finished working out, but you figured it wouldn't matter that much. After all, you had never heard of an 'optimal' time to use a massage gun before.

You turned it on and, since it was chest day today, put it against your sore pecs. Immediately waves of pain and pleasure soared through your body. Your eyes rolled back and a soft moan escaped your mouth.

"FuUuUuUck"

You looked down and chuckled. It was probably due to the gun pounding away at your pecs, but they were looking much bigger.

You continued running the massage gun across various parts of your body, the pleasure increasing in intensity. You bit down on your lip.

"Damn this feels amazing, but, my chest... has it always been this big?" You ask yourself as you look down again. You had been growing steadily but your tits looked much bigger than they did after the workout and you were already past the pump. Wait... tits?

You never called them that. They are pec...pect...pectits? Your eyes widened. Your brain was rambling for the proper term but it couldn't find it. You looked at your guns, no, not guns bi... bis... guns. The massage gun was doing its magic against your massive...GUNS.

You flex your arms, the guns growing. You chuckle again.

"Huhu so big"

NO! WHAT??

Your mind is racing. What is happening. You can't think of the correct names of muscle groups, and now you're just sitting there giggling like an idiot?

Your arm makes the gun move down to your legs, which immediatly send more pleasure to your overworking brain. A fun idea pops in your haze ridden mind, and you move the gun to your glu... glu... booty. What the fuck!!! As the gun touches the soft bubbly meat of your perky booty, your knees buckle in pleasure. You drop to the floor as the gun pounds away at your flesh, and for the first time you actually see what is happening. Your previously perky butt, which was barely bubbling due to the gun, was now visibly growing!

It got bigger and bigger, sending move waves into your already overheated brain. More chuckles escaped your slacked mouth, drool dripping down your lips. You accidentally increase the setting as you make the gun travel across your whole body, the pleasure stopping any brain activity to a screeching halt. Eventually getting so overwhelmed that you drop the gun, seemingly breaking it in the process as it stops vibrating.

You grab your groin with one meaty hand and your massive cheeks with the other. Your dick is already on the verge and your slow and mushy brain can only think of one thing to release it. You slip a finger into your hole, and cum. You keep shooting , on the floor, over your gi.. gi... big ass muscle tits, on your face, on the couch. Any sense of selfrespect and decency leaving your body with the creamy, delicious liquid.

You wanted an edge on the competition. Well you will be edging alright. You're the biggest after all, muscles, ass, libido, and biggest bottom the world has ever seen. You can still compete don't worry but I doubt your brain will be able to last on stage with all those massive cocks around you. All you will be thinking of is ways to get as many inside you as you can right?

[medicine-san]

savanaclaw android [ au belongs to @ceruleancattail ]

[ okay I've felt better now, and as promised here full story with 🍩 and 🐺. unfortunately most context were lost because I tried too hard to keep it short ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ I do not speak english, I don't know how to write, this is purely me being dedicated to murphy's law. ]

tw: fluff jack fluff jack fluff jack

leona who funnily enough was bought not to be a miracle as what people originally intended him to be, but a kindergarten teacher.

who would've thought such high maintenance android would end up getting his hands wiping some kid's piss and puke off the floor, his rumoured high intelligence are nought but just for teaching mere children's knowledge. not like he can do anything, his owner need his help. it's in the contract. letting these tiny creatures pestering him, their tiny hands all over him or his tail or his ears. or having them fight to sit on his uncomfortably hard thighs when it's lunch time.

what an insult to his creation.

but recently, he began to experience an unexplainable series of lagging in his speech pattern. his eyes begin to blur at times. simple tasks beginning to feel like a burden as his head would dangerously overheat, even the kids could see the strain he's baring from how much he's scrunching his brows.

the sound, he'd say, the sound. it's annoying.

a sound of something stirring. everytime he heard the sound, his eye would hurt so bad as if it's scratching to come out of his eye socket. his students would just childishly claim it was a migraine, telling him he should rest more. "I could not have migraine you stupid cubs", is what he'd say if not because of the strict filter for his speech.

popup notifications begin to emerge, warning him of a foreign third party running his system. multiple non permitable access to his memory drive, he just now noticed that there are viruses corrupting his system. how could this be possible? he never turned his antivirus software off. is there a malpractice happening without him knowing?

and it doesn't take long for him to figure out the problem.

his eyes are the problem.

