#okay fine ill just get a belt

[fella-lovin-fella]

tried to buy pants bc i don't have ANY that fit me, like genuinely none but the store didn't have ANY in my size except for one pair and i didn't like them >:(

[sukunas-wife]

HI OML I LIVE UR WORKS THEY MAKE ME BAWL MY EYES OUT AH 😭

can you please do sukuna reader and yuji going in the caffe and yuji trying hot chocolate for the first time ?

i literally live you so much <3

🥹 ILL DO IT DO IT FOR BABY YUJI

“What the hell, why?” Sukuna eyed you suspicious of your question.

“Ryomen Sukuna-” covering your toddlers ears you gave his dad a look. “You walk around shirtless with four arms and two faces at 8 foot whatever everyday, I’m just asking you to down size and lose the second pair of arms for maybe 2 hours.”

Sukuna grumbled crossing his arms over his chest taking his son when he reached out for his dad “Shame I’m the only one who walks around shirtless in this house.” Holding Yuji on one arm the ruffled his boys hair, “What do you say brat? Do we go do whatever your mom wants or do we rip our shirts off?”

“Shirts!” Yuji screamed immediately trying to rip his shirt to copy his already shirtless dad. “That’s my boy!” Sukuna cheered him on when he managed to tear the hem slightly, “We don’t wanna go, two against one remember that parable or something you read a cord of 2 or whatever.” Sukuna turned away from your cold glare propping Yuji on his shoulder “It’s not like we really belong in public anyways.”

You huffed, looking down, sniffling, the tears burning your eyes as they start to roll and you took a shaky breath “Ryo please, I just wanted to spend some time with you and Yuji at the cafe where I first saw you. Yuji hasn’t seen the city and I just wanted one maybe two hours of your time but you won’t even do that..” your shoulders shaking as you tried to not cry, Yuji who was piggy backing on his dad’s broad shoulders pulled his hair “You made mommy cry!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes sighing heavily, “crying won’t solve your problems y/n, I said no.” Yuji pouted tugging he dad hair as if they were reigns to a horse, “daddyyy” he whined and leaned over his dads head to look at him.

Sukuna huffed before trying to gently flip his brat onto the bed “Stop you’re not helping.” Yuji giggled before running over to you, wedging his body between your knees to hug your waist, “It’s okay mommy we can still go, daddy doesn’t have too.” You sniffled rubbing Yuji’s back, “My sweet little Yuji.” Your teary eyes broke Sukuna when he finally looked at you, “FINE. Im killing anyone who gets in my way.” You smiled standing up and taking Yuji’s hand, “Good we’ll be waiting at the entrance.” You placed a quick kiss on Sukuna’s cheek and he just looked at you in disbelief, “You turned my own blood on me with your fanciful tears, disgusting.” He side eyed you as you closed the room door not hearing or seeing him smirk “What a woman.”

He stood there before calling for Uraume to come get his robes ready, he’d be needing smaller attire for the day.

❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️

It didn’t take long for Sukuna to alter his appearance. He stood in a simple wide armed white Robe with a printed belt and plain scarf. On his shoulders was a giggling Yuji who kept reaching up to the passing branches his chubby hands smacking Sakura branches making them shake and fall. On the occasion step Sukuna would purposely shake him to make him hold tighter and scream. You’d smile watching until you got to the city, “let’s hurry! It’s just before lunch.” You hugged Sukuna’s arm, looking up at him with that damn smile, he caved “Hold on brat.”Yuji immediately gripped tightly to his dad’s hair as Sukuna hoisted you up, “I’ll make this quick.”

