#and when I do try to eat I end up so nauseous that I throw up

[eddiebuckley-diaz]

I’ll be back on at some point probably next week cause I’m not doing very well currently.

[chamaleonsoul]

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[transmascaraa]

Hi! I've currently been into Ga ming recently since he's released and your works for him are really cute 💗💗 so I was wondering if I can maybe request him, Bennett, tighnari, cyno, and Scaramouche (if you write for them ofc!) with a always nauseous and overheating reader?

I've been going through that for a long while now and it kinda adds onto not really eating all the time because of being afraid to throw up when it happens, sometimes feeling like a burden for having a different body temperature than most and feeling like it's just a problem, not being able to wear clothes I really want to because of how hot I may get, the possibility of passing out whenever and the embarrassment I get from that, ect 😭

I hope your day is well, and that hopefully you have a fun time writing this if you decide to 💗🫶

multiple characters headcannons!

how are they with overheating!reader?

characters: gaming, bennett, tighnari, cyno, wanderer x gn!reader

author's note: i love this idea so much😭 i'm not somebody that's overheating easily, but i still get hot faster than others, it's the main reason i hate summer and love winter👍 but i think i can understand people who suffer from overheating. i once almost passed out a few months ago and it's either that i felt sorry for this one dog, or because of sunstroke. either way, i'm glad to do this request, because i really like it<3

Gaming

-he would be prepared ALL THE TIME. it's true. it's canon, i'm the mole on his neck.

-anyways, he would always have one of your t-shirts in his bag. he learnt how to do cpr and what to do IF you pass you. he reassured you that it was okay. that you having a warmer body temperature wasn't something you should be embarrassed of.

-in his eyes, he found the good in that whole problem.

-winter, you're not all the cold in winter, while he... freezes, despite being pyro.

-he's there with you, always ready for anything, encouraging you to eat.

-he also always has a cold drink in his bag, it might come in handy for you...

-either way, he wouldn't mind it. he just wants to help you. he sees nothing wrong with you.

-but he avoids teasing you that much, what if you get too hot and feel nauseous?

-he doesn't want that. instead, he knows when to stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bennett

-he's clumsy, and everyone knows that. but he does try his best to help. he WANTS to help.

-when you feel nauseous, he starts panicking a bit but tries to keep a more calm composure to not make it even harder for you.

-he knows how to treat you. he's trying his best, please, thank him.

-he asked lisa about how to help a nauseous person, and he listened closely.

-sometimes, he rants to razor about you, but not about your overheating problem, but about how strong you were. how brave you were.

-how he admired you.

-and when with you, he tries to tell you all of those same things, but he ends up blushing too much, and just telling you to "paint it over".

-but at rare times, when he makes you feel hotter by telling you such sweet praises, he apologizes immediately, and tries to cool you down.

-he's trying, he really is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tighnari

-he has everything with him. if gaming had everything you needed, tighnari has 2 times more of them. what if you run out of cold water? what if the first shirt he brought with him was still making you hot? he even has an ice pack with him.

-he's like a mom. anything you need, he has it. he would take great care of you, making sure you're alright.

-if you're nauseous, don't worry! he has the medicide. you're allergic to something? you'll never see it again.

-if you're ever close to passing out, he knows exactly what to do, so you shouldn't worry all that much, because you have him.

-others, and even maybe you, might see him as overprotective, or overreacting, but he just says that "it's for your own good" and carries on with taking your mind off of things by talking to you about aranaras.

-he may be a bit strict, but it really is jsut because he cares for you. he wants the best for you, and hopes that he can be the one to help you get to there.

-i could talk about him for ages but i think you get the point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cyno

-i'm virtually sighing right now. he would care for you, yes, do anything for you, do anything you want him to.

-he'll bring you anything and everything you need.

-he had anything you need with him, but if you run out of anything, he's thinking of a solution to stop that.

-in all seriousness, he'll skip anything and everything for you.

-yes, he does bore you with his horrible jokes no matter what, but if he sees that he's too annoying, he'll stop.

-if you're about to pass out, he's either gonna keep his composure and help you or just...

-call tighnari because he's panicking a bit too much.

-he avoids bringing you to the desert with him, completely, at all costs.

-he wants to to be okay, and reassures you when you have trouble eating.

-he's like a dad, the opposite of tighnari. he may not have anything you need at ALL times, but he always comes up with a solution.

-and he loves choosing outfits for you, and he gets hot easily too, that's why he doesn't wear much clothing himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanderer

-uhhh he's complicated. he'll never show any interest in helping you, but deep down he so fucking worried about you. he would take your body heat if he could. he would splash you with ice-cold water if you wanted to.

-but he'd mask it with saying "weak."

-you know him good enough tho, he cares about you more than anyone else.

-you know he'd sacrifice anything and everything to help you.

-he literally forces you to eat.

-he has everything you need with him, and does his best to help you. if he runs out of something, he'll call nahida.

-nahida plays a huge part in this too, but you don't know.

-he secretly talks to nahida to teach him about overheating more. so he knows how to help. he asks her any question he has, and the almost immediately memorizes it. he needs to know how to help you. so, if you ever almost pass out, he'd just be telling you to shut up while trying to help, but on the inside, it's a mess, really.

-he doesn't want you in pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i actually really like this one

HELP MY LAST MULTI-CHARACTER ONE GOT ALMOST 400 NOTES I'M GOING CRAZY

either way, i hope you like this one, anon! and that you i potrayed overheating good enough😭

[redocity]

kinda emergency request. Okay so I’m super sick right now but I also had a lot to get done this week so I pushed through and ended up collapsing. It was a whole thing and I went to the hospital for a few days. I hadn’t eaten cause I was nauseous or slept because I was in pain. Any way would it be possible to get a Evan Buckley x reader on that. Sorry it’s a lot I know! But thank you!

PUSH THROUGH — E.BUCKLEY

Being sick and being a firefighter were two things that should never exist at the same time. when you push yourself a little too hard and end up collapsing, buck gets more than a little worried.

WARNINGS: gn!reader, sick reader, mentions of nausea and wanting to throw up, reader faints

evan buckley x reader || hurt/comfort || 3.0k || requests open!

a/n: i hope you’re alright and get better soon!

₊ ⊹ masterlist!!

Being a firefighter was hard. It consisted of long and physically taxing workdays, a lot of mental scarring, and most prominently, a lack of regular breaks.

Some days were okay, slow days where you only had three or four calls in a 12 hour shift, but on days like today, where you had spent a grand total on 35 minutes in the station in the last six hours —with the first 20 of those being before your shift even started— being a firefighter felt like you were living through your own personal hell.

“Hey—” Buck nudges you with his elbow, and you blink your eyes shortly before turning your gaze to him with a small hum, breaking yourself out of your dissociation of staring blankly across the lounge room.

“I’ve been calling your name for like a whole minute, are you okay?” Buck’s eyebrows furrow in an obvious concern for your well being, a dark line forming at the top of the bridge of his nose that you fight the urge to smooth out with the pad of your thumb.

You might have an unprofessional friendship with Buck, but even you knew what boundaries were unsafe to cross.

“Mhm, I’m fine,” Your voice is distant even to yourself, like there’s a layer of cotton coating the inside of your ears.

“You’re not though,” Buck presses the back of his hand against your forehead to feel for a temperature, and you swat it away lightly with a small shake of your head, something that does nothing in disproving Buck’s theory. “You’re all quiet and warm, and I can see your hands shaking,”

You clasp your hands together at the last part, interlocking your fingers and holding them securely in your lap so that they can’t move without your consent anymore. “I’m fine,”

He sighs at your continued dismissal. It was obvious that you weren’t okay, so why would you keep trying to pretend like you were? “Have you eaten anything yet? Maybe you should eat something, you know, replenish all of those nutrients or whatever,”

“Okay Dr Buckley, no need to treat me like a five year old,” You roll your eyes with a short laugh, and a small smile etches it’s way onto Buck’s face at the flicker of your usual personality shining through despite your current condition. “I’m not hungry right now—” Buck opens his mouth to argue, but you hold up your hand before he can get a word out. “—But, i’ll see about getting something after our next call okay?”

He lets out a short breath through his nose as he concedes defeat, leaning back against the lounge sofa dramatically. “Fine, but I will make sure of that,”

You hope he doesn’t.

You’d tried to make yourself a piece of dry, bland toast this morning to quell the growing ache in your stomach from how little you’d fed yourself over the last two days, but it ended up with you feeling so sick that you had to take almost ten minutes of your morning doing deep breathing exercises so that you wouldn’t throw it back up again. You didn’t fancy a round two of that.

“Yes sir,” You exaggerate your response through a mock salute, and he gives you a short laugh and a pat of his hand on your lower thigh, squeezing it lightly.

You take the end in the conversation to relax against the back of the sofa, but as soon as the back of your head meets the top of the cushion the alarm rings out and you curse your own downfall.

Buck gives your leg another pat as he stands, holding out his hand for you to take so he can help you to your feet, something which, although you would keep to yourself to stop him from worrying about you even more, you were grateful for in the wake of your staticed vision in the first few second of you standing upright.

—

It wasn’t the worst call in the world, some driver going 10 over the speed limit managed to swerve off the road, over a patch of grass, and land right into somebodies six foot hedge lining their yard. All you had to do was winch the car out and check that the driver didn’t have any injures. It took less than half an hour.

But by the time you climbed back into the truck you felt like you had absolutely no energy left whatsoever, your shoulders slumped and your head limply resting backwards against the headrest in fatigue.

You were just absolutely exhausted, probably not helped by the rough nights you’d been having because of the phantom pains that seemed to plague you whenever you moved so much as an inch.

You considered asking to stay at the station for the next call, or just asking to stay at the station for the rest of your shift entirely at this point. You weren’t sure you’d have the physical capacities to be of any help at all, and if you were to tag along you’d just be a nuisance to everybody else as they tried to do their jobs.

You didn’t have to make that decision yourself, your body made it for you.

Buck had been extra attentive to you on the call, and that didn’t end once the truck parked in the station, he climbed down the truck’s side ladders before you, turning to hold out his hand so you’d have an extra balance point if you needed it whilst climbing down, but instead he was met with your clouded gaze, literally watching the moment your consciousness seems to slip away from your body as your foot misses one of the steps and causes to stumble forward.

He catches your weight him his arms before you can hit the floor, a panicked “Cap!” echoing through the engine bay as he lowers you to lie on the floor with your head resting on his thighs, all colour drained from your face as your eyes flicker underneath your eyelids.

Hen and Chimney are at your side before Bobby is, but he’s not far behind as the rest of the team circle you in concern.

“What happened?” Hen furrows her eyebrows as she watches Chimney check your heart rate, tightening a blood pressure cuff around your arm.

“I don’t know they just collapsed—” Buck’s voice mirrors his expression it’s panic.

“105/70, alright, lay them down on the floor, Eddie, put your jacket underneath their feet,” Hen removes the blood pressure cuff as Buck and Eddie rush to follow her instructions, and her and Chimney share a nod as they both confirm you’re not in any medical danger.

“Are they okay?” Buck hesitates to lie your head on the concrete floor, so his leaves his hand as a barrier between you and the floor.

“They’re fine, it’s just hypotension, do you know if they’ve eaten or drank anything today?” Hen puts a comforting hand on Buck’s shoulder to help calm his panic as the adrenaline from your collapse slowly dissipates.

“I asked if they were hungry earlier and they said they’d eat something later,” Buck presses his lips into a line, feeling mildly guilty about not pushing you to eat something earlier when he had the chance to.

Your head twitches in his hand before he has the time to drill himself into a spiral over it, and soon enough you’re squeezing your eyes shut tighter before flickering them open.

“There you are, welcome back to the land of the living,” Chimney rubs your shoulder with his hand as you wake, and promptly pushes you back to lying flat when you try to sit up. “No, stay there, you’ll only pass out again if you sit up too quickly,”

“What happened?” You squint your eyes under the harsh overhead lights, covering them with the back of your hand.

“You collapsed on the way out of the truck, gave us all a scare there for a moment,” Bobby crosses his arms as he steps into your line of sight, tone carrying reprimand but his expression laced in concern.

“Right… sorry,”

“Don’t apologise,” Bobby shakes his head shortly, “When was the last time you ate?”

“Uh…” You don’t know whether it’s the fact that you’ve just fainted, or the weird angle you’re currently at that’s making you slower than usual. “This morning,”

“It’s almost 4pm—” Buck’s voice announces you of his presence like he hasn’t been protecting your head from the concrete for the last five minutes with his hand, and you crane your head backwards to look up at him.

“I felt sick, I didn’t want to throw up everywhere that’s gross,” You groan slightly as your neck begins to ache. “Can I sit up now?”

“Slowly,” Hen takes your hand as she carefully pulls you to sit upright, and Buck remains on his knees behind you in case you need to lie back down again. “How are you feeling? Still lightheaded?”

“A little,” You rub the knuckle of your thumb over your forehead in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension lingering there, and Hen hums.

“Alright, it’s time for you to eat,” Buck places both of his hands on your shoulders as he stands, squeezing them softly before extending a hand out to help you back onto your feet, which you take without complaint.

“Okay,”

You let Buck lead you up to the open lounge with mild guilt written across your face. Guilt and embarrassment at the fact that you’d passed out in front of everyone.

“Okay, so we’ve got tomato and onion pasta bake, left over macaroni and cheese, uh…” Buck rifles through the fridge for what’s left of different Bobby creations over the last few days. “Ooh there’s lasagna in here, I might have to keep that for myself,”

He knows it’s not the funniest thing he’s ever said, but when he turns back to check on you, the way you’re sat blankly staring at the table doesn’t spell anything good.

“Hey,” Buck abandons his fridge endeavours with a small sigh, walking over to put his hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright? Really?”

You barely so much as acknowledge him, giving him a small hum as you rest your forehead on the palms of your hands. “I think I should go home…”

Your tone causes the worry to flood back into his features. “You have to eat something…”

“I don’t know if I can stomach it right now,” You close your eyes momentarily, slumping forward so your entire upper body weight is resting against your hands. “I still feel sick,”

He can’t really argue with you about that. Nauseousness was a pain in the ass. But that didn’t mean you didn’t need something in your body to help whatever deficit you were going through right now.

He takes a moment to think through his options, biting the inside of his cheek. “Uh… What about a protein shake? I’m pretty sure I left a few packets here somewhere—” Buck leaves your side to look through some of the kitchenette cupboards for protein shake packets he’d stoad hidden from the team.

“Ah,” He makes a sound of triumph as he retrieves them, holding them up above his head as he’s crouched behind the kitchen island so you can see them. “We have…” He turns the packets in his hand one by one. “Chocolate, banana, vanilla, strawberry, and… blueberry, take your pick,”

You give him a look that tells him you’d rather not have any of them, and a worry line forms in his forehead once more. “Come on… It’s like a milkshake, and you can drink it as slow as you want,” He walks back over to you slowly, the packets held out in his hands towards you so you can choose one. “Please? You’re starting to worry me for real now,”

You begrudgingly take one of the packets from his hands with a small sigh. His concern was appreciated, but it was also mildly daunting. You didn’t like the way his face furrowed when he was concerned about you, it didn’t suit him like smiling did.

“Thank you,” He takes the packet back from you once you’ve chosen which one you want, leaving the others discarded on the table as he prepares the drink for you. “Drink this and then go home and get some rest okay? I’ll drop by your apartment after the shift is over to check on you, and if you still feel really bad then we should go to the hospital,” His words are spoken unevenly as the exertion from shaking the drink canister reaches his vocal chords.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital Buck, I’m fine, i’ve just got the flu or something and pushed myself too hard,” You shake your head adamantly at his suggestion, and he mirrors it himself as he pours the drink into a glass and puts it on the table in front of you.

“Some people go to the hospital when they’ve got the flu and don’t push themselves too hard,” He points at the glass once it’s on the table. “Drink it,”

You oblige with a roll of your eyes, your first sip barely even considered one as you try and force yourself to swallow it through the invisible blockade in your throat.

“And maybe try and take a nap or something? You look exhausted,”

“Oh thanks, that makes me feel so much better,” a your voice is dripping with sarcasm, and it leaves a small smile on Buck’s face.

“You know what I mean,” He shakes his head lightly as he stashes away the remaining protein shake packets. “How much sleep did you get last night anyway?”

He asks you the question right as you go to take another sip of the shake, and you force yourself to swallow it uncomfortably to answer him. “Maybe like three hours? I had a really bad migraine and my lower back was hurting,”

Buck sighs loudly as he pulls out a chair to sit behind you, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it,”

“I know I know, that’s not good, i’ll work on it okay?”

“That’s all I can ask,” He gives you a small smile with a shrug of his shoulders.

—

You didn’t have to think about complying to Buck’s suggestion of going home, and after a long hour of trying to digest the protein shake in front of you, that’s exactly what you did.

The station felt remarkably quieter without you there, but that was arguably because everyone was still shrouded in a combined worry for your well being that left them more solemn than usual, their usual banter getting lost in the process.

Once the shift was over, Buck kept his word in heading straight to your apartment, knocking the door with no answer.

He questions whether he got the number right at first, but he’s been to your apartment enough times to know that he hasn’t just stumbled to the wrong door. And the longer it stays shut in his face the more worried he gets.

So he tries the door handle, and it opens, meaning you’d left your apartment unlocked.

He calls your name a few times as he walks in, a small rush of adrenaline making its way through his veins at the slight possibility that something could’ve happened in the few hours since you’d been home alone.

A small breath of relief escapes him as he finds you.

You were circled up into yourself on your couch, TV left on standby as you slept in what Buck assumed to be an extremely deep sleep.

How you manage to make that tiny sofa look like the most comfortable place in the world he doesn’t know, but you seem to be more than happy wedged into the corner with a decorative pillow clutched tightly against your chest.