the images, the videos, continuously sent to a certain someone he could not mention as that will breach the TOS. even thinking this is already straining his thought process to the point of overheating.

his eyes are the reason.

and with that same eyes, he continues to stare at the messy mess. nonchalantly showing off his bloodied hand with bits of what could be assumed as remnants of skin and flesh to the watching eyes behind the screen. it is a bit dark, but they are not stupid.

especially not after the screen went temporarily blocked before it shows the face of a certain android, specks of blood can be seen on his face.

don't you think delivery guys got away quite easily?

you can be one of those annoying old men who think the whole world is their enemy and will not hesitate to shoot you for wanting to get your ball that accidentally got into his lawn, but will let his gate open for limited access to his front door if you're his delivery guy. well, as long as they keep their bloodthirsty dogs on leash at least. humans are not to be trusted.

maybe it's not the greatest job, but it's one that he enjoys doing. the rush to get everything on time, the competition to stay on top, the joy that comes with being able to see new places and faces. ruggie enjoys it all. can machines even feel joy? he may have no answer to that, but it is something akin to that, if he could describe it.

or at least, that's what the old lady told him. truly, how could she describe human emotion on him, a robot? do humans really have to push their human perspective on everything? that's why they keep getting themselves in stupid situation for being too emotionally attached to objects. but then that's why those heartslabyul ai software is all the hit right now.

because they are lonely.

the old lady is kind. really! she always greet him whenever he came to the area for deliveries. asking him about his day, about the weather, if he's working too hard. such young man shouldn't get his skin burned by the sun! she'd say. grandma, don't you think your concern is misplaced? worry about yourself first, instead of this young roaring machine. I'm still full of energy, and carefully oiled. my gears won't rust away anytime soon, and I'm not getting busted that easily. not while there's still people who need his service.

like this shaky hand that's reaching out of the crack of the door.

the wide, soulless eye staring at him, pleading for that magical key to the world of happiness. to see such unhappiness, and him having the power to change it, oh how thrilling! he couldn't control the grin from widening!

he loves this job, it helps more people to be happy.

for a guard dog, jack model is certainly quite a character. not in a bad way, it's just funny to see this over 190cm android tensing up for his monthly checkups. even while sitting down, he still manage to tower over the mechanic's smaller figure. his ears flatten whenever their hands reaching the inside of him for any loose bolts, quietly whimpering to himself whenever they bumped his circuits with their fragile fingers while checking him up. his sensory should've been turned off, so it's certainly not "pain" he's experiencing.

"calm down, puppy,"

"you're making this difficult for me."

it's difficult for him too. human, can't you see? the way you're talking to him, the way you're handling him, how you'd rub circles around his knuckles whenever he'd had a nasty fight with aggressors, or when you'd aggressively scratch his head and ears after every patch ups with them, cooing him with "good boy"s and "good job"s. all while smelling like oil and chemical, the clinking sound of equipments softly echoing in the workshop, his ears catching up lowly moans of other androids under their care, the buzzing noise of fading life all around the two of them.

how romantic, hell he could imagine himself getting a kiss too from how much his brain is replaying all the romantic scenarios on tv dramas he'd play BEFORE coming here. oh please do, just a peck on my head is all I want. touch my cheeks and pull them lightly, what I'd do just to feel you gracing me with your marks on me. those damned lines play by itself on his mind as he's staring directly at their face. taking notes of how their face scrunched when he's not staying still to their liking, or at how their shadowed figure igniting a certain scene that got his eyes drooping. his tail lightly drumming the chair he's sitting on, the artificial fur sweeping their pants tenderly.

sickeningly sweet.

as if he didn't just had a romantic awakening in the middle of what can be considered a butcher's shop of his kind.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: postpartum depression, 18+ brief sexual content

"Okay, Ry ry, come on. Work with me. You're alright, baby, it's okay."

You're pacing back and forth across the living room in only a nursing bra and Simon's favorite pair of your shorts, the ones that barely cover the soft pleat where the tops of your thighs meet your cheeks. The coverage of your ass is just barely there, crescent moons creased in invitation for his tongue- willing him, tempting him to lick long lines from outside to inside until you’re spread wide over his face.

Now is not the time, however.

He watches you carefully, analyzing, cataloging, categorizing. Looking for a sign, a symptom, a warning that you might not be feeling as good as you let on. Tough little kitten. Stronger than you think.