It’s a welcome sight after everything you’d been through today, and Buck rifles around to find a blanket to throw over you before taking a seat on the other end of the couch and settling in for an evening of watching random movies on your TV until you woke up.

Even if that meant him staying overnight.

[the-duchess-of-domination]

the sickfic to end all sickfics

i will never get tired of a boy going to bed feeling funny and waking up in the middle of the night feverish and horrifically sick.

he tries to brush off his sour stomach and tiredness and lack of appetite. after all, he’s been working long hours and eating the wrong things. a good night’s sleep is all he needs. he hardly touches his dinner and is in bed by 7:30.

he falls asleep quickly next to you, but his temperature rises and leaves him with feverish, confused dreams. you’re awoken by him mumbling deliriously, and when you ask him what’s the matter he starts muttering incoherent sentences that don’t seem to connect or conclude. you switch on a bedside lamp, and examine the pallor of his sweat-slicked face while using your palm to feel his forehead. he’s absolutely burning hot. his eyes, heavylidded, flutter.

“i don’t feel good” he manages to tell you through dry lips. his breaths come shallow and out of his mouth. you feel so sorry for him but can’t help but find him irresistible in such a weak state. you ask him where he isn’t feeling good, brushing back his bangs.

“stomach” is all he says. you probe further and ask him what kind of stomach ache it is, and with a heavy swallow he says “nauseous” and that “everything is spinning.” you lie there with him until his saliva is too much for his own mouth, and you have to help him to the bathroom. you stay by his side until he thinks he’s done.

the next morning doesn’t fare much better. he got sick a couple more times in the night, and is still running a fever. he mumbles incoherent thoughts about having to call into work sick, so worried about having to take a sick day, about how much he’ll be missing at work. he tosses layers of blankets to the floor and removes his pajamas, complaining about how hot it is. within fifteen minutes he is shivering and you have to help him put his pajamas back on.

he goes a couple hours without throwing up, and you suggest crackers. he manages to keep those down, and before long he agrees to a can of chicken soup. when you come to place the tray over his lap, he is lying there staring off into space looking so miserable and pale. you hope the soup will give a little color to his face.

he slurps the soup down to its bottom. you’re glad to see him eating, and after he’s done you take the bowl to wash. as you’re doing the dishes, you hear him coughing. you think he might be trying to clear his throat.

you hear him start to retch.

you leave the sink and come back into the bedroom. his head is hung over a trash can. he looks up.

“im sorry,” he mutters. “im so sorry. i didn’t mean to.”

this sight absolutely breaks your heart. in this woozy state he feels the need to apologize, worried about upsetting or offending you for throwing up the soup you made. you rub circles on his back and hush him as he apologizes again and again and again. after he’s done you tuck him back up, kissing his burning forehead. you sit at his bedside to play with his hair and make him sleepy. he goes in and out of sleep, and senses when you’re not there. when he wakes he weakly cries out for you, begging for you to make it all better. all you can do is pet his hair and shush him, hoping it’ll all be over soon.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Can you do a angst about Kylian maybe he cheated on his wife when she is pregnant (or not) and then she leaves him, but after she forgives him after so many attempts of trying get back to her, with a happy ending

changed it a bit because i hate cheating so no happy ending for this one :))

kylian mbappè x reader

tw : cheating, a lot of angst sorry

5 years

you were six months pregnant and you and kylian were thrilled about the arrival of your first baby. you’ve been wanting a family for so long and when you started trying for a baby if felt like the universe wasn’t on your side.

now, two years later, you were finally pregnant and full of joy. everyone around you kept telling you how full of life you were, you were glowing and people noticed it.

the first few months were hell. you couldn’t keep food down, even the smell of morning breakfast made you nauseous and frustrated. kylian did everything he could to help you. he would hold your hair if you needed to throw up, he would cuddle you afterwards and helped you stay hydrated.

around the third month your belly started to show, you started to feel the baby growing. kylian talked every night to your growing belly, he couldn’t wait to meet them.

fourth and fifth months were easier. you still felt nauseous and your whole body began to hurt, your back was hurting, your feet, your growing boobs, your hands, sometimes even your nose. but to you, everything was worth it.

now you just entered your sixth month and because of pregnancy, hormones and summer you couldn’t stop sweating. you were always a complete mess. not even cold showers and ac could help you.

kylian knew how much uncomfortable you were and he decided to make you relax with a little vacation in miami. not the coldest place on earth, it was completely the opposite but your hotel had a spa, indoor pool and a perfect way to the beach. it was everything you could ask for.

the week passed and you were so grateful that kylian made you forget about all of your problems. he was invited to some party in the hamptons, almost like he was part of the elite and of course he wanted to go. he asked you to join him but honestly you couldn’t wait to go home and lay in bed all week. your body started to hurt again and you needed some rest. of course kylian understood your point of view so he went to the hamptons while you went straight back home.

you called him when you landed back in paris and he texted you right before the party. everything was normal, until it wasn’t.

you woke up the day after, it probably was still night in america so you waited to call kylian. due to your growing belly you couldn’t find any comfortable position in bed so you woke up pretty early and laid on the couch watching some tv.

when it was around 9 am you got tired, you went from watching the news to watching friends to watching crime shows. the only person you needed was kylian but at the moment he was on the other side of the world partying and probably getting drunk.

you ignored your phone all morning so you were surprised when you saw that your best friend called you 10 times.

it was lunch time and you were starting to eat when you decided to open your phone. it was blowing.

14 missed calls from kylian.

10 missed calls from your best friend.

4 missed calls from kylian’s brother ethan.

you saw people kept mentioning you on twitter and instagram so curiosity got the best of you and went straight to the socials.

you wish you didn’t do it.

leaked pictures of kylian kissing another woman. his hands all over her body. on her ass too. a video of kylian and this random girl hidden in the corner making out.

you felt like throwing up but this time wasn’t because of the pregnancy.

people started messaging you, saying how sorry they were for you, that you and the baby didn’t deserve it.

the baby.

he cheated on you, his soon-to-be wife, while you were carrying his baby.

he decided to throw away five years for what?

right when your mind was spinning and full of thoughts that kylian’s name appeared once again on your phone. he was calling you again. this time you answered, you knew you had to confront him once he got back home.

“oh thank god you answered…” he said from the other side of the phone.

“do you need something?” you asked, your voice emotionless. he knew you saw the pictures. and the video.

“listen, i’m coming back home right now, i’m at the airport…i’m so sorry, you have no idea…i’m so ashamed” he confessed. you knew he was crying but you couldn’t care less.

you turned your phone off without answering him. you knew you had like 6 or 7 hours before he got back home, so, with the help of your best friend, you started packing everything, from your clothes to the make up and books.

the moment you saw how empty his room looked without your things you broke down crying. you started realising that the man you loved for all these years really cheated on you.

you broke down once again, this time when you were in the nursery because having a family and growing this kid with love was all you wished for.

your best friend comforted you and helped you packing. while you were at home waiting for kylian, she got all of your stuff back to your old apartment. it wasn’t as nice as kylian’s, but it was big enough for you to be growing your baby.

sat on the sofa and watching the eiffel tower shining, you heard the front door opening and what you saw was a very broken and suffering kylian.

good.

he needed so suffer.

“baby…i…” he started talking but you stopped him.

“y/n…not baby, my name’s y/n”

“i’m so sorry mon amour, i - i don’t know what happened…” he started explaining and you let him, you already knew that no matter what he said you were not going to forgive him “i guess i was just drunk and caught up in the moment…i know it’s not an excuse but i really have none…i’m so so sorry for doing this to you, you didn’t deserve it…”

“we didn’t deserve it…” you said laying a hand on your belly “i don’t give a fuck if you were drunk or not, you cheated on me! kylian this is unforgivable, don’t give a shit if you’re the father of my baby…i don’t wanna see you or hear you ever again” you said standing up from the couch.

“what-you can’t be serious…no, no i can’t lose you y/n, you’re everything for me, you and the baby…i love you both so much…”

“i’m deadass serious mbappè” you tried to keep a serious tone but you broke down when you started seeing that woman around kylian’s body in your mind “i’ve loved you for all of these years kylian, i still love you but right now i can’t even stay in the same room as you…you make me sick, in less than three months our baby will be here and - and i can’t even stand to see your face” you cried “i gave you everything! kylian, how could you do this to me? to us?”

“i know i have no excuses…i’m just so sorry, i can’t even say how much sorry i am…”

“i don’t care how sorry you are” you sobbed “i really don’t…you just broke everything we had, this, our family…”

“don’t say this please…” kylian walked towards you but you stopped him. he wanted to punch himself, he wanted to scream and cry, he wanted to hold you and wipe your tears away but he knew he fucked up really bad.

“i already packed my things…i won’t be living here, i can’t even stand to see your face right now…”

“no, you can’t leave me y/n please…i love you so much, i fucked up i know but i’ll work for your forgiveness, i’ll make it up to you” he cried. he knew it was over. he lost.

“i really don’t care…” you said. exhausted.

“don’t do this please…don’t break our family apart”

“you did it kylian the moment you kissed that girl, and i know that it wasn’t only a kiss, i know you fucked her, the look you had in the video…i know that look pretty good…you’re the one to blame…you’ll be hearing from my lawyer” you said before leaving his apartment.

kylian broke you in so many ways you couldn’t even explain but your baby deserved to have a father, you just didn’t want to be a part of it.

his mom and his family helped you during the last months of pregnancy, he tried to call you so many times that you had to block him.

you didn’t want him inside the room when you were giving birth. your mom was there, his mom was there too and that was all the support you needed.

you began to think about how it would have been if he never cheated on you, how your baby would have two beautiful parents that loved each others but now your child was stuck with two parents who kept fighting and couldn’t see each others.

all because kylian couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

part 2

[doc-pickles]

waking up in vegas | matthew tkachuk x hughes!sister (pt. 4)

series masterlist

summary: Quinn brings you a surprise visitor

warnings: throwing up

a/n: another one. I have an IG post planned next! what do yall think it is? 👀 anyways enjoy!

xoxo nina

Your head is swimming as you lean against the cool tile of the bathroom floor, letting the sensation calm you slightly. The past few hours have been a nonstop struggle to keep anything in your body for more than ten minutes.

To say that your morning sickness was bad would be an understatement. You'd lost weight from your inability to eat and were absolutely exhausted most days. As you try and ground yourself you hear the front door of your apartment unlock and Quinn calls out for you.

“I brought some soup and more crackers,” Quinn says and you can hear him puttering around. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you groan from your spot on the bathroom floor. “I’ve been throwing up for two hours but besides that I’m swell.”

You’ve lived in Vancouver for almost a year now, moving after graduation for a job offer you couldn’t refuse. Quinn lives about ten minutes away which has been especially nice the past few weeks. He’s made it a habit to stop by regularly and check on you, making sure you’re eating and taking care of yourself.

“I brought something I grabbed at the rink too,” Quinn peaks his head into the bathroom and frowns. “You look awful. When was the last time you ate?”

Frustrated tears begin to well in your eyes as you look up at your oldest brother, “I can’t keep any food down, Quinn. I’ve been trying all day and it all just comes back up. I’m hungry and nauseous and exhausted and everything hurts.”

By the end of your rant, you're full-on sobbing on the floor of the bathroom, Quinn staring at you with wide eyes before he turns back to the living room, “This one’s all you, dude.”

You look up in confusion but quickly burst into more tears when Matthew appears in the doorway. Unlike Quinn, he wastes no time kneeling down and bringing you into his arms, “Hey it’s okay. I got you.”

“I’m all gross and sweaty and I’m sure there’s throw up on me somewhere,” you sniffle as you attempt to push Matthew off of you, but he simply holds you closer. “Matty-“

“Can I just hold you for a minute?” he asks as he fully pulls you into his lap. His hands rub soothing circles on your back and you take a slow steady breath as your cries grow quieter.

Your relationship with Matthew was… Interesting to say the least. You’d barely gotten a chance to talk on Thanksgiving, just outlining the basics like when you were due and what your next steps were. Even that seemed small compared to the growing to-do list in your mind.

To your surprise though Matthew had Facetimed you every night he didn’t have a game going. And when he was playing he’d send a text before and after, asking if you were watching or telling you about how the game went.

“You know,” you’d broached the subject a few weeks into your Facetime ritual. “Just because I’m having your baby and we’re… Married… Doesn’t mean you can’t date. Or whatever.”

You knew Matthew had a bit of a reputation and you wanted to make sure he knew you weren’t standing in the way of that. But he just chuckled as he smiled through the screen at you.

“I’m not looking for anything or anyone else. That’s not fair to you or to Baby T,” Matthew ran a hand through his hair before looking back to you. “Now tell me about your day.”

And the conversation had moved on, just like that. Neither you nor Matthew brought it up again.

“So,” Matthew’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you looked up at him with watery eyes. “How about lunch? And if you can’t keep it down I’ll hold your hair back.”

You agree, brushing your teeth before finding Matthew in your kitchen heating up some of the soup Quinn had brought. The Panthers are set to play the Canucks tonight but you hadn’t thought that Matthew would come to see you.

“Thanks for stopping by, I’ve been so sick lately that Quinn has been keeping me alive basically,” Matthew watches as you sit down at your breakfast nook and eat a few of the saltines Quinn had brought over. “I feel bad, I know he’s probably got a million other things to do that don’t include practically babysitting me.”

“Move to Florida.”

You pause, cracker halfway to your mouth as you stare at Matthew, “What?”

Matthew groans and settles his forehead against your kitchen cabinet, “That’s not how I wanted that to come out. I’ve just been thinking about it for a few weeks.” Matthew looks over at you, meeting your eyes. “I’ve been so fucking worried about you and there’s not much I can do to help when you’re 3,000 miles away and in a different time zone. Trust me I’d move here in a heartbeat if I could but I figured that maybe… I don’t know. Forget I said anything.”

Matthew busies himself heating up your soup but you can’t help the tears that instantly well up in your eyes. Of course, you’d known him most of your life but the soft and sweet side that Matthew had shown you over the past few months was someone you didn’t recognize in the best way.

“Matty,” at the sound of your tears Matthew whips back around and takes a few steps back toward you.

“I’m sorry, seriously forget that I ever-”

“I want to move to Florida,” you whisper as Matthew wipes at your cheeks. “I’ll be closer to my parents and to Jack and Luke too and… And you. God, why am I fucking crying? All I do is throw up or cry and I hate it.”

Matthew chuckles as he pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he holds you gently, “S’okay, I don’t mind the crying. I’m just glad you won’t be so far away and that I can take care of you two.”

A small ‘thank you’ is all you can force out before you start crying again, Matthew squeezing you close as you let your tears fall. You sniffle a little before you pull back and meet his gaze, pointedly ignoring the loving look he’s giving you, “Can we get cheeseburgers?”

“I thought you weren’t hungry,” Matthew chuckles as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I wasn’t but the baby really wants a cheeseburger,” you mutter, grinning widely when Matthew breaks out into loud peals of laughter. “Hey don’t laugh at them!”

“I’m not, promise,” Matthew’s laughter dies down as his hand settles on your hip, rubbing circles into the skin. His fingers brush the side of your bump and you take his hand to move it full onto the small swell of your stomach.

“Bump kind of popped out this week,” you smirk at Matthew’s bewildered expression, his eyes trailing down to where his hand rested. “That’s our baby.”

When Matthew looks back up at you, you freeze. His expression is full of… Something. You don’t want to say love but it’s the closest thing you can think of.

The microwave chirps behind you and whatever moment you and Matthew were lost in is gone. He moves to put the soup back into the fridge before grabbing his wallet off the counter.

“Okay, cheeseburgers for baby mama,” Matthew looks at you with his signature grin. “Where to?”

“McDonald’s,” you say as you grab your sweatshirt off the couch. “And don’t call me baby mama.”

“I could call you wifey.”

“Baby mama is fine.”

[alovesreading]

Nice Kind Of Messy

Summary: Your friends set you up on a blind date, one that you aren't really looking forward to at all but when you find George Daniel there waiting outside the restaurant, there is no doubt it'll be a date to remember.

Word Count: 16.7k 

Warnings: smut.

A/N: So I wrote this as part of my Alex series but I figured I should turn it into a one shot so my George girlies could read it without having to commit to a long Alex Turner fic lol It took me a while to get it ready on one shot form but I hope you enjoy now that it's here hehehe xx

Masterlist

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You wake up that morning quite nervous. Your excitement makes you shiver in anticipation but the feeling brushes the line of anxiety and it’s rather overwhelming.

You’ve not been really looking to date lately, there hasn’t been any type of enthusiasm when hinted about putting yourself out there again since you got cheated on by your ex boyfriend. You couldn’t be arsed about it—the whole process of actively trying to look for a person that you felt was right and suited what you at least felt was the bare minimum was exhausting just to think about.

Going out with your friends was almost always a failed mission. They tried to get you out on the pull with them but you ended up straying back to the table and waving them goodbye when they came back with someone hanging from their arm, winking at them as if to wish them a good night.

They had only been lucky to send you off with someone a handful of times, but despite their best efforts to push you to pursue those who you had spent a night with, you had left them as that: a one night stand.

So they had used a new method this time, which entailed the fact that they had apparently been scheming about behind your back for a few weeks. You had only found out when you were having a wine night with them over at your flat, your jaw dropping and brows furrowing when they let you know they had made a reservation at a certain restaurant in Covent Garden so that you could meet up with someone they swore was the perfect match for you.

“It’s a blind date, we can’t tell you,” said one of your friends with a wicked grin on her face, sipping on her wine as you took the time to glare at your other two friends sitting on your settee.

They only offered you gallic shrugs and giggles, bubbly and high pitched which unfortunately managed to tug at the corners of your lips until they formed a smile.

A happy, “You’re excited then?” made you realize what you were doing, so you took a gulp of your wine and shook your head in disagreement as you swallowed.