The doctor told you to get better rest, eat more nutritionally dense foods, and hydrate. If the dizziness and fainting doesn’t improve, you’ll have to see a specialist.

He’s been breathing through his nose a lot, since you told him. Willing his heart rate to slow, urging himself to be calm.

Still-

His nightmares are no longer made up of his past, but his future. Sequences of you, unconscious on the floor, baby screaming in his crib. Simon nowhere to be found, hundreds of miles away with his finger on a trigger.

You slump in defeat. Orion screams at the top of his lungs, angry at what, you’re not sure. He's tried not to hover, opting to cook dinner instead, but when your voice cracks on your next plea for Orion to stop crying, he breaks away from the kitchen and settles behind you, firm hand rubbing circles into your hip. "Let's give you a break, mama."

You sniffle. "I don't know what's up with him tonight. He won't latch, but he has to be hungry. I don't know what to do." Simon slides a forearm under yours, supporting the baby’s weight, the other one palming your belly. Your head tips back against his chest, heat radiating from your body like a furnace, and he sways you side to side, careful and slow, rocking the two of you in a gentle rhythm. You're both overheated, and you've long stripped Ry down to a diaper, hoping it would alleviate some of his misery.

"Let me take over. You're exhausted." He kisses your neck, using the light shiver shuddering over your skin to his advantage. His touch gentles you, reins in the stubborn streak that keeps surfacing, and he carries no weight of regret when he twists you up with it a little bit. He’s been standing at the bottom of the well, waiting to catch you when you break. "Go get in the shower, and I'll try a bottle in a bit. See if I can't get him calmed down." He presses his lips to your shoulder.

"But... dinner..."

"It can wait. Go on." He lifts Orion, sitting him upright on his chest, and then gives you a gentle swat on your ass.

It doesn't take much convincing after that.

He tries to get Orion to take the plastic nipple of the bottle, tries rubbing on his cheek to trigger the rooting reflex, like you've taught him, to no avail. "Alright, little man. Let's give it a try, c'mon." He doesn't, but the vibration in Simon's chest when he speaks seems to distract him momentarily, enough that his crying stops for a split second, before returning to its high pitched wail. It’s a shocking sentiment. A startling discovery, one that burrows deep, slides under his skin, slicing him open. Could his son really be soothed by his own voice?

“I wasn’t there when you were born.” He smoothes a hand over the top of Orion’s head. “I didn’t know about you, but that’s not mama’s fault, daddy kind of… disappeared, and she didn’t deserve that. I should’ve been there. I know it was probably scary, for both of you.” The wailing and shrieking turns into a mewl. “I’m gonna make it up to you, and her, everyday, I swear. ‘m gonna keep you safe, you and mama, watch you grow, go to school, lose your first tooth. I’m gonna be there for your birthday parties and holidays, as much as I can.” Orion stares at him with wet, tearful eyes, cries turned to quiet whimpers. “Daddy doesn’t have a… normal job, but we’ll make it work, won’t we? You’ll see. I’ll always be here for you, bub.” The broken cries and whimpers almost stop all together, and Simon’s heart glows with pride. He did that. “That’s better, huh? Let’s go see if we can get you to eat something before bed, alright?” He keeps up a steady murmur, pushing open the door to your room, expecting to see- hoping, to see you just out of the shower, but instead-

he finds you in an oversized t shirt and panties, curled up on top of your blankets in bed. A wet towel sits crumpled on the floor, a pair of pajama pants lying on the bed frame by your feet. It looks like you did plan on making it out of the bedroom, but succumbed to your exhaustion instead, and he doesn’t blame you. Today was hard.

“Sweetheart.” He rubs your shoulder, mattress dipping with his weight. Your eyes open, bleary and confused, a question etched across your brow. “Hey, you fell asleep.” You nod, still not with it, lashes fluttering.

“‘m sorry. Baby?”

“He’s right here. Got him calmed down, think he’s ready to eat though.” You yawn, pawing at your shirt, trying to tug it up over your head, eyes closed again. “Alright, I’ve got it, here-“

“Did I miss dinner?”

“No honey. I put it in the oven to keep warm. When you’re ready I’ll bring a plate in f’you, alright?” You sigh, sleep drenched like your lungs are wet, ponderosity sunken in across your body. He thumbs your temple, trying to rouse you a bit more, urging you to roll onto your side, tucking Orion in next to your breast. It must be instinct, the way he finds you in the dark, and you breathe deep once he settles.

“Sorry I fell asleep.”

“You’re exhausted, mama.” Ry makes a little ‘k-ahh’ sound, like a soft puff of air, and you tug at your shirt half heartedly, trying to shuck it upward again. “Do you want this off?” He fingers the hem, and you nod, lifting an arm as he maneuvers around you and the baby.

Bloody hell. You’re a sight, only in your underwear, Orion at your chest. The hall light dips and drags over your body, painting you in yellows and shadow, broad brushstrokes of a goddess splayed out in front of him, feeding his baby.

He can’t tear his eyes away.

“What is it?” You croak, his fingers tracing the valley of your hip and stomach in an answer.

“You’re stunning.” He cradles the back of Ry’s head, leaning close, brushing his nose against yours before kissing you slow, letting it linger, losing himself in the moment.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” You hum into his mouth, still dewy from the shower, fresh spring rain falling from your lips. You’re more awake now, unhurried and sweet, and he slips to his knees at the edge of the bed, smoothing his hand over your shoulder and down your waist. The rolling meadow of goosebumps chasing his fingertips heats his blood-

Until your stomach rumbles. He chuckles. “Hungry?”

“A little.” You cup the back of Ry’s head and nod sheepishly.

“Okay.” He kisses you again because he can’t help it, can’t stop himself or hold back, the physical ache of being so close, yet so far away drives him to touch you, feel you, as much as he can. Before he’s gone. “Sit tight. I’ll get your dinner.”

Later, after he’s fed you (by hand, lifting a fork to your lips over and over as you sat like a perfect little kitten, propped up on a pile of pillows) while Ry nursed, and then put him down, cleaned up the dishes, and placed the baby monitor in its usual spot, he leans over you in bed, where you’re nestled under the blankets, sleepy and sweet. “Hey sleepy girl.”

“Hi.” You whisper, snuggling farther into the covers. “He go down okay?”

“Like a champ. Think he tired himself out with all the yelling earlier.” He presses a thumb to your bottom lip, sliding it back and forth before cupping your cheek. “Get some rest, I’ll get him when he gets up in a few hours.” He jerks his head towards the living room, where he usually takes his post before heading back, a block over, and then anxiously tosses and turns in bed until he hears from you in the morning.

He shifts closer to press his lips to your forehead, but you grab his wrist, grip tight, and there’s a hitch in your breath, a reedy, fragile thing that strikes his heart with bullets. “It’s supposed to get easier.” A tear tracks down your cheek, and he wipes it with his thumb.

“Oh sweetheart, it will. I promise it will.” He tries to soothe you, taking the hand that’s cemented to his wrist and interlacing his fingers with yours. “Postpartum is hard. You have to give yourself a break.”

“I know, it’s just… sometimes I feel like someone else should have been his mum,” your voice breaks, his stomach pitches, heart pounding in his ears. He could drown in the guilt, slip beneath the swell and fill his lungs with it, sink to the bottom with its weight. “Like he was meant for someone else, like someone else would be better. I was so sick when I was pregnant, and when he was born it was… traumatic…” you trail off, desperate, glassy look falling over your eyes before you close them, hand shaking in Simon’s grasp. He wants to wipe it all away, wipe it clean and fix it, patch the gaping wound he left. “Sometimes all he does is look at me and scream, like I’m a stranger. Like he doesn’t… love me, know me. Why aren’t I good at this?” Your chest is stuttering now, short breaths being choked off with sobs, and pulls you into his chest.

“You are good at this, mama.” He kisses your temple. “It doesn’t feel like it, because your head is a little… messed up with all the hormones and changes, but our son is healthy, and happy. He’s safe. You did that. You took care of him all on your own.” You’re still crying, tears spilling over your cheeks, and Simon cradles your face. “I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t here sweet girl. I’ll never forgive myself.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is. I’m the one who left you like a… like a ghost. I’m the one who didn’t care about the consequences and left you to face it on your own. You didn’t deserve that, and I don’t deserve you or that boy… but I’m going to try to do everything I can to make it up to you. I’m here, okay? You’re not doing this alone anymore. I’m here.” And you’re never getting rid of me. He doesn’t say it, not willing to disrupt the clearly fragile equilibrium of your emotions, but he feels it all the same. “Orion was meant to be yours, ours. No one else’s. You understand?” You nod, lower lip trembling. “Tell me, mama. Tell me you know our baby loves you like you hung the moon in the sky.”