“No, I’m just confused.” You really were, it was worse you didn’t have a clue who it could be because there wasn’t really anyone you think had shown interest towards you that you all knew. “Am I allowed to back out?”

You hoped you could, even if a meal at a restaurant you had been dying to go to for ages paid by one of them was on the cards here, but you were truly wary about throwing yourself into a situation where you actually had to put yourself in the dating mindset.

As you cursed your stupid cheating scum of an ex for ruining the prospect of dating for you, your friends shook their heads and said, “No.” in unison.

And they unfortunately went on to explain how your date knew about it already and had cleared their schedule for it to happen, and since you were an awful people pleaser, you sighed in defeat and agreed to go.

So there you are, slowly making your way to your kitchen to make yourself breakfast, despite the nerves making your stomach flip constantly and making you nauseous. Slowly you eat, slowly you wash your dishes and put them away.

You do everything slowly that day, taking a long shower and lounging in bed, still in your robe and letting your hair air dry. The date wasn’t until four so you still had time, and you figured if you went about it at a steady pace, then by the time you were fully ready you would have to leave and there wouldn’t really be a long space of time for you to bail out at the last minute.

By the time it hits noon, you’re doing your hair. Straightening it and curling the ends leisurely, humming along the music you’re playing on your speakers which is interrupted by a call.

“Good afternoon Miss Y/L/N, are you ready for today?” One of your friends greets you with a chipper tone in her voice, you could practically see the beaming smile on her face just from her voice.

Biting on your bottom lip, you let the phone rest on your lap as you continue with the next section of hair and shyly admit, “I’m actually nervous…”

The way she coos at you makes you roll your eyes but there’s a wave of consolation that comes over you when she says, “Good but also don’t be. He’s an absolute dream.”

The tiny piece of information actually makes you more curious about who he is, so you try your chances again as you ask, “Are you finally gonna tell me who it is?”

You had been trying all week to get anything out of your friends but they had been surprisingly good at keeping this one secret under a lock. And this time wouldn’t be different since you only get a vague, “All you have to know is that he’s fit and I know you’ll get on with him perfectly well.”

At least the reassurance that you and him would get on well eases your nerves a little. Not as much as you would like though, but that’s because you know yourself and when you first meet anyone, you get shy and a bit awkward, so you’re praying that you'll be able to get a bit of courage not to make a fool out of yourself.

Thankfully your friend stays on the phone with you as you finish doing your hair and you actually facetime her when you’re doing your makeup. She keeps making you laugh throughout it all and somehow makes you forget about how tense you had been for a bit.

Her boyfriend, Matty, comes back to her flat from a meeting right as you’re showing your friend the dress you’re wearing for the date and, to her dismay, he almost slips and tells you who it is that you’re seeing in merely an hour from now.

“Matthew!” She exclaims loudly before the name can fall from his lips and he quickly throws his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.

His honest, “I’m so sorry.” sounds muffled behind his hand and it only gets an eye roll from your friend which makes you laugh.

But you are gutted that your only chance to find out is gone that way. You whine as you complain, “Why do you react so quickly?”

Your friend takes her boyfriend’s close mishap as a sign to let you go though, completely ignoring your complaint to remind you, “You’re gonna have to get faster Miss, it’s quarter past three and it’s a twenty five minute walk over there.”

“Shit, right.” You curse under your breath, realizing you need to get dressed already and leave as soon as you can so you aren't late.

“You look fucking stunning, babe.” She states with confidence, reassuring you since you seem to start growing panicky, “I’m gonna leave you now so you can change but you have the best time Y/N/N, alright?”

You purse your lips at the camera and clutch your chest, “Thanks hun, love you.”

She grins sweetly at you and reciprocates, “Love you too. And let me know how it goes, alright?”

“Will do, but I don’t promise anything too interesting.” You make sure to make that point clear, you don’t have much expectations for the date just so you don’t end up feeling defeated for it not meeting whatever you could imagine it to be if you allowed yourself to.

But your friend is in heavy doubt of it not being interesting considering she knows who you are meeting with. So she shrugs as she smirks, “Yeah, well… We shall see about that.”

It’s the way that she looks like she’s trying not to laugh that has you narrowing your eyes at her, “What?”

Question that isn’t answered because she plays dumb and simply says, “Okay byeee! Love you!” loudly, blowing you a kiss before hanging up the phone.

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You walk the best you can in your high heeled boots which were not a great pick when mixed with how nervous you are and how far you had to walk. You had debated getting a taxi when you were locking up your flat but decided against it when you realized that if you did, you’d get there quicker and you wanted to stall as much as you could.

You aren’t even late yet, ten minutes left for the clocks to strike four in the afternoon and you are merely five minutes away. The whole walk, you had been practicing in your head whatever you could say to the guy you were meeting with, just to prevent embarrassing yourself. If anything went wrong though, you had brought your camera with you and a few rolls were stuffed in your pocket so that you could at least take the opportunity to take pictures.

In your head, you had gone from any topics you could come up with about yourself, deciding against being the one to mention your tragic love life and picking a few questions that could be interesting to ask your date.

But all the inquiries and words you had been rehearsing die in your throat when you round the corner at the end of the restaurant’s street and you see the tall dirty blonde smoking a cigarette, leaning on a lamppost right by the entrance of the establishment.

You think of making a run back to your building, hesitating which way would be easiest to go and how it would work with your long dress but his eyes fall on you before you can make up your mind and when he smiles sweetly at you, cigarette perched between his lips, you know it’s too late.

On your face a shy smile breaks and you give him a little wave before approaching him, faking confidence as you get closer until he’s only a few feet away so you say, “Oh hi, I wasn’t expecting you.”

Your face is burning up and you know he can see your flustered demeanor because he smirks down at you, and cheekily asks, “Were you hoping for someone else?”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you smile harder at his playfulness and in a rush of bravery you choose to play along, “Do you really want to know the answer?”

He takes a drag of his cigarette and lets the smoke out steadily as he shakes his head, “I’m just hoping you remember my name.”

And how could you forget, “Of course I remember you, George.”

George hums, taking one last drag of his smoke as he takes in your appearance and he’s grinning mischievously when seeing the dark satin and lace of your dress contrasting on your skin, your leather jacket making you look even more stunning and coincidentally matching the one he’s wearing.

“Glad you haven’t, Y/N.” The drummer replies with a wink, dropping the bud on the ground and stepping on it before taking something out of the pocket of his dark jeans, “Y/F/N sent this for you.”

An involuntary “Oh.” falls from your lips, entirely intrigued by what it can be that your friend had wanted to tell you that couldn’t be said on the phone because George hands you a folded piece of paper that only says Y/N/N x on the front.

You carefully open it, trying your best to avoid George seeing it—which is a bit of an issue since he’s so tall he can easily read if he looks down—and you instantly blush harder when you read Get the nice kind of messy ;) x

A flashback of the moment at Glastonbury when you had been gawking at George and you had let slip how fit you found him comes to the forefront of your mind and you can’t help yourself getting a little flustered at the mere thought of it.

“He’s fit as fuck.” Your eyes are unable to move from his figure, the way his muscles contract and define with every hit of the drums and the facial expressions he makes as he plays.

Your friend snorts in laughter and leans in to ask further, “Oh, so you fancy George then?”

You stutter as you try to come up with a response, “I mean… Look at him!” You’re entirely entranced by it all and it doesn’t help that he’s covered in a thin coat of sweat already, only three songs into their set, so his white top is slowly becoming translucent and sticking to his body.

It’s like your brain is shutting down and all that it can register is the look of the drummer because it takes you a few long seconds to realize your friend has teasingly said, “I’ll make sure to relay that message.”

“Oh, no, don’t.” The panic of that happening is the one thing that helps you snap out of your trance.

You watch as your friend’s face contorts in confusion and she fights your answer, “Why?! You need to get back out there and who better than George?”

But you shake your head, “No, that’d be so messy!” You can’t think of anything worse than trying to get with your friend’s boyfriend’s best friend—you cringe just imagining how that going wrong would cause a horrendous change in the group’s dynamic.

All of your worries come to a halt and you choke on your own spit when your friend smirks as her eyes fall on George, “That’d be messy, alright. The nice kind of messy.”

In an attempt to try and play it cool, you fold the note and shove it in one of the pockets of your leather jacket, clearing your throat, adjusting the strap of your camera on your shoulder and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like it’s all fine and normal.

But George can see the way you’re pursing your lips and how you hid the note so hastily so your behavior completely betrays your attempts to be secretive about it. “What did you say?” He kept his promise that he wouldn’t open the note when Matty gave it to him earlier that day, even though he’s been really tempted too, especially when he realized Matty knew what it said because he was giggling when his girlfriend handed it to him.

You don’t give him an answer though, only a little cough that acts as a coverup of you avoiding his gaze and a subtle shrug, “Just a little joke.”

“Can you share?” He tries further, his hand coming to nudge you softly in the arm.

Not even that helps your answer change. You shake your head and say a shy, “Not really.”

“I see how it is.” George narrows his eyes at you and adds, “S’alright, I’ll remember that.” which is a promise that has you biting your tongue.

“Shall we go inside?” The drummer says then, watching you struggling to come up with a response to his previous statement.

The new question is much easier to reply to, a soft “Yes.” falling from your lips, breathlessly.

And he takes your breath even more when he lets you walk ahead, only to rest his hand on your lower back delicately and casually comment, “You look beautiful by the way. Really like that we’re matching with the leather jackets.”

The opportunity to not acknowledge the compliment is perfect because you feel like you’re going to explode under George’s attention. You giggle and nod, “What a great coincidence huh?”

His answer being, “Hot coincidence.” accompanied by a wink doesn’t make it easy for you though and you find out then that being on a date with George Daniel means blushing every five minutes even if the chat is about mundane topics.

You talk about your hometowns and the differences between your upbringings, how different it was that you’d stayed in the same city for your entire life while he lived moving around for a good part of his childhood until his family settled in Manchester. You tell each other how you had ended up doing what you were doing currently and you end up cooing constantly when George tells you how the guys became friends and how the band had come together. You exchange stories about your jobs, finally having the opportunity to ask all that came to your mind about producing music which you had always found fascinating ever since you’d gotten closer to the band. George being fascinated about your knowledge on films and everything to do with photography and cinematography, which really comes with your job as a photographer and videographer.

Then he asks about your hand tattoo—the ‘Pure Desire’ written on the back of your hand is rather enticing—smirking when he rubs his thumb over it and asks if you have any more which ends up in you both sharing the amount of ink you have on your bodies which George beat you to by an incredible amount. You end up taking your jackets off and showing each other each piece you have on your skin.

Eventually, the chat comes back to the band and you ask him whereabouts The 1975 has toured so far. Your jaw drops the more his list continues and you genuinely have a hard time wrapping your head around them being relatively new to the mainstream scene when they are already going to all those places.

“I don’t even remember the last time I went on holiday, fucking hell.” You chuckle out in awe at the information he’s just given you.

And George turns your innocent amusement into a mess of heated cheeks, pressed lips and eye rolls when he suggests how that could be easily fixed, “We just have to take you on tour with us next time, don’t we?”

“Think it’ll be crowded enough now that Matty is taking Y/F/N with him.” Your eyebrows are raised to accentuate how serious you are trying to be about it, it’s so hard to conceal how flustered you are at his insinuation.

But he makes it difficult for you to play it cool when he shrugs, “We can share a bunk then.”

“You’re such a flirt. Bet you say that to all the girls.” It almost sounds like you’re scolding him and he likes seeing the reactions he can get out of you, but there’s one thing that has been constant in the back of his mind and he decides to bring it up.

Taking his glass up to his lips, he takes a sip and gulps softly to start saying, “Surprised me when Y/F/N called me and asked if I wanted to go on a date with you.”

“God, that’s embarrassing.” You wince at the information, hating the way it looks for your friends to be asking people around if they want to go out with you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and die in a ditch.

George smirks playfully, “Going on a date with me?”

You laugh in response to that, shaking your head before clearing up, “Y/F/N asking if you wanted to go out with me. You know you could’ve said no.”

He frowns at you, like you’ve just said the most outrageous thing and he wholeheartedly asks, “But why would I?”

“Oh George, stop it.” You warn him, pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes at him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” George reaches his hand out to touch yours and you almost shiver under it.

You let your fork down beside your plate and fan yourself with your hand as you admit, “You’re making me blush.”

But that’s not something that will keep him quiet, because he confesses, “Yeah and I quite enjoy doing it.”

The rest of the date is spent between good food, good wine, laughter, a picture you take of George when he asks about your camera, and chatter that has been really entertaining and entirely not awkward like you’d been expecting. Getting to know George in a deeper way is like a breath of fresh air and that’s why, when you leave the restaurant and the drummer offers to walk you back home, you don’t even hesitate to accept.

He takes a few detours on the way, taking you around places where he had hilarious and very wholesome stories of his childhood and teenage years when he would come around to London with the lads and other friends just to mess about. You’re so grateful for the anecdotes because you’re making sure to capture each place in its unique beauty and you know now that behind each shot you’d have the memory of what George had shared with you.

George watches you closely every time you take a picture, taking in every little thing you do before and after you press the shutter. You’re so adorable to him, the way your face lights up when you press the shutter and look at him excitedly when you roll the film.

You guide the both of you back to the way to your flat and as you walk, you’re smoking cigarettes and chatting. It’s so easy to carry a conversation with George, he exudes such an energy that just makes you feel free talking about whatever comes to your mind without having to think for a split second about what you should say or shouldn’t.

And just as easy comes laughter, because not only is his laugh hilariously contagious, he is funny himself and he has you struggling to catch your breath multiple times at his quips and comments.

There is something about this evening that you just feel the need to remember as best as you can so he catches you sneakily trying to take candids of him, every time he’s called you out on it and you shamelessly lie about the frame being focused on just what was behind him—every time something mundane and boring—but by the fifth time, instead of calling you out and have you grumpily change the focus of your lenses, he allows you to take a picture of him and even smiles for you; he doesn’t miss how your eyes twinkle after you’ve pressed the shutter.

The way you smile to yourself and proudly state, “I’m really gonna like that one.” makes George’s chest swell and in a lack of any more self control, he stops dead in his tracks and turns to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you into him, your chest hitting his chest eliciting a gasp to fall from your lips.

“Oh hi.” You giggle at the sudden action, your hands subconsciously resting on his chest after that, but any other words die in your throat when he dips his head and traps your lips with his.

You hum into the kiss, which is a dizzying combination between sweet and determined. His left arm stays wrapped around your waist, pulling your flush into his chest but the other one comes up to cup your jaw and he keeps you at the perfect angle for him to kiss you just how he wants.

Your arms slowly move up until they are wrapped around the back of his neck and you let your fingers tangle in his hair. It’s soft and long on the top of his head which you really like. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, his fingers clutching your tighter and you let your mouth open so you can taste each other.

You completely forget where you are until someone walks past you and whistles at the two of you, startling you out of the kiss. You really enjoyed that kiss, and it shows in the way you look up at George with burning cheeks and something written on your face.

“I liked that.” George cheekily states, getting ahold of your hand and resuming your walk.

You hum, trying not to giggle when he intertwines your fingers and a feeling you can easily recognize starts bubbling inside you. “Yeah, I liked that too.”

You felt like a teenager. Blushing to yourself while you walked hand in hand with the person you had a crush on, and it’s so ridiculous but so relieving at the same time to feel this kind of pathetic elation instead of despair and heartache for once.

Your conversation resumed from whichever point you last remember it being left at but after that kiss it only gets more and more flirty, and you like where it is going but soon enough you reach your building and you have to slowly come to a stop with a pout.

“This is me.” You mumble, squeezing his hand in yours but he doesn’t let go.

He hums as if hesitant of believing what you’ve just said and instead he suggests, “Don’t you wanna take another walk around the block?”

“George, my feet hurt.” They had been hurting for a while but you hadn’t said anything just to not ruin things, and because you were enjoying his company so much that you were willing to endure the pain for a while longer.

The drummer comes to a quick solution, “I’ll carry you.”

Which makes you chuckle, “Sure you would.” You genuinely don’t want the date to end so in a bit of a rushed decision, you bargain, “Don’t you… Do you wanna come upstairs?”

He gets a kick of excitement inside him but he wants to play it cool, so he jokes, “What, are you gonna take my picture?”

You hold back a snort of laughter, and shrug as if it was fine by you that he only wanted that. “If that’s what you want.” There’s a little voice in your head that tells you not to but there is another one that purely encourages you to have fun.

“Yeah, that works.” George casually says, like he isn’t praying that he gets lucky to even get another kiss out of you.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

“Where’d you want me?” George turns to look at you as you drop your camera on your bedside tables and take your jacket off to perch on the back of a loveseat you have in the corner of your room.

You take one of the new rolls out of your pocket and change it for the one you’d almost fully used earlier that day. “Wherever you’re comfortable.” you tell him, focusing on perfectly lining the roll before you can turn to him.

“Bed’s quite comfy.'' You hear George say from behind you and when you look up to see him, you find him lying on his side, head perched on his hand and a smirk on his face. “Paint me like one of your french girls.” He teases, resting his other hand dramatically on his forehead.

All you do is giggle at his antics, “You’re such an idiot.” Shaking your head, you come up to the bed and try looking at the scene through your lenses but you aren't quite convinced by the shot.

George watches you struggle, stepping backwards and forwards, to the sides before sighing. He reminds you with a soft smile, “I’m not used to being the one to pose for the camera. You’re gonna have to guide me.”

“Okay.” Silently, you think about it as you bite on your thumb and once a vision comes to your mind, you start instructing him, “Lean into your forearms, sideways so you fit in the bed.” But you find what’s bothering you and it’s that his legs are half hanging off the bed.

“Why are you so tall? Oh my god.” You go over to the drummer and prompt him to go further into the bed, perching one of his sock-clad feet up on the bed and the other leg staying stretched on the bed. “There, now look at me.”