“I- I know.”

“Come here.” He keeps you in his arms, settling back on your mountain of pillows, keeping a palm at the back of your head, other one rubbing up and down your spine. “That’s what you are. The moon. You and Orion, moon and stars. My moon and stars.” You manage a watery sigh, and then burrow your face into his chest, finally calm enough to take some long breaths, seconds turning to minutes as he holds you in the dark.

“Stay.” You whisper against him, nearly asleep again, and he answers with a kiss to the top of your head.

“I will. I promise.”

[itgirlgyu]

how i think txt would react if their female best friend sat on their lap

requested!

YEONJUN...

oh my god totally bitchless behavior coming in within 0.4 seconds

like this man will stop functioning, like is it normal to have your hands on the side?

tries to strike a pose

like daniel,, bby you're embarrassing yourself

swear he thinks he's like aha so fine

might lean back to play it cool

but you know he stiff as hell

like basically it's that dad pose when you know you've disappointed him and you're about to sit with him in a dark living room to soak in the immeasurable shame you've brought to the family.

his undergarment is drenched from stress sweats

might actually start stuttering

pls get off him before his dry sex life makes him pop a boner and the friendship gets ruined for life.

SOOBIN...

his head starts overheating due to overthinking the moment you sit on his lap like

the only two option were the floor where beomgyu spilled his drink or any of the dudes lap and he's your bestie boo so ofc you'd pick him

right?

tries to gaslight himself into thinking it's fine

like sure this shit is fine and it's normal to sit on each others laps.

but inside his head there are 4 tabs open, two of them are having a debate on the pros and cons of having your best friend on your lap and other two are playing tiktok random hits and he doesn't know which one he should tune in to

for the peace of his own mind, he tries to sit on your lap the next time

tit for tat he says.

BEOMGYU...

starts acting like you are crushing his thighs

he knows you playing so he's like aha two can play the game

girl you really thought you will outdo the doer

the og mr. mood breaker?

will straight up start moaning in your ears

starts squirming and whining like

'oooof my thighs are so fragile,'

does not give two cents about the place he is in

or the situation

or what people will assume

if soobin is the overthinker, beomgyu rarely thinks

its like his brain just takes off in a rush and it's taken over by the sheer need to annoy the fuck out of his bestie.

he's like the fly you can't just quite swat away

literally starts doing his own echo moan from one ear to another

you have to admit the defeat and get up on your own.

TAEHYUN...

will not straight up push you off him.

but the look he gives you, he might as well just put in the physical effort and do it.

his face is like, 'you did this for what?'

'why not?'

'why though?'

tries to get used to you sitting on him

like its chill

you're his bestie and he's a gym goer

so it does work out nicely

but the thing is like,

your back is blocking his vision

like its all chill and cute in movies but irl your sight will definitely get blocked and it has nothing to do with the person's height!

he tries to adjust so that he doesn't need to kick you off of him

and hurt your feelings or something

man is here jumping through hoops to seem effortless in order to continue his debate with hyuka about the importance of the balance between peanut butter and jelly in the sandwich

you see his struggle and move over on your own with a new found respect for terry the terrance taehyun kang

HUENING KAI...

he's looking at your head like, hmm you kinda sus

but that lasts like a whole lot of ten seconds before he's like nothings even on him

although he tries to smell the top of your head like what is the difference between a baby's head and an adult's crown

he is a curious little crow, it's one of his charms

makes a quick mental note to break it to you gently that you might need to take a lil bit more hygiene care on the top of your head.

he leans back

unlike yeonjun the daniel choi, he's fr chill

also man's broad as hell

he's like meant to be a chair at this point

you can lean in as much as you want on him and you know he would fine with anything

like he barely feels you on him anyway

you can probably just lean back on him and he'd cradle you like his first born

just maybe not kiss the top of your head

but he finally got an idea what to gift you on your birthday!

so it all worked out for the best!

© to itgirlgyu. feedbacks are highly appreciated and welcomed!!!!

[icarlyspanishsubtitles]

I got flu and need comfort soo how about reader getting sick while Quackity is in Mexico. I think he would be super worried and always calling to check on u.