George looks at you with a blank face first to which you complain about but when he actually shows you a smile he starts giggling, and if there had been something you had learned about George quite early into your date was that his laugh was incredibly contagious, so you find yourself shaking with laughter as you try to take his pictures and you end up having to call him out for it.

“Don’t laugh! You’re making me laugh!” You scorn him, struggling to sound serious between your giggles.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes halfheartedly, swallowing his laughter until he goes back to a stoic face and he gives you the perfect soft smolder.

You hum in satisfaction at the result of that frame and then you move onto instructing him to do the next pose, “Throw your head back a bit and close your eyes.” He silently listens and does as you say which earns him a sweet, “Just like that.” from you.

Of course, your words make George give you a look, one that had you lightly blushing and since you know he can recognize the way you get flustered, you hide behind your camera.

“What?” You say behind the device, inquiry thrown out into the air, and warn him, “Don’t look at me like that.”

George chuckles to himself, wondering if you are this naive or if you are playing dumb. So when you take another picture of him, he purposely complains, “My leg’s cramping.” to then throw himself back on the bed, ending up completely splayed over the duvet and breaking the pose.

“George!” You scold him yet again, a bit of amusement sneaking through your words.

He groans in response and without moving, tells you to “Just take a picture like this.”

You kiss your teeth to exaggerate your disapproval and shake your head, “I can’t even see your face.”

“Come here so you can see it.” He resolves easily for you, waving you over to come close to the side of the bed instead of taking pictures by the end of it. You roll your eyes at him in amusement, not moving at first but since he actually doesn’t plan on moving, you have to do as he says.

But attempting to get a picture from above while standing beside the bed is an actual failure, “That’s an awkward angle, look at me.” You try to get him to turn to his side again but he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Need you on your side.” You say explicitly this time but he doesn’t let up either.

Instead he suggests, “Why don’t you just get up here?” He pats the bed, right next to his hip and you blush just thinking about it. At your silence, he opens his eyes and turns his head to the side to encourage you with a “C’mon.”

He offers his hand so you can use it as leverage to kneel on the bed on each side of his hips and hover above him. You struggle as you do so because you’re growing nervous and therefore clumsy.

“Fucking hell, George.” You curse under your breath, seeing him from above is an angle that you don’t really know if you can handle.

“What?” George bites his bottom lip to not let a smirk break on his face.

Yet, not even that keeps you from knowing that he knows just what he was doing but you won’t say anything, because you’re enjoying this a lot more than you are supposed to. So you stick to just replying, “Nothing.” as you take yet another picture of him.

Remembering his tattoos, you bit your bottom lip for a few seconds before hesitatingly asking, “Why don’t you take your jacket off?”

George lets his hands rest right above your knees and squeezes your legs as he teases, “Is that code for something?”

You hoped your flustered state wasn’t obvious so you can play off your nonchalant, “For ‘I want to see your tattoos’, yes.”

It goes right over his head though, because he keeps smirking as he sarcastically replies, “Right, right.”

You move so he can take the piece of clothing off without you hovering over him but when he’s done and laying on the bed again, he pats his right side so you can move your left leg there and have you hover over him properly again.

“How’s that look?” He asks cheekily as his hands go to touch your legs again, the skin up to your mid thighs showing because your dress slit allows it to open and rise up in the position you’re in.

“Amazing.” You breathlessly compliment, making him raise an eyebrow at you.

The shutter goes off again and, as you roll the film, he tests the waters, “Do you want to see them all?”

“Sure.” The word comes out so soft it could’ve gone with the wind, his hands leave your thighs for a second to grab the bottom of his shirt.

“Top’s coming off next then, is that alright?” He asks for confirmation first and you nod eagerly, your pupils dilating in anticipation.

He sheds himself off his shirt in the constricted space he had, you’re so spaced out that you don’t move but it isn’t a problem for George. If anything, his smirk grows at your inability to act and it gets bigger when he throws his shirt somewhere across the room and you’re left shamelessly gawking at his naked top half.

After a minute of your eyes wandering everywhere, George brings your back to reality by letting his hands come over your thighs again. You tremble at the same time as the drummer says, “Y/N/N?”

“Yeah?” You ask, slowly coming back to reality. Your brain has been completely taken over by the view of the taut muscles of his arms littered by colorful ink, a pair of symmetric ‘broken’ tattoos on both sides of his collarbones and his torso beautifully chiseled with a defined six pack.

“When are you taking the picture?” He reminds you, trying not to smirk too hard as to not put you off.

“Shit, sorry.” You say under your breath and, after quickly focusing the shot, finally take a picture of him like that.

There was a heavy silence that hung over you two, the trail of his fingers making your skin grow hot and your throat going dry at the growing need for anything at all. So you find yourself surprised when he breaks the silence to ask you, “Can I take your picture?”

“Mine?” You repeated like you’d heard wrong.

George nods and lets you know, “You look really pretty from here.”

In a feeble attempt not to have him do that, you remind him, “You don’t know how to.”

“Matty had a film camera a few years ago, I know how to.” George surprises you even further when he explains and just to try a bit harder, he pouts at you and says, almost begging, “Please?”

“Okay.” You let yourself accept, your mind too distracted by the view beneath you to even fight.

Once you hand him the camera, he lifts it up to his eyes and lets out a chipper, “Smile.” as an instruction, which you follow only just a bit shyly.

You’re about to get the device back from him when he pulls it away from your grasp and pleads, “Another one please?”

You sigh at the drummer’s exaggerated pout until it turns into a giggle and that’s when the shutter goes off. Your cheeks burn again when he compliments as he rolls the film, “Stunning.”

Letting the camera rest beside him, George tries his luck and lets his hands rub on the skin of your thighs a bit further up. You don’t refuse it, he can clearly see the growing hunger in your eyes as you look down at him so he continues, letting his gaze trail down your body to drink in all of your but when he reaches down to your legs is when he catches a slight glimpse of red ink on your left thigh that makes him ask, “Do you have more tattoos?”

He doesn’t remember your mentioning any other tattoos than the ones you’d shown him at the restaurant. So when you nod, he can’t help but ask, “Where?”

“One, right here.” You grab his right hand so he can touch over the fabric of your dress where the one on your rib is. Your eyes looking right into his and his lips opening further when you continue, “And this one here.” lifting the fabric up to show the ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.

George lets his right hand fall until it reaches the one on your thigh, you’re still clutching the satin in your first so he can fully see it. He rubs on the red ink on your skin as he stares at it, eliciting goosebumps to break on your entire body.

He looks up and asks with a low voice about the only one he hasn’t seen yet but you had just let him touch over your dress, “What’s the other one?”

“A word.” You vaguely say, as if encouraging him to continue asking about it.

“Which word?” His fingers trail further up, making your knees go completely weak. They had been hurting from hovering over him for so long but his touch is the thing to finally have you finally sit on his lap.

And that’s when you feel him growing hard in his jeans.

His fingers had already been making your every thought go straight down to your core so you’re entirely driven by lust when you fully lift the satin up and shed the dress off your body, leaving you only in your underwear and in full show for George.

It’s involuntary, his hips jerking forward and pressing on your center, his mouth agape at the sight and he grows even more breathless when you roll your center against his hardening cock.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, taking one quick look at the strange word on your rib before perching himself up on his left forearm to wrap his right hand around your neck and pull you in for a hungry kiss.

You lean further into him, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and digging into his hair to pull on it as your lips move with each other. Your fingers tugging on his hair made him groan into your mouth and, as payback, he tightens his fingers around your neck, earning a loud moan out of you.

George pushes himself up with his left hand until he’s sitting on the bed, his right arm wrapping around your waist to keep you flush against him. Your tongues taste each other and your breaths grow heavy when you start rolling your hips in sync, meeting in the middle and creating a delicious friction that soon enough forces you to break the kiss only to gasp in pleasure into each other's mouths.

His fingers come to graze the ink on your left rib, your desperate side having you sink your hips down to roll against him and turn his, “What does it mean?” into a gorgeous moan.

Your lips brush as he moans and you respond to his sound with a mewl of your own and when that reaches his ears, George forgets ever asking anything for he can’t wait any longer to feel your lips on his again.

The kiss grows needy then. His hand goes from your ribs down to knead the flesh of your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and encouraging you to move against him. Your clit was getting so stimulated from only being covered by the thin material of your lace thong against his jeans which means you can’t kiss him any longer.

A string of moans falls from you as you quicken your pace, getting louder as you go but your actions are interrupted when George clutches you tightly by your middle and swiftly flips the two of you around so it you’re resting on your back on the bed with him hovering right over you.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden change of positions, your hand flying to cup his face and bring his lips back on yours and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull his hips into your core in a desperate attempt to have the friction back.

The feeling of his hard on coming down to rub harshly against you every time he bucks his hips forward makes your head spin. He starts off by teasing you with the friction and leaving you hanging for a few seconds before going back in but when you start gasping into his mouth, he keeps himself close to you and relentlessly rolls his hips on yours, hard cock pressing deliciously against your throbbing clit.

The pace grows faster, making it impossible for you to continue moving your lips with his so he takes it as a sign to continue on with what he wants to do first. Unfortunately, that means his hips stop moving and leave you throbbing and clenching around nothing but he makes it up to you with his lips all over your skin.

Wet kisses trail down your neck, his lips taking their time to give every bit of your skin attention on the way down. Kissing, sucking, licking. His fingers run down your sides until they clutch tightly on your hips, fingers pressing hard on the skin there and making your cry out in pleasure even louder.

Your breath is heavy by the time he stops sucking bruises all over your chest and abdomen, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging on it so he can come back up but instead his tongue runs flat from just above your belly button agonizingly slowly up until his nose bumps against the hem of your bra.

George looks up at you through his lashes, teeth coming to bite on the fabric and tugging them the slightest bit down so you know what he wants to do and you desperately nod.

Without much of a proper attempt to take the piece of clothing off, he just tugs down the lace cups on it and lets your tits spill out freely for him. He groans from the pits of his chest at the sight, hips bucking forwards into the mattress harshly in search of some relief for himself.

But not letting any more seconds go by, George dives to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. Groaning around it, the vibrations of the noise causing white heat to run straight down to your throbbing wet cunt.

He switches the sucking for flicking it with his tongue, blowing cold air and smirking as your nipple hardens at his actions, ending with a soft bite and tug that have you loudly saying his name in call for mercy.

You needed something, anything. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing and it’s almost torturous. But your cries fall on deaf ears for he moves onto your other nipple and repeats his process. You’re only ruining your underwear further, so wet you feel uncomfortably sticky with your thong still on.

“George, baby, please–” You plead in anguish when he starts sucking bruises on your tits, biting them until you whimper loudly under him.

“What do you need Y/N/N?” He asks sweetly, a stark contrast to his vicious attack on your chest.

“Anything. Just–” You try to say, your words catching up in your throat as your desperation for release clouds your logic and makes you sound stupid.

So you rely on grabbing one of his hands from your hips and guiding it down to where you’re aching. The simple graze of one of his fingertips on your swollen clit eliciting a pathetic mewl out of you.

“Oh sweetheart,” George tuts “Made quite a mess, haven’t you?” His pointer finger runs up and down your clothed core slowly and so faintly you don’t even know if you are imagining it.

Applying a bit more pressure assures him to hear every one of your needy sounds and feeling like you had waited enough, he leaves a light feather kiss over your center.

“Need help cleaning up this mess, yeah?” His words are sweet, like he’s finally taking pity on you. The thought of him doing absolutely anything at that moment sounds so fucking good your hum in agreement sounds more like a whine, barely able to make eye contact with him in your hazy mind.

His long tongue runs flat over your underwear, wetting even more than it already is and he moans at the taste of your slick soaking through it. His fingers tug the fabric down your legs and throw it somewhere behind him in record time. He finds himself almost drooling at the sight of you completely exposed to him.

If you had any hint of inhibitions left in you, you would’ve tried to close your legs under his attentive gaze but he’s entranced and you’d had it with waiting any longer so you prop your legs wide open and squirm in your place.

“George, please.”

Your pleading is so sweet, so desperate, he can’t deny you any longer. So he dips his head in between your legs and starts lapping at you like a starved man. At the first proper taste he has of you, he moans loudly, tongue running up and down your slit to gather as much of you as he can and enjoying every drop of your arousal on his tongue.

“Are you not gonna continue taking my picture?” George interrupts his task to tauntingly ask, going back to using his tongue on you, this time flicking it up and down quickly on your clit and making you shiver.

Your words are caught in your throat when he doesn’t relent his actions but still looks at you expectantly through his lashes, “Right– F-fuck! Right now?”

He only allows himself to stop for the amount of seconds it takes him to nod and say, “Yes baby, be a good girl and take my picture.”

That ‘good girl’ makes you roll your eyes in utter pleasure, and all you can think of is doing as he’s telling you to earn his praise; because you want more, you need more.

Your head turns quickly to see where he’s left the camera, and you bring it to your eyes to take a picture as fast as you can. Your thoughts are already becoming clouded by the tightening coil in your lower belly.

His disheveled dirty blonde hair in between your legs, his arms underneath your legs and hands clutching your thighs in place is all that you captured in that frame. The shutter goes off letting George know you have done as he’d said and he congratulates you by praising you with a proud, “Such a good fucking girl.” and a few kisses to your clit which make you jolt.

He goes back down, trying to clean up the mess of slick and saliva that’s dripping down your inner thighs and onto the duvet, but you’re so desperate so you start rocking your hips against his face, trying to steer him back to where you wanted him to be and, to your satisfaction, he follows the silent instruction by going back to your center and this time pointing his tongue and dipping it inside your sopping hole.

Your legs instinctively close around his head, eliciting a breathy laugh from him that hits your core as he continues tongue fucking you. His hands come to spread your legs open again, holding your limbs down on the bed strongly, not allowing you to move any longer.

The feeling of his wet tongue dipping in and out of you has you growing increasingly louder, begging and pleading with him not to stop, your orgasm so close you can feel it.

But despite your words, he stops.

At that very moment, you swear you can cry, knowing you had just been about to come undone on his tongue. But just before you can pathetically let your frustrated tears roll down your cheeks, his lips wrap around your throbbing clit and he sucks on it. The perfect amount of pressure for you to thrash around beneath him as your pleasure resumes and hits you with an incredible force, making you let out a string of moans of his name and then a bunch of “Yes! Fuck yes!”, hands flying down to tangle your fingers in his hair and keep him in his place.

“I’m gonna cum!” You yell out loud, eyes shutting tightly since the pleasure impedes you from keeping them open, and when George starts humming as he sucks your clit, you are done for.

Your legs tremble under his hold, toes curling and your fingers tugging his hair tighter than you had been before. You black out as your orgasm hits you hard, the oxygen in your lungs leaving you entirely as your back arches off the bed and you only come back from your high when his incessant sucking becomes too much for your oversensitive self so you pull him away from you.

He giggles, completely entranced by your fucked out state. Watching you cum had been an experience but god don’t you look beautiful with your chest heaving, bruises looming on your skin, a flush to your face and chest, a thin coat of sweat making your body and face shine.

But before he can give you any more attention, his gaze falls back to your cunt and it’s glistening with arousal. You taste so fucking good to him that he wastes no more time to lick you clean. Your legs tremble at the resumed contact of his tongue on your sensitive core, whimpers stubbornly leaving you as he goes.

Your fingers leave his hair alone but your left hand cradles his head as he laps up at everything you have given him, and after a whole minute of him meticulously licking clean every inch of skin that had been wet with your arousal, he starts a trail of kisses from your mound until he reaches your belly button.

Flashing a smile up at you, George rests his chin on your lower stomach and you can’t hold yourself back from brushing his messy hair back almost adoringly, post orgasm haze making you extra appreciative of him and his skilled tongue work.

His fingers rub circles on the top of your thighs, “Feel good?” He asks before leaving more soft kisses on your lower stomach.

“Very.” You answered with a smile, fingers brushing through his hair.

He hums at the feeling of your touch, “Good to know, gorgeous.”

Turning to see where you’d left it, you reach out to grab your discarded camera. Melting into the duvet under George’s gentle touch and his lips pressing on your skin leisurely, you really make an effort as you lean on your forearms so that you can get a better look at him to take a picture. He looks up at you with a dizzying smirk that you manage to capture, and you know that you’ll adore that picture no matter the outcome of this day.

His lips tickle the skin of your lower stomach when he points out, “Didn’t even have to tell you this time.”

Putting the device back down on the bed, you shrug with a grin sneaking onto your lips, “You look good.”

“Do I, now?” He teases, dropping his hands from your thighs and pressing them on the mattress so he can slowly push himself up and crawl his way up to hover over you again.

“You always do.” Your words come laced with lust, his eyes darkening as he gets closer and you just can’t wait any longer to have him in more ways. “Come here.” You instruct by wrapping a hand around his neck, fingers pressing on the sides of it until he groans loudly in pleasure and when he lets the sound leave his lips, you smirk and warn, “My turn.”

Pulling him in by his neck means that your tongues meet instantly when you start the kiss, and when you taste yourself on his tongue, you moan so loudly George growls just as loud in response.

The kiss is all teeth clashing, spit dribbling down to your chins, noses bumping, deep exhales sounding loudly and trying to overpower the sounds of your swollen lips moving together.

It’s George the one to grow louder when your hand drops from his neck, down his naked torso to the button of his jeans, which you undo with quick fingers and pull the zip down before you can palm him over the fabric of his boxers.

“F-fuck…” He lets out when your nimble fingers squeeze him and stroke him up and down. He’s so hard that your touch makes him shiver.

You can feel him so swollen and heavy under your hand, your mind already spinning about how big he is but you want to have him unravel under you so badly, you push any worries about his size to the back of your head.

His hips move slowly, helping with your movements, clearly wanting to reach his high but you want to taste him and you want it now. So you leave his cock alone to instruct him, “Lay down, baby.”

You switch positions, George laying on his back and you’re kneeling between his legs. He pants as he watches you shamelessly gawk at him, your mouth going dry at the clear outline of his cock.

“Fucking hell, George.” You curse as you tug on the top of his jeans so he can lift his hips up for you to take them off him.

He does as instructed and you’re just too impatient to wait any more, you want to feel him heavy on your tongue already. His boxers come off quickly after his jeans, his hard cock springing up to touch right by his navel.

You gulp. He’s thick, angry red tip already leaking from how aroused he is. Intimidating but so inviting.

Dipping your head down, you start kissing his hips. Leaving kisses that go from sweet to wet and messy the more he squirmed under you.

“You…” George pleads, hand coming down to cradle your head. Not to push it towards where he wanted you but to have you look up at him and see just how fucking desperate he is for you.

You feel that look go down straight to your core, clenching your legs together at the feeling. “I know baby, I know.” You say in a coo.

Your fingers wrap around him, the pressure of them making George huff in pleasure with his lips pressed together. He feels so heavy in your hand, veins popping for you to see how pained he is.

“You’re so big.” You trail off, a bit of wander in your voice. You have no idea how he’s going to fit in your mouth, he’s by far the biggest cock you have ever come across but you like a challenge.

Your tongue licks a bold strip from base to tip, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you taste the salty arousal that has already been leaking from him. He curses under his breath at the feeling of your wet tongue on his cock, but the breathy words turn into a loud moan when you wrap your lips around him and sink your mouth down onto him.

Barely able to fit half of him in your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, you pull back to catch a breath, your hand taking over for a few seconds as you inhale deeply and go back in. You gag around him when you manage to get him deeper, George moans loudly as you do so, trying his hardest not to buck his hips upwards into your tight throat.

His hand goes back to hold your head but this time, his fingers tangle in your hair, only to pull you up so you can breathe. But you don’t want to have it easy, you want to see how much of him you can take and hear every one of his pretty moans.

So you go against his hold, sinking your mouth further down and gagging around him again. Your hand stays at the base of his cock, stroking the rest you can’t get to, as you continue bobbing your head up and down on him.

George is a mess of groans and moans, whimpering whenever you gag and moan around him, your throat tightening around him driving him insane.

He lifts his head up slightly to look down at you, pulling on your hair so you come off him and meet his eyes. George is met with you panting, pink wet swollen lips, saliva dripping down your chin and neck, tears falling out of the corner of your eyes, hair disheveled but pupils dilated and a satisfied smirk at it all.

Your hand keep stroking him up and down, fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure and he moans at the combination of your touch and the glorious view of you like this, “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect.”

The praise only encourages you more, so you lean back down and lick a strip up his cock again, this time looking up at him through your lashes. An innocent look in your eyes as you lap at the tip of his cock eagerly.

He exhales in awe, “Look at you– Shit!” He curses loudly when you sink slowly back down until again he reaches your throat, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily and making you gag loudly.

You gasp out for air for a mere second before you do it again, until you manage to control your gagging a bit better and encourage George to fuck your mouth with a simple squeeze to his hip.

“Oh fuck– Such a pretty filthy girl.” He praises as he obeys the silent instructions and rocks his hips forwards slowly and ever so slightly. “You like it when I fuck your throat?” His question is thrown out into the air in between groans.

You answer with a hum that vibrates around him and that’s when George starts feeling like he’s losing control. His hips grow erratic and you notice so you hum and moan around him even more, causing him to get closer to his high.

“Y/N/N m’gonna cum!” He warns you loudly, the wet squelching sounds of him going in and out of your mouth and your moans bouncing off the walls in a pornographic symphony that makes the scene even better.

And when your hand drops from around the base of his cock to play with his balls, he’s sent over the edge. He pushes his hips forwards and stills then as he comes, cock twitching in your mouth and his cum coating the walls of your throat with a warmth you appreciated with another low moan.

His hips fall back on the bed but you don’t relent just yet, sucking him off for a little longer to take everything you can. But he has to pull you off him by your hair when he can't take it anymore, cursing and calling out your name like he was scolding you.

“Fucking hell.” He mumbles, still dizzy from his orgasm but completely entranced by the way you come off him with a whimper and a satisfied smirk.

You wipe the drool off your chin with the back of your hand and slowly crawl up until you are laying on your side right beside him, staring right into his eyes with hunger still darkening yours.

“Feel good?” You ask, just what he’d asked you after he made you cum but in a mocking manner.

It gets you a chuckle in response before one of his big hands comes to cup your jaw and crashes your lips together.

Kissing George has you dazed. His lips are soft but firm when moving along with yours, they’re wet and swollen, warm exhales leaving his parted lips for your to swallow, tongue peeking through them to meet yours. He whimpers so loud when he tastes himself on your tongue, fingers digging into your cheek and making you mewl in response.

Your skin grows hot the more you kiss. He doesn’t even let you get a proper breath whenever he pulls back for a brief second, because he’s back on your mouth with desperation—lips smacking and tongues licking at each other.

Your hands go on a path from his face to his head, the back of his neck, his shoulders, and eventually to his back, nails digging into it when he starts nipping at your bottom lip, at the same time as his right hand drops from your jaw down to pinch your nipples, eliciting gasps out of you.

“George…” You let out in a gasp when he has your nipple pinched and twisted between his thumb and index finger.

He’s smirking right over your parted lips, amused at the way you shiver every time he goes from one nipple to the other. Your nails claw at his back when you feel the electric shocks that his touch gives you travel all the way down to your center, feeling yourself growing wetter and that familiar knot in your lower stomach forming.

His lips slot between yours again, distracting you from his touch going from your tits down to tease your cunt.

With his thumb, George starts rubbing circles on your clit, making you pull back from the kiss with a loud gasp that turns into a cry of pleasure. You could feel yourself throbbing already, and it gets worse when he picks up his pace.

He isn’t going too fast but not slow either, the speed in which his thumb rubs at your clit has you writhing your hips in response, subconsciously trying your best to get closer and closer to your high.

“George! Fuck!” You yell when he slides a finger inside you. It’s thick and long, curling inside you and making you see stars already, half lidded eyes catching him smirking at you and his breaths growing shallow when taking in your reactions.

“You like that?” He asks you teasingly, pecking your lips as your face scrunches up in pleasure.

You manage to hum in response, but he finds that not good enough, so he adds another finger, stretching you out easily and making your back arch as you moan loudly. “Yes! Yes!” You encourage, and when he curls his fingers again, knuckle deep inside your cunt, you felt yourself be completely overcome by pleasure and your words slip past your lips without even thinking of them first, “Oh my– Fuck! George, your fingers feel so fucking good.”

His fingers are slipping in and out of you with ease from how wet you are, your hips erratically moving as he thrusts them inside you to meet him in the middle. “That’s it, cum on them baby.”

The dirty talk has you completely fucked over, “George, I’m so– Fuckkkk!” You can’t help but scream out when he pushes a third finger inside you, feeling completely stuffed with him.

It feels so good how much he’s opening you up, and he’s loving the way whenever he pulls his fingers back your walls push him off so he has to slowly sink his fingers deep inside your cunt again. “I know, I can feel you clenching hard around them.” You’re squeezing his fingers so tight, his throat goes dry just thinking about how good you’re gonna feel milking his cock, “Can’t wait to fill you up and feel how tight you’re around my cock baby.”

You agree, so drunk in pleasure you just want to feel even more of him, “I need you. George, I need–”

But he tuts before you can complete your mumbled sentence, “You’re cumming on my fingers first.” You’re about to cry out like a brat, about to beg for him to stuff you up with his big cock but his words beat yours, “Come on baby, give it to me like the good girl you are.”

His voice is low in your ear, so sultry and inviting you feel it deep in your core and you just can’t say no. Not when you’re gonna earn his praise, those words he says that have you wrapped around his little finger.

So you let go. Your toes curl as his fingers keep pumping in and out of you, hitting that spot perfectly for your to see stars as you come, white heat enveloping you and taking ahold of your entire body as you cum, “Fuck, fuck! Oh– George!”

“That’s it, baby. So fucking stunning.” He encourages, watching his fingers continue to disappear inside your tightening cunt, your legs shaking and your hips moving clumsily to meet his hand. He gets impossibly hard at the sight of it all, biting his bottom lip as he moans.

You gush all over him, slick drenching his hand and dripping down your cunt onto the duvet. He can’t let it go to waste, so he pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean, moaning around them when he tastes you again.

So fucking sweet. He needed more.

You feel his fingers gathering your mess and you manage to peel your eyes open to watch as he sucks it all off his fingers again.

Shamelessly, you just watch as he dips down time and time again until he deems his work of cleaning you up done, the last one being offered out to you and you obey enthusiastically, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sinking your mouth on them to suck them clean the best you can. Your eyes stay on his as you do so, moaning loudly around them while you batted your lashes at him, just fully putting a show on for him.

The view makes George’s cock twitch, a bead of precum leaking from his head. He reaches out behind you for the forgotten camera and when you’re trying to catch your breath, eyes closed in bliss, he takes a picture of you.

Your eyes snap open at the sound of the shutter going off and you look at him all startled like you need an explanation.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” He quickly justifies, lifting the device back up to his eyes and adjusting the focus to take another one as he adds, “All fucked out. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Stop.” You whine when the shutter goes off again, hand coming up to grab at the lenses and forcing him to put it down, “I must look a mess.”

His head shakes in disagreement, tongue swiping at his bottom lip with his eyes drinking you in all over again, “You don’t. You look hot.” Skin glowing due to the thin layer of sweat your activities have caused, lips swollen and wet, your chest heaving and flushed, the gorgeous pattern of every bruise he’s sucked on your skin which are darkening more and more, hair disheveled and splayed over the pillows.

“I’m confiscating this.” It’s the brief ultimatum you give him, grabbing the camera and turning the action on him instead.

You take just one picture of him and he allows it, only to then complain by saying, “You have enough of me.” and taking the camera back.

Rolling your eyes, you fake being annoyed and kiss him quickly before pushing yourself up and off the bed, telling him, “Gonna go to the bathroom.” making a beeline for your wardrobe and getting yourself a new pair of underwear first, adjusting the cups of your bra so they hold your breasts again.

It isn’t longer than five minutes that you take, coming back to him wearing his boxers again and laying over the bedsheets—he’s discarded the duvet and left it a big crumpled knot on the floor by the foot of the bed—, a hand behind his head whilst the other is scrolling on his phone.

His position looks inviting, so you crawl on the bed and sit on his lap with a mischievous smile on your face. You reach out to get the camera he has placed on the bedside table at the same time as he drops his phone there and his hands go up to hold your hips.

“Put your hands behind your head again.” You instruct him softly, almost a mutter that sounds so shy, the corner of his lips tug into a smirk.

You take a picture of him like that and another when he runs a hand through his hair but you stop when his hands come back to grab at your skin, going from your waist until they softly come down to rest at your hips.

With a soft squeeze on your sides, he tilts his head to ask, “Am I allowed to smoke?” to which you nod and get off him to open the windows and get him a cigarette and a lighter.

Getting back on top of him, you place the cigarette between his lips but before you can give him the lighter, you grab the camera again just so you can capture the moment he ignites it alive.

George looks so fucking hot lighting it up: cheeks hollowing ever so slightly, brows furrowing, long fingers that make the lighter look minuscule in his hand, lips pursed around the stick.

You snap away and capture the moment he blows out the smoke upwards, before taking another drag and then blowing it in your direction.

The familiar scent of the tobacco and just how arousing you’re finding it all, impulses you to start moving your hips slowly on him. The sudden movement makes his breath hitch in his throat, causing him to erupt in coughs when the smoke goes up the wrong hole. He had been half hard beneath you when you sat on his lap, so you can’t really hold back from wanting to have him in a new way now.

That’s when you guide his hand to your mouth so he can place the cigarette in between your lips for you to take a drag. His mouth opens agape as you do so, the rolling of your hips only growing more intent and he starts twitching and getting harder in his boxers.

He can feel your heat, the way you’re wetting your underwear and starting to wet his own, the pulsing of your swollen clit. He can see how your nipples grow hard through the lace of your bra, and the way goosebumps rise in your skin as you go. Soft gasps that turn into hush whimpers that he wants so badly to turn into those loud moans of yours that he’s quite enjoying getting drunk on.

“Have you brought a condom?” You ask breathlessly, camera being once again forgotten somewhere on the bed for you to be able to rest your hands on his chest as leverage.

A flip switches inside George, the simple hint of him finally being able to sink himself deep inside you making his blood rush down to his cock.

“Yeah.” He nods eagerly and it’s a relief when you quickly get off him so he can rush to get it, not without going up to your dresser so he can put out the cigarette on the ashtray that’s laid there by your jewelry.

He had thought it was foolish of him to pocket a couple condoms before he left his flat earlier today, fully scorning himself for being so ridiculous as to assume you would want to shag after your date but oh was he glad he had still done it right then.

Condom in hand, George goes back to the bed but not without shedding himself off his boxers first. You bite your bottom lip as you get your bra off to throw it on the floor behind you, seeing him wrap his hand around his length and pump it slowly as he watches you almost naked figure. Your hands go down to your hips so you can quickly tug down your underwear, eagerly taking it off and throwing it on the same spot on the floor you had dropped your bra.

Crawling up to the edge of the bed, you hum as you watch him stroke himself up and down, your mouth watering for another taste of him. So when you get right in front of him, you dip your head down until your mouth is right before his hardening cock and sticking your tongue out, you lick at his head slowly.

He grows heavier on your tongue as you go, twitching in your mouth when you wrap your lips around him again, his head thrown back at the feeling of your wet mouth enclosed around him and sucking him off patiently.

But he has to use an incredible amount of self restraint to pull you off him, a hand delicately coming around your neck to have you let go off his cock with a pop and pull you up to face him.

“I’m fucking you now.”

George isn’t asking, he’s simply informing you and that makes you squirm under his gaze in anticipation. Thighs pressing together and eyes drinking in the way lust makes his behavior change. But you want a bit of control, even if it’s just for him to ruin you.

“Can I ride you?” You ask innocently, puppy eyes that you pray will get your a yes.

You take the way he pulls you in for a messy kiss as one.

In no time he’s laying on his back with his head resting on the pillows, teeth ripping the condom wrapper open while your hand wraps around him, waiting for him to put the latex on. The anticipation grows and hangs in the air like a heavy cloud as George rolls it down his length, sighing at the feeling of it around him.

You catch a glimpse of your camera through the corner of your eye and you can’t help but think there won’t be a better thing than capturing his pure ecstasy in a picture so you grab it before you straddle him again.

You lift the camera up to your eyes with one hand while the other gets ahold of his cock to line him up, rubbing his head on your clit and making yourself gasp at the feeling. You clench around nothing as you do so, and you can already feel yourself drenched.

Even after he’s stretched you out with his fingers, it’s slightly challenging for you to take him when you start sinking onto him.

Your jaw drops in a silent gasp when every inch of him starts stretching you out, eyes watering at the initial sting. Your eyes want to flutter closed at the feeling but you do your best to not let them close entirely so you can capture the way he groans loudly with his head thrown back as you let your cunt swallow him whole.

Breath hitching in your throat, you sink down completely until you can feel him so deep a pathetic cry of pleasure slips past your lips.

You draw your hips up and back down on him slowly, testing the waters on his size and what angle is good for you to feel the best. You’re both a mess of loud moans at the feeling. He’s so big, he’s filling you up in a way you’ve never felt before so your walls are clenching hard around him which has his head spinning.

“You–” George breathes out, hands flying to your hips and clutching them so tightly just to show how bad he’s holding himself back from just thrusting up into you, or better yet just flipping you around and fucking you into the mattress.

“Fuck–, I know. I know.” You say in a high pitch tone. One of your hands falls to rest flat on his chest and use as support, “I– oh, fuck…” You curse as you roll your hips forwards and then backwards this time, making you completely still at the insane sensory overdrive you’re getting from it.

George knows you need a second or two but you stay frozen for longer than he can hold so he pleads, “Baby– Fuck, baby, I need you to move, you’re so tight.”

“Just–” You try to say, rolling your hips again and mewling loudly. George moans back in response, his hands sliding down to your thighs as your head hangs in pleasure.

You establish a slow place, George’s fingers digging into the flesh of your upper thighs grounding you into the moment and allowing you to take another picture. A picture that captures your legs on each sides of his toned chest, his fingers digging into your skin, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps back a moan, the box tattoo on his thumb right next to the red ink of your ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.

But after you press the shutter on that one, barely being able to clumsily roll the film, you just toss the camera to the side mindlessly and use your new free hand to rest on his chest as well, and the second hand of support helps you start moving your hips faster.

It’s fucking delicious the way he keeps hitting your g-spot from that angle, and when he starts bucking his hips upwards, meeting your in the middle, you can’t hold back the noises you let out. “George, fuck baby! Oh fuckkkk.” You cry out, clit feeling a bit of pressure every time you roll down and hit your pelvis, so you’re fully drunk on pleasure.

His hands run up from your thighs to mercilessly grab your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and stinging just in the best way. “Just like that baby. You feel so fucking good.” He praises you with a groan, helping you actually lift your hips up and down on him.

“You’re so– Oh fuck–” You’re so cock drunk, your thoughts are all stupid and leaving you without even being able to finish a sentence.

“Tight little cunt, can barely fit inside you.” George can feel himself meeting the hilt inside you every time, your cries growing in volume the faster the pace gets. “You love it huh, being filled to the brim?”

“Yes, fuck! Yes, I love it, love your cock!” You’re dripping all over him, the noise of the wetness and your skin slapping every time you meet bouncing off the walls and, combined with your moans, makes for a pornographic scene you wish you were recording.

“I know you can go faster. Can you do that for me, baby?” George genuinely can feel himself not lasting any longer with how tight you’re squeezing him.