Btw I loveed your last fic, you're amaziing <3

awee i love this idea! i’m so sorry i didn’t see it sooner i’ve been out of town, also thank you for the love, your amazing!! feel better! this was rushed, my apologies for it being shorter.

masterlist

“my poor sweet girl..”

warnings: ⚠️fluff, girl pronouns, sickness INCLUDING throw up. really descriptive feeling of sickness.⚠️

you had woken up that morning, feeling groggy and absolutely exhausted. you checked the time to see it was 3am, and the overwhelming feel of your stomach absolutely pounding felt horrible.

you ran to the bathroom, hurling over to the toilet feeling all of the fluids from your body dispose. tears came into your eyes from the unexpected turn. you layed yourself on the bathroom floor, hating so badly the feeling of being sick.

picking up the phone, you decided to call your boyfriend alex, he’s the only person that could make you feel better at this moment.

“hi my love. what’s going on, it’s like 2 am there or somethin.”

you could hear his smile through the screen, which clearly left after you started crying a little being in pain, you were in obvious distress as you started speaking.

“i feel really really bad, and my stomach hurts, and i’m on the bathroom floor, and i can’t think of anything but the pain and-“

you started rambling, not even thinking before you spoke as you just wanted him to know how bad everything felt like it was going in the span of 5 minutes. he then stops you mid sentence,

“hey, hey, baby. it’s okay, listen to me. do you have any tylenol?”

you barely lift your head up, trying to be a little closer to the speaker of the phone.

“i think so?..”

he sighs a little bit, keeping the gentle tone in his voice.

“okay, sweet girl when you feel like you can get up, go and take that medicine okay? i’m so sorry mi vida, you know i want to be there right now with you.”

you want to keep him from worrying, he’s visiting family right now and you know if you ask he will immediately go and buy a plane ticket to see you.

the next morning you see 7 unread messages from your beloved boyfriend. all of them are him being worried, asking how you are. you go into the facetime app, clicking onto his contact.

the phone could barely go into the first ring before he answers.

“hey my love. how are you feeling?”

you shrug to yourself, you know that your stomach still feels as shitty as it did before. you wanted to be honest, just not as detailed.

“not too good babe, not going to lie. but i do feel better, thank you for suggesting the tylenol last night it helped, i promise.”

he looks at me, like i’m some poor stray puppy on the street.

“you do know i can come there right now? i can get a ticket, you know what let me get my computer i’ll schedule a day-“

you stop him, not wanting your sickness to mess up his plans.

“no. alex your family has been waiting for months to see you, they’ll be so upset even if they don’t show it.. you know that.”

he doesn’t want to admit that you are right, and he definitely wouldn’t want an argument while your already feeling horrible.

“okay, you know what, sure. but is your stomach feeling okay? did you throw up again?”

you turn over to the other side of the bed, as it felt cooler. when you got sick, your body always felt as if it was overheating.

“nu uh. my tummy still hurts, but no throw up.”

he snickers a little bit past the phone.

“tummy?”

“shut up.”

“i’m kiddingggg.”

you scoff a little rolling your eyes. you had a 101 fever, did he really think you were in the mood?

“your not funny.”

he smirks a little, then tries to actually talk to you.

“i’m sorry baby, im sorry. i know you feel bad right now, get some sleep okay? call me when you wake up.”

the day had its regular pattern throughout. you had been binge watching disney movies, as you felt there was literally nothing else to do. alex would call or text checking up, and always would hang up so you could watch your movie.

“hey sweet girl, what movie are we on right now?”

you held onto your pillow, adjusting the heating pad on your stomach.

“uhmmm. i’m currently on the lion king.”

he laughs a little at the tiredness in your voice, it made you sound adorably exhausted.

“wow i haven’t watched that in a while, i remember the.. oh a hakunu matatu?”

“a fucking what?���

you smile a little as a slight giggle escapes your lips. you hadn’t known he knew exactly what the song was called, he just attempted to make you laugh with a shitty joke.

he laughs along with you a little bit, before he talks more sincerely, showing his concern for his beloved girlfriend.

“are you feeling any better amor? everything going okay?”

“yes baby. i’m feeling good as to right now.”

he smiles through the screen, looking directly at you with love.

“good. listen i’m going to be home in a day or two, and ill make everything up.”

that night you felt yourself getting sick once again. your stomach had been your enemy for what seemed to you like forever. it’s as if he has a boyfriend sense, as he called you right as you felt yourself getting sick.

“hi baby! what are we feeling like?”

he asks oh so enthusiastically, which was the polar opposite of how you were at that moment. you sniffle a little.

“i feel..so bad..”

he pouts to hear your raspy little voice so sad and hurt. he immediately speaks up.