“I can, I can.” You promise desperately, wanting to be good for him. So you pick up your pace, your hands moving ever so slightly so you can straighten up a bit and when you do so you curse out loud at the new angle, “Ah fuck!”

Your hips grow erratic, your knees helping now when you bounce up and down his cock ever so more intently, enough for you to incessantly gasp in a high pitch every time he hits that spot.

“Such a good girl for me.” His hands stop groping your ass to spank you, making you jolt forward with a loud gasp that turns into a mewl and a whine that tries to pass as a ‘yes’. His cock twitches inside you at that reaction so he does it again and again, feeling your walls flutter around him with every hit, “You're squeezing me so fucking tight, baby. Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Yeah, yes…” You gasp, and if you hadn’t been so adamant on chasing your high, you would’ve noticed George quickly getting the camera and snapping a picture of you riding him. Hair a mess covering up your face but your mouth wide open in a moan, tits bouncing as you ride him, hands on his chest as support.

He’s just about managed to put the camera back down when he feels you squeezing him the tightest and that’s when you finally cum. “George! George! Ge–” You cry out his name like a prayer until it breaks down into a loud moan that tips him over the edge along with your cunt milking him dry into the condom as you sloppily continue to ride him.

“Fuck! Y/N!” George moans loudly, his hands going to your ass again to help you continue as he cums, his cock twitching the more he spurts into the condom, sweet relief making him see stars.

Unable to uphold yourself any longer, you collapse over him, chests heaving in sync as you both come down from your highs. It’s hard catching your breaths when your skin burns from the heat and sticks from the sweat. And George knows you’re rather uncomfortable from the way you groan into him, your fingers lazily trying to brush the hair out of your face but huffing as it sticks to your sweaty forehead.

He brushes your hair back, fingers delicately grazing your face and earning a soft smile and a sigh from you. But then his hold goes down to your hips so he can lift you up and off himself to set you beside him. You whine and pout at the loss of him, feeling so empty after he’s stuffed you to the brim.

You don’t even try to open your eyes, completely spent from your activities and snuggling into the pillows to find some comfort in your post orgasm haze.

George sits up on the edge of your bed and sheds himself off the condom, tying it so he can throw it away, and groaning as he pushes himself off the bed to make his way to the bathroom.

He takes about five minutes there and when he comes back into the room, he smiles, finding a sleepy you struggling to keep your eyes open and smirking at him. He giggles as he walks up to bed and after taking your camera and placing it on one of the bedside tables, he carries your bridal style to take you to the bathroom.

Yes you’re still on cloud nine after that orgasm but you still have a bit of sense in you then so, after thanking him with a kiss, you tell George you’re alright from there and he can wait for you in bed.

You only realize what you’d said as you wash your hands after peeing and you’re cringing just thinking about him being gone once you go back into the room. But you find that he hasn’t left and instead, he’s gone under the bedsheets and is waiting for you to cuddle up to him so you can get some rest.

You giggle like a fool when you get under the sheets and he hooks his arm around your waist to push you flush against him, your back pressed to his chest and he nuzzles into your neck from behind. Your legs tangle together and your breaths sync and slow down as the minutes go by until you succumb to their slumber.

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It’s bright outside when you wake up with the horrendous need to go to the bathroom, one that you’d been sleepily ignoring for a while but that had become too unbearable to endure anymore.

George has his hand around your waist and his leg thrown over yours, effectively keeping you trapped in his hold in bed, so you try to very slowly peel yourself away from him to escape to the toilet.

You’re careful so that you don’t wake him up just yet, but when you manage to get your legs untangled from his, he stirs and grumbles, “Where are you trying to go?” throwing his leg over yours again, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist making you chuckle.

“Bathroom.” You mumble as you try to get away again but he’s stubbornly holding you even tighter to him.

You feel him shake his head as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, a soft “No.” falling in your ears that makes you sigh.

“George.” You say softly to not disrupt the silence in the room, but he doesn’t reply so you try again a little louder this time, “George.” Once again, no response, so you end up whining, “Babyyyy.”

To the nickname he does listen, but his response is just a muttered, “Mhm?”

You turn around in his arms with a bit of struggle, cupping his face and pecking his lips a handful of times so he takes it as enough bribery to listen to you, “Please let me go. I’ll just be a minute.”

George steals one last long peck from you before smiling loopily and nodding, “Okay.”

He lazily retracts his limbs to let you get up freely from the bed, and though he’s fighting his sleep, he manages to peel his eyes open for long enough to watch your naked figure walk away from the bed and into your ensuite.

Keeping track of time is impossible to him when his eyes close again after you leave his line of sight, and he only opens his eyes again when he hears you giggle softly at the sight of him in your bed as you walk back to bed.

“You took longer than a minute.” He points out with his eyes still closed.

You snort and half heartedly apologize, “Sorry, I’m sore.”

His hand comes up to rub at his eyes, and when he does so, he sees the state in which you’ve come back so he frowns and tells you to, “Stop right there.” He sounds so serious, an amused smirk shows on your face because you have no idea what he’s about to say. An accusing finger waves in the air in your direction and he calls you out, “Why are you wearing a robe?”

“Shut up.” You say instantly when hearing that’s what is making him frown, your eyes rolling playfully at him.

“Get that off now.” He instructs but you take another step towards the bed with no intention of taking it off and he grumbles, “Y/N/N…” with a more stern tone that makes you too flustered for this time of day.

“You’re annoying.” You complain with a roll of your eyes, still listening to him and slowly undoing the knot that kept your robe closed, making it a little show as you open it up and let it fall off your body and pool at your feet on the floor.

Of course, George smirks at the sight and he has no shame in looking you up and down with hunger now shining on his sleepy eyes, his cock twitches just by seeing you naked in front of him again. Fuck, you’re stunning.

“Come here gorgeous.” The drummer invites you back into his arms and you don't have to be told twice for you to go back to bed and be the little spoon for him. You’d had such good sleep being completely enveloped in him, heavy limbs acting like a weighted blanket on you and it was utter bliss.

But after seeing you naked again, skin littered with love bites he had left all over your, hair messy and tits perky and bouncing as you walked, George feels the need to show you a bit more of the appreciation he had shown you the day before.

His hand brushes your hair to the side so he can have access to the skin on the back of your neck. Goosebumps breaking on the skin there when he starts pressing open mouthed kisses on it, fingers ghostly running down your back and stopping right on your lower back that had your back arching into him. Your ass grazed his cock every time, making it twitch and start to harden.

In search of friction, he pushes his hips forward and you reciprocate by pressing your ass against him. He keeps his actions going and sets a pace that the two of you keep up, mewling out loud when his hardening cock comes in contact with your cunt, “Hmm, George.”

“Yes, baby?” His lips brush against your skin, a shiver running down your spine and making you shudder, “You’re so fucking beautiful, please let me make you feel good.”

“Yeah…” You nod quickly, it’s a no-brainer. Your breath gets caught in your throat when he pushes his hips forwards again at the same time as you do and the tip of his cock presses on your clit.

“Yes?” He moans in your ear, hand coming around your front to play with your tits, “Can I make you cum again, sweetheart?”

You eagerly nod, swallowing a moan as he pinches your nipple and when he cup your whole tit with one hand, kneading it harshly, your “Please.” came out in the form of a whine.

“Good girl. M’gonna make you feel so good baby, I promise.” His hand continues playing with your tits as you keep grinding on each other. When his cock is hard enough, you feel it come up to rest heavily between his lower stomach and your lower back, and it’s then that he lets his fingers trail down until they hover over your mound and he breathlessly asks, “D’you trust me?”

“Yeah, George…” You’re basically pleading with him to continue, hand coming to clutch his and guide his fingers down to your soaked cunt and when he feels just how wet you are, he groans and pulls away.

“Wait.” George instructs you, leaving you alone on the bed to get a condom. You hear the wrapper rip and him moaning as he puts the condom on, stroking himself up and down a few times before he tugs the sheets off you and turns you from your side to your front so you’re face down and he can hover over you from behind.

His knees are on either side of your hips, forearms pressed on the mattress next to your shoulders and he kisses and sucks all over your back as he praises you for how gorgeous you are over and over.

He keeps bruising you up until you push your ass up and beg him to do something, the ache in your cunt too unbearable.

So George lets go of the patch of skin he’s bruising and does as you ask for, spreading your legs open as he kneels in between them and rubs his tip up and down your slit.

“Don’t tease, please.” You cry into the mattress, your cunt fluttering around nothing and it’s painful knowing just how good he felt inside you but he isn’t allowing you to feel it yet.

But then he just let himself slowly slip inside you and his jaw falls at your tightness in that angle, “Oh Y/N/N… Fuck me.” He feels like he can barely fit in, but you’re dripping with slick so it makes it a bit easier for him to slowly bottom out.

“George–” You choke out, head turning to the side to catch a glimpse of him. Your fingers clawing at the sheets beside your head for dear life.

“I know. You’re so tight.” He whimpers in pleasure, barely able to move an inch out of you because you’re so snug it feels like you’re pushing him out.

“Move baby, please.” You beg again and he starts going then, a slow pace at first that grows in speed rather quickly and has your cursing out loud, “Fuckkkkk!”

He gasps into your ear with every thrust, and it’s soon that the sound of your skin slapping drowns the room along with your moans. “Gonna miss this tight little cunt so much.” He says into your neck, sucking a bruise on the back of it before asking, “Gonna miss me too?”

“Ye– Yes! Oh shit baby!” You gasp when he hooks his left arm under your leg, pulling it upwards slowly and allowing you to stretch a bit more so you feel him even deeper, “Gonna miss you so much!”

He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”

“Oh fuck!” You curse as he hits your g-spot perfectly from that angle, his hips hitting your ass and reminding you of how sore the skin there is from the spanking he gave you the night before. “Yes, yes! Don’t stop, please!”

“If you could only see yourself right now!” He curses under his breath when he looks down to see himself disappear into your cunt, over and over. If he keeps looking at how he keeps sliding in and out of you so easily, he will burst right then so he looks back up to your face and praises you once more, “Taking me so well, baby. You’re such a good girl.”

“Harder, please.” You ask in a whine, and he stills for just a second to get a better standing on his knees before giving it to you like you were begging to, making you instantly get even louder when he hits that sweet spot with more intensity, “Oh my– Fuck! Right there, yes!”

“Just like that, yeah?” His smirk grows on his face, feeling how it keeps getting easier to slide inside you which means you’re fucking drenched and dripping all over him, your walls fluttering around him already making him see stars.

“Yes! Yes!” You chant like a broken record, the coil in your lower stomach tightening by the second and threatening to snap at any moment, “I’m so close!”

His left arm lifts your leg even higher and then leaves it there to be able to bring his fingers down to rub at your clit and send you over the edge, “C’mon baby, cum for me sweetheart!” He encourages you as he rubs fast circles on your throbbing clit, which earns him choked out moans that turn into a throat ripping moan of, “F-fuckkkk! George!”

George feels you squeeze him so tightly as you cum, making it so much harder for him to continue thrusting in and out without losing the rhythm he’s set, he can’t hold it any longer, his hips stuttering as he cums and stilling as he spills his seed in the condom, “Ah shit! Y/N!”

His thrusts become sloppy and messy as he tries to ride out your highs while you spasm around him, whimpering as the aftershocks of your orgasm have your legs trembling under him and your white knuckle grip on the sheets falters.

Letting his weight fall over you almost entirely, George sighs in complete bliss and he kisses the back of your head and your cheek multiple times to say, “Did so good for me, sweetheart.” He drops a kiss on your lips and praises you once more, “My good pretty girl.”

The way he speaks to you makes your stomach flutter, and he feels it when you clench around him. “You like that huh?” He teases with a smirk, his nose brushing up your neck until he comes up to your ear and bites your earlobe to which you mewl in response.

He pulls out, hearing you whine when you feel upsettingly empty again but he rubs circles on your hips soothingly and asks, “Shall we go take a shower? Do you want me to help you up?”

You barely manage to reply with a quiet, “Mhm…” when a loud ringing snaps the two of you out of your wonderful post orgasm bubble.

You don’t really recognize the ringing so you figure it’s George’s phone. Yet, the drummer doesn’t make an attempt to go and get it, as he flops beside you in bed for a second before pushing himself off the bed and sheds himself off the condom you just used.

He gets up to discard it in the bathroom and just as he crosses the threshold of the ensuite, he hears his phone start ringing again. He fully ignores it again, taking his time in the bathroom until he hears you call out for him to pick up the unrelenting calls.

A grunt leaves his lips when he comes back to the room and picks up the phone only to read his sister’s name on the screen so he answers with a meek, “Y’alright?” to let her know he isn’t in the mood for the constant ringing.

You hear pure silence surrounding you for a good half minute before George sighs out an annoyed, “Fucks sake.” Opening your eyes to see him, you move onto your side to watch him as he speaks. “Right now? Really?” He asks, entirely unamused. “Yeah, really busy actually.” He says sternly, looking at you naked in front of him with wide eyes. That makes you purse your lips not to laugh but what gets the giggles out of you is when he sighs loudly and mutters, “I hate you.” to whoever it is on the phone.

It’s barely another half minute that he listens to whoever is on the other side, before he ends the call with an impatient, “Yeah, yeah. Sure. See ya’.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask curiously, your fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

George rolls his eyes at the situation, “My sister needs me for something. She says it’s urgent but I doubt it.” He shrugs then, ignoring the importance of whatever it was his sister needed him for, he had only been half listening really. “I can stay though, it wouldn’t be the first time I ignore her.”

That has you snorting in laughter, “Go, you idiot.”

“But–” He tries to argue as he comes to hover over you, head dipping to steal a kiss out of you which you break after a few seconds by pushing his shoulders softly so you can reassure him it’s fine. After all, you had really enjoyed yourself so you’re genuinely considering another date with him.

“It’s okay. I had the best time with you, and that’s all I wanted.” Your hands come to the back of his head, fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck and scratching his scalp softly.

George clicks his tongue and he pouts to joke, “Knew you only wanted me for my body.”

You cackle at his antics and tell him to “Shut up.” only to do it yourself by pulling him into you so you can share one last kiss. It’s sweet but it isn’t soft, your lips moving together with intent as if to prove you need to do it again because it’s just too good.

But you have to stop it before it can turn into something more. You pull on his hair so your lips separate with a smack and, with the sweetest smile and looking at him with doe eyes, you say, “Thank you, George.”

“I had the best time Y/N/N.” He replies wholeheartedly then, agreeing with your previous point.

“Me too.” You nod softly to reiterate, your hands coming back down to cup his jaw, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin.

One last short kiss is all you get in that bed before you both stand up and get dressed. Well, George does, in the same getup as the day before, while you put your robe back on and tie it around yourself slowly as he finishes getting his shoes on.

“I’ll see you soon for a second date, yeah?” He says when you walk him to the door, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“You definitely will.” You assure, knowing you’d be texting him very soon about a second date if he doesn’t text you first about it.

He winks right as he opens the door, stealing one last peck from your lips before walking away. Leaving you with a stupid smile on your face that only gets bigger when you close the door behind you and go back to your room, seeing the mess you had left the bed looking like.

Yes, you were definitely going on a second date with him.

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A/N: What did you think? Hope you lot enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, I'm so excited to see your reactions! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @drinkurkombucha @vinylandcoffeecollection @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

[mirisss]

8th member of Enhypen

Pairing: Enhypen OT7 x afab! 8th member! reader

Wordcount ≈ 1.1k

Warnings: reader being stressed, anxious, not eating, nausea, calling reader darling, a suggestive joke or two, 

Summary: Being the 8th member of Enhypen isn’t always easy, luckily the boys are always there to comfort their bandmate, who also happens to be their girlfriend. 

Thanks for the request! Hope you enjoy it! Please reblog! 

Third person POV

The day had been terrible for (Y/n), she had barely slept during the night because of nightmares, during the morning she felt sick so she didn’t eat any breakfast, which in turn, only made her more sick later on in the day. During dance practice (Y/n) kept messing up and the instructors yelled at her for being so “unprofessional”, the boys were worried and Jungwon tried talking to her but she just said “It’s nothing, my legs just don’t want to cooperate with me today,” The boys all felt uneasy but trusted that (Y/n) would tell them if something was actually wrong. During vocal practice (Y/n) kept straining her voice because she was so exhausted that she couldn’t breathe correctly. “(Y/n), if you’re not going to take this seriously you can leave today’s practice. With you messing up so much we might have to cut down your lines for the comeback,” (Y/n) took a deep breath, her whole body was shaking from exhaustion and nausea, “I’m sorry ma’am, I’m trying my best, I just can’t breathe,” “Ma’am, (Y/n)’s been off all day. I think she might be catching a cold or something,” Heesung stepped in, hoping the vocal teacher would back off of (Y/n). “Hmm, really? (Y/n), are you feeling sick?” “I-” (Y/n) didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to worry the boys nor did she want to be a burden to them. “I’m not feeling too well, no. I couldn’t sleep and have been nauseous most of the day,” As soon as she admitted to not being well, the boys all went into a frenzy. Jay ran up to her and felt her forehead, “She’s warm, she definitely has a fever,” “(Y/n), you should know better. You have to tell the manager when you’re not feeling well or you might make the boys sick or hurt yourself,” The vocal teacher scolded (Y/n), who was becoming more and more light-headed. “Let’s sit down, come on,” Sunoo saw the color fading from (Y/n)’s face and realized that she might collapse unless she sat down. Jay and Jake who were standing closest to (Y/n) helped her sit down on the floor while Niki ran to get her some water. “We’ll end practice here, good job today boys, (Y/n), when you’re feeling better you’re gonna have to practice some more to make up for this lost time. Boys, make sure to get her home safely and get some food in her,” “Thank you, ma’am. I promise we’ll take care of her,” Sunghoon said as he followed the teacher to the door. 

An hour later and the boys had managed to get (Y/n) to drink some water which helped ease her nausea enough for her to walk to the car and get to their dorm. Sunghoon and Jay helped (Y/n) walk over to the couch while the others ordered some food and got some new clothes for her to change into. “Here, I brought you one of my t-shirts,” Heesung said as he handed her a t-shirt that she once said was her favorite of his. “And I brought you some sweatpants, yours, do you want anything else?” Jungwon asked as he gave (Y/n) a pair of her sweatpants. “I don’t know, I don’t even know if I have enough energy to change clothes,” “Need some help?” Jake said in a flirty tone before he chuckled. “Mmm, you know maybe I do, just thinking of having to stand up makes me want to throw up,” “We’ll help you if you want us to, just say the word,” “Thanks Hoon,” “No problem darling,” “We ordered [insert food of choice], it should be here in 15 minutes,” Sunoo said. (Y/n) with the help of Niki, managed to stand up and change her shirt but had to sit down before she could change into the sweatpants. “We could just get a blanket and you won’t have to put on the sweatpants, you’d just have to take off the ones you’re wearing now,” Jay suggested, not intended in a sexual way but rather for (Y/n)’s comfort. “Here, take this one,” Heesung handed her a blanket. “Maybe I should just head to bed,” “(Y/n), you need to eat, you’re not gonna get better unless you eat. So as the leader of Enhypen, I won’t allow you to go to sleep until you have eaten something. And as your boyfriends, we are all really worried about you, how come you wouldn’t talk to us and tell us you weren’t feeling well?” Jungwon said in a stern tone, one he rarely ever used but he was just so worried about (Y/n). “I’m sorry,” “Darling, you don’t have to apologize just please, next time, tell us, so we can help you,” Sunghoon said as he sat down beside (Y/n) to give her a hug. “Honey, we will always be here for you. No matter what,” Sunoo said while he sat down on the side of (Y/n) and draped the blanket over her legs. “Can someone help me pull my pants off? I don’t have the energy to do it myself,” “Of course, can you hold up your legs?” Jake asked as he bent down a little. (Y/n) lifted her legs and Jake along with Niki pulled the pants off while Sunoo readjusted (Y/n)’s blanket. *Ding* “Food is here!” Jay ran over to the door and got the food while everyone sat down. 

The night continued with (Y/n) slowly eating her food, eating too quickly would only spark her nausea again. The group watched a few episodes of a drama they all liked while cuddling. Eventually, (Y/n) fell asleep with her head resting on Sunghoon’s shoulder. So yeah, being the 8th member of Enhypen isn’t always easy but it’s easier when you have seven amazing boyfriends who are ready to help you with anything and everything. 

[themultifandomgal]

Hi lovely, love reading your work!!!! Could you do one either Connor Rhodes x reader or Will Halstead x reader where she gets really sick with the flu or something and basically gets wiped out for the week, just her boyfriend/ husband (whatever works better) fussing over her doing all kinds of checks on her, just overall caring?

Connor Rhodes- Full Of Flu

Connor and I have been dating now for quite some years. We met through my sister April since she works at the same hospital as Connor and of course dating a doctor means that if I’m ever ill, he knows best.

I wake up early in the morning to Connor’s alarm going off, but the first thing I notice is how sore my throat is and how bad my head hurts. Groaning I throw the bed sheet over my head

“Not going to give me a morning kiss?” I hear my boyfriend says from next to me. I shake my head in reply, but quickly realise that’s a huge mistake. Groaning again I push my face into my pillow “what’s wrong?” Connor asks removing the bedsheet from my head

“Head hurts, throat sore”

“Hmmm you do feel warm” Connor places his hand on my forehead “let me take your temp” he says leaving the bedroom before quickly returning with a thermometer, painkillers and a bottle of water. Connor takes my temperature and sighs “102. I’ve got a 12 hour shift today, but if you start to feel worse message me”

“Ok” i hum to Connor placing a gentle kiss on my head before getting dressed then leaving the bedroom.

I must have fallen back asleep for some time because when I wake up again the sun is shining and next to me on the bedside table is a bottle of water, painkillers and a little note. However I feel worse that I had earlier. My body is now aching, my nose is stuffy, I also feel a little nauseous too. Still feeling extremely tired, I decided what’s best is to just have a bed day today.

12 hours later Connor returns home and I’ve got progressively worse, having to go to the bathroom a few times to throw up

“How are you feeling?”

“Like crap” I reply shivering in bed

“Have you eaten anything?” Connor asks sitting on the edge of the bed

“No. Been sick”

“Just drink the water slowly, little sips. Can I take your temp again?”

“Yeah” I sigh

“103.3 Jesus baby it’s going up”

“M’cold” I say wrapping the bedsheet round me more

“I know, but you can’t get to warm. Let me go and get some more Tylenol and water”

As the days go by Connor is amazing and thankfully with his help I start to feel better, however this flu does take it out of me. After 2 days I start to eat a little more, connors homemade soup has been a life saver, but I’ve been so tired. Connor has got me out of bed and in clean pyjamas

“Can you try and eat a bit more?” Connor asks looking at the soup in my bowl

“Not hungry”

“I know but you’ve got to eat. Just have 3 more mouthfuls”

“Fine” I give in knowing there’s no point in arguing with him

“Good. Once you’ve eaten then I’ll run you a bath and wash your hair for you. Then we can go to bed”

“And cuddle”

“Yes and cuddle”

“Thank you for looking after me”

“Always. April said she will come over tomorrow on her day off while I do my shift”

“I’ll be fine on my own”

“I know you, you’ll stay in bed all day, won’t eat and will probably forget to drink anything. Aprils coming over, end of story”

For the rest of the week Connor takes care of me, and I start to feel better, however I must of passed the flu to Connor because he’s now the one having to have someone check his temp. Nothing worse than a doctor getting sick because they won’t ask for help or let someone else take care of them. Connor may be stubborn, but so am I. It’s my turn now to look after my boyfriend and I can honestly say I don’t mind one bit.

[winterrrnight]

roller coasters

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you're deeply scared of roller coasters and are forced to take a ride on it. Rafe is there waiting for you, ready to take care of you once you get off.

WARNINGS: anxiety, throwing up, gets fluffy towards the end

EDITH SPEAKS: this is small, more or less like a blurb. I wasn't sure how to end it so I hope it isn't an abrupt ending? Anyways, I'll be writing for soft!rafe because he has my whole heart 🫶🏻

Please like and/or reblog if you enjoy it! Feedback is always appreciated 🌟 requests are OPEN, please send in some ideas :)

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Sarah grabs your hand and pulls you inside the amusement park. No matter how many times you say you don't want to get on the 'death ride', Sarah completely ignores you. Before you know it, you both are standing in the queue for the 'death ride'.

The roller coaster.

"Sarah come on I don't want to get on this ride!" You groan, trying to convince her to leave the queue and do something else instead.

"Come on, be a little bold! It's just a little ride!" Sarah says. The queue moves on ahead, and now it's your turn to get on the ride.

I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine. You repeat in your head, over and over again. It's just an amusement park ride, it cannot hurt me the way it used too.

You and Sarah are made to sit together in a seat. A worker comes and straps both of you in. You grip onto the rod in front of you so tightly your knuckles turn white. You feel your heart beating faster by each second, so you try to make yourself feel better by taking deep breathes.

"Are you... are you okay?" Sarah asks, concerned. You look at her with a deadpanned look on your face. She just realised you don't like roller coasters, even after you practically begged her not to take you on it?

"No I am not, Sarah," you say with gritted teeth. "The ride makes me-" Before you can finish your sentence, you are cut off with the creaky sounds of the roller coaster.

It is just about to start to move.

You hold onto the rod impossibly tighter and the roller coaster begins to gain speed. You see Sarah with a massive smile on her face, as she screams from the adrenaline rushing in her veins.

You will be screaming too.

Not from the adrenaline rushing in your veins, but from the contents of what you ate in lunch rising up from your stomach, to your mouth.

You shut your eyes tightly and just hope it comes to an end very soon. The roller coaster starts to slow down, and you feel hopeful that it's coming to an end as you open your eyes back again.

Oh, how wrong you are. How horribly wrong you are.

The ride has slowed down because it's about to go down the massive loop. You brace yourself as the ride inches closer and closer to the end.

"WE'RE ABOUT TO GO DOWN!" Sarah screams next to you.

And that's when you feel it. The contents in your stomach start churning and they are ready to come out at any given time. You just can't believe you came on a roller coaster, a ride which makes you extremely nauseous.

The first time you ever went on a roller coaster was when you were 7 years of age. You didn't stop puking after you got off the ride. After that, you vowed to never step on this ride and dubbed it as the 'death ride'. But, for some reason, you had a feeling you will not feel nauseous again, that maybe it only happened when you were little and had too much to eat.

But no, you get nauseous each time you step on this ride, and today has proved it.

The ride comes to an end and you basically yell at the worker to unstrap you quickly. Sarah has no time to catch up with you as you go running to the washroom.

You run past Rafe, who was just thinking of getting you some cotton candy. He's perplexed to see you running so frantically, with such a pale look on your face. He finds Sarah and questions her about you.

"What happened?" He asks. Sarah is panting heavily from all the running she did in an attempt to catch up with you.

"Roller coaster... queasy... about to throw up," she says, her breathing heavy as she leans next to a popcorn stand to catch her breathe. Rafe's eyes widen on her words and he rushes to the washroom, but stays outside to wait for you.

Meanwhile inside, you've hogged a bathroom stall as you let all the contents spill out. Once you feel everything in you has made its way out, you flush the puke and get out of the stall.

You walk to one of the wash basins and open the tap. You wash your face with the cold water and then rinse your mouth to rid yourself of the horrible taste. You take a second to breathe and look in the mirror. Most of the color is drained from your face. Your eyes are watery and a little red, and you feel like your skin is on fire. You stay in the washroom, just simply taking in deep breathes. When you think the color has started to return to your face, you decide to leave the washroom.

As you walk out of the washroom hurriedly, eager to find Sarah, you are met with a broad chest. You let out a small groan, but when you open your eyes you see it's no one other than Rafe.

"Oh Rafe, hi," you say with a smile.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concerned. "I saw you running down to the washroom and Sarah told me that you're feeling nauseated-"

"Yes I'm fine, don't worry about it." You assure him. At this point, there is no denying how you've been in love with Rafe since you've been best friends with Sarah and that means you've been in love with him since forever.

And Rafe, he cares so much about you. He can't see you hurt. He will protect you against everything horrible in this world.

"You sure? You still look a little pale," he walks closer to you and places his hand on your arm, and rubs it up and down. Th soothing motion relaxes you immediately. "If you want, I can drop you home. You can rest, and I'll bring you everything you may need to feel better-"

"Rafe," you cut him off, your hands now holding his face. "I'm okay, seriously. I want to explore more around the amusement park."

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat, a champagne pink suffusing in his cheeks from the warmth of your hands. "Okay," he says, and you bring your hands back to your sides. He instantly craves that touch back again. "I think Sarah is out there in the food stalls, shall we go there?"

"Yes," you smile, "let's go there." You reach for his hand, and ever so delicately, lace your fingers with his. You give his hand a tight squeeze. "Thank you for waiting for me."

"It's no problem, really," he tells you, and you both walk to the food stalls in the amusement park.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie

[moonswolfie]

Dinner time

timeskip!Osamu x gn!reader

Warnings: Reader is skinny, (past) verbal abuse, ED (?)

This is very self-indulgent and I haven't been diagnosed with an ED but my relationship with food can be seen as ED-like so I put the warning there

I was in an Osamu mood so I decided to write a sweet little story for him ahahasshahsah this man ≧ ﹏ ≦ (please excuse my horrible attempt at giving Osamu the accent)

Being married to Osamu was great. He treated you well, was an entertaining person and you got hooked up with the latest sibling drama straight from him.

But the one part that always bothers you is mealtime. Osamu is a great cook, which isn't surprising since he owns a restaurant and you love his food.

This would be great if Osamu wouldn't dote on you through his food so much. He always gave you the biggest servings to make sure you were well-fed and happy. It was his way of showing he loves and cares about you.

Your stomach couldn't handle large servings of food, it never could, even since childhood. Your parents always made fun of you and told you that you eat like a little baby, so you were scared he would make fun of you too if you told him.

So you tried your hardest to eat as much as you could every time, even if you weren't hungry at all or even if you felt like throwing up after. You ate even if you didn't have an appetite.

But it was worth it, seeing him smile happily while you were eating his food.

It was time for dinner again, something you grew to dread more and more.

You see, Osamu thought you enjoyed eating such big portions since you always finished them so fast when in reality you were trying to get it over with as quick as possible. So he thought he would make then even bigger.

You knew he just wanted to see you happy and that it made him very happy seeing you eat his food but you couldn't handle it anymore.

"Come here, darlin'. I cooked yer favourite." Osamu invited you to sit with him. You tried your best to hide your discomfort as you sat down across from him.

Looking at your plate, you already felt nauseous. He really did cook your favourite, but the amount...

You couldn't bring yourself to do it anymore. You ate slowly, and eventually stopped, just picking at your food to give the illusion of eating.

Osamu seemed to notice pretty quick, since his usual smile wasn't there. "What's wrong? Why aren't ya eatin'?" he asked, concerned.

"Samu, I can't do this anymore." you put down the chopsticks, looking at him with worry. He seemed taken aback and confused by the sudden change of behaviour on your end.

"What are ya talkin' about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Osamu, I've always had a really small appetite. I've never been able to handle big portions of food and I often feel sick after eating." you confessed, looking down at your plate. Now you're going to be made fun of, told you look like a twig, that you eat like a toddler. Maybe he'll tell you to stop being ridiculous and keep eating.

You closed your eyes in anticipation of whatever insult was going to be thrown your way.

"...Why didn't ya tell me that?" his question surprised you, opening your eyes to look at him. He looked concerned.

"I'm sorry it's just- You looked so happy when I ate all your food. I didn't want to let all the food you cook for me go to waste." you admitted, looking down at your plate again.

"So ya mean to tell me you've been forcin' yerself to eat all that food for months now." he crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. You shrunk under his gaze.

"Maybe... I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner, I-"

"What am I gonna do with ya? You gotta tell me these things, ya know?" he sighed, expression softening.

"...You're not mad?"

"Why would I be?" he looked at you as if you said something really ridiculous.

"My parents used to get mad at me when I didn't eat and called me a baby and a skeleton for eating so little." you didn't dare to look at him after you admitted that.

"Yer parents are assholes. Yer the one who knows yer body the best, I ain't gonna judge ya fer that." you couldn't stop the smile that crept up on your face. He was... okay with it?

"I'm just mad ya didn't tell me sooner. Now I feel bad for makin' you eat all that food." his eyebrows furrowed.

"No, don't feel bad. I was the one who didn't say anything and ate the food." you assured him with a relieved expression.

"Your food is amazing, I would just prefer if you gave me smaller portions from now on." you reached over the table to lightly grab one of his hands, squeezing it affectionately.

"I got ya. And by the way, yer body is beautiful." he said, squeezing your hand back.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 8/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Eight: Pain in the Head

I hung out with Tim's friends and worked on character sheets. I spent three hours there before I told Tim I had to go. I had a great time. Don't get me wrong. But I was nauseous and didn't want to be sick at his house. Ives planned on sleeping over at Tim's place, so I didn't have to feel bad about leaving him home alone. I got a ride to the manor, and Bruce sat on the porch waiting for me as soon as I arrived. "Where have you been?" Bruce asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, Bruce... Can I go inside now?" I asked.

"You're pale," Bruce replied.

I wanted to lie down and nap, but I could tell Bruce didn't plan on letting things go. I didn't have the time or energy to explain myself, so I did what any reasonable teenager would do. I made myself throw up and burst into tears. "Jason," Bruce sighed before helping me to the family room. He couldn't accuse me of anything while I was sick. That and throwing up stopped the onset of a migraine.

"I'm so sorry, Bruce-."

"It's fine... When is the last time you took-. I swore I wouldn't ask you that," Bruce replied.

"I didn't think I needed them anymore... I thought I'd been feeling better lately," I replied. Bruce felt my forehead.

"I've been home for two days, and you-. Jason, I'm sorry for walking out on you. I wasn't trying to hurt you... I'm-. Our bond is different from the bond I have with anyone else. I'm holding on for dear life with you... And I know I'm losing you. I feel like you're slipping away when I look at you.

"I can't take the thought of knowing you suffered because I chose to leave you alone that day. Jason, you're so precious to me... And I'm terrified that if I let you talk about what happened, you'll say what I've been most afraid to hear," Bruce confessed. I wasn't in the mood for a serious conversation, but he was finally willing to speak about what happened to me.

"I don't hate you... And I don't blame you for what happened. I've been trying to tell you all this time," I paused, "I'm sure Dick told you I wanna die sometimes... But you don't realize what I have to experience every day."

Bruce exhaled through his nose. "Go ahead..."

"I wake up under debris almost every day... And then I lie about my nerve pain, which I know everyone can see. By the time I get to the mirror, I'm already so disheartened by the countless efforts I've made to appear normal that I barely notice my scars anymore. When I shower, my skin still hurts like the burns are fresh, and I want to cry, but if I do, I'd never get anything done. Then, I come down for breakfast... And sometimes the medications I'm on make me so sick I don't want to eat, but I know I'd be worse off if I didn't.

"Then I go to school, and you wouldn't believe what they say about me," I swallowed hard.

"Jason-."

"But I endure it because I know I have to... What I can't stomach is the isolation. Don't ice me out, Bruce," I begged. Bruce sighed.

"I don't know how-. I can't pretend that almost losing you didn't change the entire way I had to look at our life. You can't be Robin anymore, Jason, and I feel awful for having to take that away from you," Bruce whispered.

"You're saying our, but you mean mine. How can you expect me to step down from being Robin when you can't even walk away from being Batman?" I asked.