“oh my poor sweet girl.. what hurts right now?”

you couldn’t even think of one thing right now, as it felt like knives were coming in at every single direction.

“everything.”

he looks at you with honestly such a sad little look on his face. he tries to talk a little quieter, trying to be as confronting as he knew how to.

“it’s going to be okay my love.. take some more medicine, and we can talk for however long you want to alright? i love you so much, and im so sorry..”

for the next two days, you made sure he knew you were alright, wanting him to calm down as you were the top thing in his mind. the pattern went on until you did actually feel better, and when he came home, he was over the top in showing his love.

[spicyspiders]

can u write a part 2 to ur batman story? i just wanna see them go all the way lol, or at let reader return the favor😉

First part. They don't go all the way, but the reader does return the favor.

You were not but a few steps into your home when you felt a pair of arms snake around your waist. You didn’t jump quite as hard as the first time Batman was in your apartment, but he still managed to startle you. 

You feel the vibration of the man’s chuckle through his suit before the deep rumble of his voice hits your ear, “I thought we were past this,” he says. His lips trace the shell of your ear before his gloved fingers are at the collar of your uniform to pull the fabric from your neck and gain more access to your skin. 

“And I thought I had gotten you a bell,” you respond. 

You turn to face the man and press a soft kiss to his lips. You wanted to get your fingers below his cowl and push the garment off, but you instead settled for running your fingers across the skin you had access to. 

The kiss grew feverish and then you’re stumbling to your bedroom. You soon found yourself pressed against the wood of your door and you let out a grunt at the weight of the other man against you.

On your journey to your bedroom, Batman had pulled your clothing off and left them in a messy trail to your destination. The feel of his suit against your bare skin made you shiver, and your head fell with a soft thunk on the door. 

One of his thighs made its way between yours, making it entirely too easy to find your pleasure by bringing your hips into his thigh. You moaned into the man’s mouth at the friction against your cock, and then his hands were at your hips to bring you together over and over again. 

“Wait,” you said when you pulled away from the kiss. You both went still and panted from the buildup, “don’t I have the favor to return?” One of your hands went between his legs to cup his crotch. Though he probably couldn’t feel anything through the protection he wore over his groin, the man let out a low moan.

“You’ll have to help me with this,” you said, sending a sheepish smile his way. 

Quicker than you would have been able to, Batman had his clothed cock free before hooking his fingers into your underwear to pull them down. 

You didn’t think it was quite fair that you were now fully naked while Batman only had his cock free, but those thoughts all went away at the hot feel of his cock wrapped around your fingers. It was long and thick, thick enough that you almost weren’t able to get a singular hand around the both of you. 

His lips met your once you began a steady pace, his tongue just as wet as the head of his cock against yours. The kiss broke with a gasp, a noise that you couldn’t tell was your own or was Batman’s. 

You felt the cool cowl of Batman’s mask on your neck before it was replaced by the feel of his teeth at your neck. He bit into the overheated skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. The tip of his tongue traced a wet path up your neck before you were pulled into a wet kiss mostly made of tongue. 

It was hard to keep up with the kiss as you felt your edge approaching. You could only hope the moan you let out into his mouth was warning enough before your cock pulsed against his and shot out ropes of cum over your fist. 

Batman let out a similar noise before his mess met yours. The warm wetness coated your fingers, and the abundance of both loads dripped down your fingers. 

You had to bend down quickly and grab your underwear to make sure none dripped down onto the floor. You wiped at your hand quickly before swiping the cloth across your cock. You felt Batman shiver when you ran the garment over his sensitive flesh and you leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his lips as a means to apologize. 

“You didn’t have a wet wipe in that belt of yours?” You asked when you moved past the man to toss the dirty fabric in the hamper you had in a corner of your room. 

You heard a soft chuckle from the man and then the clink of his belt as he tucked himself away and pulled his pants back on, “next time I will bring them,” he promised. 

Next time. You felt your cock twitch at the two words and stepped up to the man slowly. Your lips met his in another soft kiss. Your hands went to his chest, whereas his went to your hips to bring you closer. 

When the kiss was over, the man glanced over at the window and then back to your face. Momentarily, a flash of sadness filled his eyes, but you sent a soft smile his way. 

“Go,” you nodded towards the window, “I also have a door as well,” you said with a smirk.

Batman was out your window quietly, but not before he kissed you until the smirk was off your face.