"Jason, it's been over a year, and you're still healing. I can't risk putting you out in the field again. Gotham needs Batman-."

"Bullshit," I snapped.

"Language-." "Oh! Go to hell! I told you about all my issues, thinking you would finally see me, and I realized you're no better than the rest of them!" I yelled. I couldn't help but get mad. I should've seen it coming. He'd never had the guts to say it, but I knew this was his way of shutting me out for good. It pissed me off. I threw my crutches and hobbled upstairs.

"Jason! Jason, you can't-!"

"Screw you!" I yelled as I went to my room. I slammed the door and packed my bag. I almost forgot I felt sick. He saw me as weak. That was the worst thing he could've ever opened his mouth to admit. He was no better than everyone that gaped and gawked at me. I was his walking tragedy, and I'd be damned if I let him treat me like a ghost.

I started packing with tears in my eyes. I wanted to get out of there before I said something vile. "Jason, don't be like this! Please come out and talk to me-."

"Bruce, I need to get the hell away from you before I say something I regret!" I hollered. "And I guarantee that if you follow me, I will never come home! Leave my crutches and get away from me!" I sat down and texted Tim. He was the only person I could trust at that moment. I asked him to come to get me, and he texted me immediately. I waited in my room until Tim texted me, and I left my bedroom. Bruce left my crutches in front of the door and retreated like always. I slung my duffel across my body like a messenger bag, hoping it wouldn't throw me off balance.

I swung the door open and left it like that. Tim took my bag and opened his mouth to ask if I was okay, but he kept quiet. It was for the best because I was in a particularly heinous mood. I fell asleep in the car and woke up in Tim's guest room. He was on the floor with Ives, eating pizza. My head throbbed, and I felt sicker than I did earlier. Ives glanced at me and got up to turn the lights down. "Sorry, were we too loud?" Ives questioned.

"No, I-. How long have I been out?" I asked.

"Thirty minutes... Maybe an hour," Tim answered, "Do you need an aspirin?"

I pressed my palms against my eyelids. "No thanks... Tim, do you-? Who carried me in?" I asked.

"We both did. Tim got you out of the car but wasn't strong enough to get you up the stairs. It was a team effort," Ives answered, "You're heavier than you look." I let out a soft chuckle despite the pounding in my head.

"Know how I asked you to move in with me?" I questioned. "Could it still work if it were the other way around?"

"You wanna live here?" Tim asked. I nodded. "Alright." I was shocked. I thought he'd say no, but he looked thrilled.

[dudadragneel]

Omg I keep thinking about nauseous sick Hyunjin leaning on you and you can feel his breath hitch every time his stomach contracts because he feels like throwing up. You keep asking him if he wants to get up and move to the bathroom but he doesn’t want to🥹

- 🧶

Hello, dear 🧶!

Let's go!

It was just another usual day, you were at your house and Hyunjin was spending the weekend with you, since he had no schedules and you didn't have any work to do. It was supposed to be a chill afternoon with movies, games and cuddles. But to Hyunjin's misery, his body decided otherwise.

Something he ate the night before started to make him feel sick when he woke up in the morning. He felt nauseous all day and you barely managed to make him eat some light soup.

While you were cleaning the kitchen, because you didn't want to leave dirty dishes in the sink nor leave the house smelling of food, because it could make Hyunjin feel worse, he kept looking at you with those lost puppy eyes and your clentched at the sight.

- honey... please come stay with me...

- oh honey, dont do this please. It's not fair...I'll be there in a minute.

You quickly finished cleaning, got a blanket and sat on the couch with him.

- Can I lean in you? I feel better when I can feel you by my side...

- Very smooth, Hyune. Of course you can. Come on.

You said joking and motioning him to come closer to you. He leaned his head in your shoulder and you started playing with his hair.

- Aren't you gonna lie down?

- No...I feel nauseous.... I feel like I'll throw up if I lay down....

- Okay, honey...

You turned on the TV for a while to distract him from what he was feeling but as time passes, the sound and light from the tv were actually making him feel worse. Your turned it off and just turned your attention to giving him head pats and hand massages.

But whatever it was that he ate last night was now threatening to make an appearance. He felt hot liquid creeping up his chest and started to breather a little harsh. You couldn't help but notice the slight change is his behaviour, as you could feel his jaw clenching on your shoulder.

- Babe? Are you okay?

- hmm...I feel nauseous...

- Do you want to throw up?

- I'm not sure...I don't want to move around...

You didn't want to insist as you knew this could just upset him, as he was already feeling bad. However, things quickly escalated as he body was washed over with a strong nausea. He felt sour liquid at the back of his throat and he kept swallowing convulsively, trying to keep everything in. He unknowingly squeezed your hand as he did because he needed to feel grounded.

- Hyune? If you're gonna throw up let's go to the bathroom...

- I don't want to move...

He felt his stomach contract a little, and tried to surpass a gag, by doing so, squeezing your hand even harder.

- Babe? Are you gonna be sick?

He didn't answer but his body answered for you as he jolted a little as his stomach contracted again.

- Hyune, I swear to God, if you throw up on me after I've told you to go to the bathroom, I'll throw your Versace collection away.

Despite his misery, he managed to give you a little smile at the bold statement and obvious threat.

- come on babe. If you don't want to move, I'll take you.

You positioned yourself in front of him and motioned him to get on your back. Yes, he was a tall boy but fortunately you could take his weight.

- Just please, don't throw up on me.

You carefully walked to the bathroom with him on your back, not too slow and not too fast as so to not risk him being sick in the middle of the hallway and you.

In the bathroom, he got down from your back and leaned in front of the toilet and grabbed the edges of the seat for support. You tied his hair and put your hand under his shirt to rub his back as his stomach contracted, arching his back and sending back everything you'd managed to make him eat. It gushed out with so much force, it ended up getting on the edges of the seat.

- s-sorry...

He managed to say before gagging up another thick wave of pale vomit.

- It's okay. Don't worry about it. Just focus on getting everything that's making you feel bad, out.

He burped and a few seconds later gagged again, bringing up even more pale vomit. He couldn't even catch his breath before another stream made it's way out.

- Oh honey. My poor baby.

You said as you kissed his head and kept rubbing his back up and down and in circles.

He kept throwing up with very short breaks between bouts of vomit. It was safe to say you spent at least 40 minutes inside that bathroom.

- Babe? I think you're done. Let's take a shower and go to bed okay?

- Okay...

You helped him up and guided him to the bathtub and turned on the hot water. You waited outside to give him some privacy but you were ready to help if he needed.

He came out looking a little better, less pale and obviously tired. You took him to the bed and sat him down to dry his hair. As you dried his hair, he leaned on you and kissed your hand.

- I love you...

- I love you too, honey. How are you feeling?

- Better. I don't feel nauseous anymore just empty...

- That's good. It must've been what we ate yesterday. I was feeling weird as well but I'm fine.

- Babe?

- Hm?

- Is my Versace collection safe?

Both of you couldn't help but let out a nice laugh.

- I just can't with you Hyune!

You said laughing and gently smacking him on the shoulder and kissed him.

- Let's go to sleep you silly!

You two cuddled for the rest of that cozy night.

💜

[itszazouu]

safe besides you (sakusa kiyoomi x sick reader)

genre : hurt/comfort

character : timeskip!sakusa kiyoomi, gender neutral reader

warnings : mention of throwing up, sickness, insomnia, crying, loneliness

plot (established relationship): as you feel like getting sick you can’t help but miss your boyfriend who is away with his volleyball team for a major encounter. you try to deal with it on your own, but you feel way more safe when Kiyoomi is besides you 

   You feel lightheaded as you make your way back home. 

It was a long day at work and now you feel even worse. Before walking back home you made a quick stop at the nearest mall in order to buy groceries for tonight’s dinner and some medicine to relieve your pain.

Kiyoomi isn’t here tonight, like every other night this week. He is abroad with his volleyball team for the most important games of the season. He might come home during the dead night or maybe in the early morning.

You miss him, even though he called you every night during this week. Just when he’s about to begin his day and you to end yours. You miss his steady presence, his soft kisses when he thinks that you’re still asleep, his always so soft and genuine gestures toward you. You miss his soft smiles and loving eyes, his warm and comforting embrace, his dark and messy hair… Yeah you miss him. 

Tonight isn’t an exception. You open the front door only to face the silence of your shared house… ugh, you just need to eat, take your medicine, and go straight to sleep. 

As you make your way to the kitchen in order to put away your groceries, you feel like throwing up or fainting, maybe both at the same time. 

Crap, this is worse than you were thinking. You do the rest of the chores, because you know that an exhausted Kiyoomi would prefer coming back to a clean home, and decide to skip dinner. You’re feeling too nauseous anyway. 

 As you make your way through your bedroom, after taking some medicine, your phone vibrates. 

This is a message from Kiyoomi.

9:45 pm  Kiyoomi : hi, how are you doing tonight ?                                              how was your day ? 

9:46 pm  you : I’m fine honey thank you. Aren’t you on the plane already ? 

9:51 pm  Kiyoomi : good                                                                                      no, we will get on board in 10 minutes 

9:58 pm  you : oh okay then, I made dinner, it is in the fridge for you to heat up  when you’ll  come back 

9:58pm  Kiyoomi : thanks darling, you should go to sleep I won’t be home      before  late                                                                                                              I love you

9:59 pm you : yes, don’t worry kiyo, I love you too

You put your phone on the bedside table and slide under your bed sheets, desperately trying to warm yourself up and to fall asleep. You need rest, you know that, but you can’t help yourself from feeling lonely in your king sized bed, without the warm body of Kiyoomi. You sound so pitiful right now, but you’re sad and you need the raven haired boy. Even though you know that being sick won’t be very appealing for him and his fear of germs. 

Yes, through the years of dating him you grew accustomed to his fears and habits and he tried his very best to open up to you concerning those matters but that doesn’t mean he likes it when you’re sick. Because he loves you and seeing you in pain isn’t something he particularly appreciates and because who likes being near sick people anyway… 

You toss and turn in the bed. It is almost midnight and you feel worse than before. Cold sweat runs along your back and your head is spinning like crazy. You get up from bed and go to the bathroom in order to freshen up a bit. 

After splashing some cold water on your face, you go back to bed and decide to text Sakusa. Just because you can, and because you’re feeling very bad right now. 

12:10 pm you : hey, love I hope your trip back home is doing ok so far and that you’re not too  tired

No response… he’s either asleep on the plane, in a cab on his way home, or trying to deal with his loud teammates. Dejected and exhausted, you try to go back to your slumber. 

You wake up way later, the room is silent except for the background noises of the street. Besides you, to your delight, lay Kiyoomi. Your sweet Kiyoomi, fast asleep, looking exhausted but peaceful. You snuggle against him and sigh in delight. 

Wait… your stomach turns up in an unpleasant twist and you feel the urge to throw up. You detangle yourself from Sakusa and get up from bed as fast and quietly as possible. You reach the bathroom just in time to close the door and empty your guts down the sink. 

After some time you try to regain some composure in order to go back to bed, but you hear a faint knock on the bathroom door. Shit, you woke him up. 

“y/n, darling, are you ok ?” says Kiyoomi in a faint voice, still tainted by sleep. 

You feel guilty, you woke him up from his much needed sleep. He sounds exhausted, but most of all concerned. 

“I’m fine Kiyoomi, go back to sleep honey, I’ll be here in a minute.” you sigh as you sit up from the bathroom floor. 

He protests, “No, y/n you’re not. I heard you throwing up, can I come inside ?” 

“Kiyoomi, I’m sick, I’m full of germs, you don’t wanna come near me I swear.” you respond on the verge of tears. Because you’re exhausted, you feel like shit and just want a warm hug from your lover. You try, unsuccessfully, to muffle back your sob but Kiyoomi doesn’t buy it. 

“y/n, I’m going to enter okay ?”  you hear from the other side of the door, as you hear the doorknob turning. 

He’s here, in his pajamas, more like an old shirt and a boxer, standing right in front of you, closing his eyes as the sudden brightness of the bathroom light. His curls stick at odd angles and he looks as beautiful as ever. 

You quickly wash your palms, to prevent him from touching your hands that have touched the sink full of vomit. 

He makes his way towards you carefully, and takes your cheeks in his hands, examining your pale face. 

“y/n darling, you’re sick” he locks his dark eyes in your tired ones as you scoff  “yeah, no kidding.”

To your surprise, Kiyoomi tenderly kisses your forehead. 

The tall man makes his way towards the bathroom closet and takes some medicine from it. He hands you a couple of pills and you swallow without questioning him, trusting him for those matters. 

“I’m so sorry Kiyo, for waking you up and making you deal with this, I know you don’t like it and you must be exhausted.” you feel your eyes fill up again with tears as you try to steady yourself because of the lack of sleep.

“y/n, my love you’re sick, you needed me, I’m sorry I couldn’t answer your text, my phone is dead, but I’m here now” he says tenderly while pampering your face with kisses and as you sob uncontrollably.

This is so unlike him to come over his fear and approach you, even though you’re ill. It makes you cry even more as you feel him embrace you in a tight and warm hug and whispering

“I love you y/n and I don’t want you to deal with this alone, now come on you need to rest.” He leads you out of the bathroom which is connected to your bedroom and pushes you gently towards the bed. 

As you lay down under the fresh sheets of your bed, Sakusa pulls you in a tight embrace and rests his lips on your forehead. There, in the warmth of your dear boyfriend, you finally feel at ease. You know that it’s where you belong to and that you’ll always feel safe beside him, in sickness and in health.

[sirfrogsworth]

I'm still not feeling great, but I really needed groceries. So I forced myself to go last night, which was a really bad idea considering I hadn't recovered from post-exertional malaise as it was.

But I didn't have much food due to stalling for so long. I know I could do delivery or have someone pick stuff up, but I really need to walk around and pick things out. If I am not in the mood for something I won't eat it. I can be picky that way. And then it spoils and I have to throw it out. It's just better if I go to the store and find things that my brain has a craving for.

It just seems like whenever I have the least energy and I try to do a short, simple trip out of the house, I have all of these mini-adventures that make it not as short and simple.

In this case, I didn't even make it out of my driveway before the adventures began. I got in the car there was a warning my tire pressure was low. And usually it isn't that bad and I can just fill up the tires when I have more energy. But one tire was extremely low, so I didn't want to chance it.

I wish I knew why my tires lose air so fast. Seems like I fill them every week or two. I read it could be bad valve stems. But like, on all the tires? I'll save that mystery for another day.

Unfortunately putting air in my tires is just about the hardest task for me specifically. Even if I sit on a stool, I have to bend down in a way that pushes my belly against my lungs. I run out of breath very quickly and so I have to go up and down many times to finish filling the tire. By the end of filling all 4 tires, I was sweating, exhausted, out of breath, light headed, and nauseous.

I really need to find a better way to fill my tires. I could try sitting on the ground, but standing up from the ground is not always easy for me and I'd have to do it 4 times.

I wonder if there is a place I can tip someone to do it.

I digress.

I make it to Sam's and I am struggling before even walking in the store. And they have gigantic shopping carts that take much more energy to push around. Schnucks has these little baby carts that are great for when you need a few items. I guess Sam's assumes if you are going to a bulk store you are going to buy in bulk.

I get my sushi and my brownie bites and everything else and head towards checkout. I have a bit too much stuff for self checkout to make sense, so I get in line.

On one side of me was a guy who was impulse buying a 65" TV. Which is a really bad idea. You should never buy any electronics without researching it first. (Or ask me. Everyone should always ask me before buying technological items.) He was buying a TV that was made to be thin. And if he needed a super thin TV, and he couldn't afford an OLED, it was an okay choice. But for the same price he could get a thicker TV with much better image quality. There was a part of me that wanted to take him back over to the TV aisle and help him make a better decision. But my anxiety thought of about 30 ways that could have backfired and I was barely standing.

And then there was this cart in front of me...

Seriously?

Is there a midwestern hurricane headed this way or something?

I don't even understand how they did this.

This isn't Tetris. This is... overstuffing a turkey.

I'm a little worried about those eggs too.

Thankfully a new lane opened up and I didn't have to wait 30 minutes for them to figure out how to deal with that.

I did try to use my amazing Tetris skills to arrange my items so the bar code was visible for each one. (I probably could have done self checkout, I guess.) Last time the lady thanked me for making it so easy for her. So I was waiting for this lady to pull out her laser shootie price gun and start zapping my stuff.

But she unloaded everything in my cart onto the conveyor.

My shopping cart Tetris skills went unnoticed and she had to do 3 times the work.

Then I get out to the parking lot and a bunch of carts are all blocking the disabled parking space for people with rear-loading wheelchairs.

I tried to move some of them as I went by. I just didn't have the energy to put them all in the receptacle. But even if they are in the yellow zone, that is where they need to unload the wheelchair. I'm just so tired of people being inconsiderate like this.

And I also see a lot of disabled people without wheelchairs using this space. I suppose if it is the only one available, but this is such a great accommodation for wheelchair users. It is much safer to unload away from traffic. I would rather park in the back of the lot than take this option from someone.

Oh, and Schnucks has one of the disabled spots reserved for police and that makes me so mad too. They can double park if there is an emergency. I never see a cop car in that space and so many people could be using that.

Sorry, after pushing my dad around for a year I have become very sensitive to this.

I really wanted to drive straight home, but I still needed some soup and black cherry soda from Schnucks. I probably should have gone back a different day, but sometimes a different day isn't for weeks. So I just got it all done at once. Plus I really wanted to try that Vess black cherry.

Sorry, RefresCoVesScnhucks™ Black Cherry Soda.

I've been pretty sore all day. And I'm still not prepared for the second house auction. And people are coming to pick stuff up from the first auction on Friday. The house is a mess again. Half the groceries aren't put away.

I'm going to need to pull my lantern battery out of the pocket dimension to charge myself back up.