It felt like a breeze to before you refocused and Sukuna was already putting you down keeping Yuji on his shoulders. “Down.” Yuji bounced on his dad’s shoulders. “No, if I put you down you’re just going to run around.” You smiled at Sukuna placing a hand on his arm, “Sit down with him Ryo I’ll do everything else.” Sukuna looked at you with his usual resting face that looked like a frown, Yuji unknowingly matting his dad’s hair while he played with it. Sukuna caved leaving your side to sit in a corner booth away from everyone, he crossed his arms over his chest after he put Yuji down to sit next to him. Yuji smacked his hands on the table “daddy!” “Hm.” Looking down at his son “That’s man’s talking to mommy!” He stood up in the bench one chubby hand smacked on the table the other chubby finger pointing at a man talking to you, “That’s the cashier brat.” “…. oh…. WHAT ABOUT HIM!” He pointed to man who was now talking to you, you had a forced smile and almost a sympathetic look, “Go bite him.”

There went Yuji throwing himself under the table running to fight his dad’s battles, “for daddy!” Was all you heard before you watched the man in front of you yelp and shake his leg, looking down you saw Yuji clinging to the man’s pant, jaw locked on his thigh almost growling. “Yuji.” You forced back your smile coughing to cover a laugh. “Baby let go.” He side eyed you when you grabbed his sides and he let go, standing up you held Yuji’s hand, “Like I said this is my son and that’s my husband.” The man turned to find Sukuna staring at hin with more than an intimidating look, “forgive me.” The man bowed his left and quickly moved off, you smiled down at Yuji ruffling his messy hair, “My little knight in shining armor hm?” He puffed out his chest smiling “yeah!”

After you grabbed your tray with drinks and let Yuji carry the paper bag of sweets you ordered, you made your way to the booth where Sukuna was staring aimlessly out the window. Watching as Yuji slid into your side of the booth you set the drinks down, “Black coffee with 6 packs of sugar,” you turned to Yuji smiling pulling him into your lap “I got you some special, the waitress has to bring it okay?” He nodded “okay!” He still hadn’t let go of the paper bag Sukuna had been silently eyes as he drank his Coffee, “hand em over.”

You sighed smiling watching your husband try to pry the paper bag from Yuji’s hands, Yuji who slipped off your lap holding the bag to his chest and turning away, “no!”

“Here are your drinks! Two hot chocolates one kids with extra whipped cream.” The waitress quickly left after seeing how your husband was playing tug o war with Yuji who was standing on the booth seat. “Listen brat-” Yuji let the bag go mouth and eyes opening wide as he saw the pile of cream on the short cup, “What’s that?” Bringing his tiny fists to cover his mouth you could see the sparkle in his eyes, “I want you to try it.” He sat himself in your lap reaching for cup that you slowly put in his chubby hands. He spread his fingers over the cup “it’s hot.” “It is, so be careful.” You guided the cup supporting it from below when he tried of drink from it. The first thing to happen was mushing his face into the whipped cream that made you laugh and Sukuna scoffed with a slight smile. Pulling the cup away, “Let’s try to clear some of that up,” you took a spoon scooping out a dent in the whipped cream to see the hot chocolate, bringing to spoon to Yuji he opened his mouth wide. You watched as he closed his mouth and his eyes widened and he clapped his hands “Is good! Daddy! Try!” You both looked at Sukuna, the smile on his face unfaltering as he rested his face against his propped up hand, “You try it first brat.”

Yuji nodded looking determined “I will!” Taking the cup in both hands, your hand guiding the cup, you saw how he stuck his tongue out to test both chocolate first before starting to drink. You looked at Sukuna who looked equally as shocked when your son started to take bigger brinks. When he put the half empty cup down he let out a loud “Aahhh dalichous.” (Delicious) Your smile couldn’t be held back as your peppered the side of his face you could reach with kisses “Look at my little man,” you placed a kiss on his cheek, “so grown you have a little mustache.” He giggled at your kisses shaking in your hold. “Try it daddy…” Yuji wiggled out of your lap just to run to Sukuna, trying to climb into his lap. Sukuna who wanted to resist couldn’t when Yuji looked at him with those big pleading eyes and pulling and on his sleeve, something he definitely learned from you. Sukuna rolling his eyes let Yuji into his lap grumbling about how he better not get comfortable. You watched as Sukuna opened his mouth, his free hand guiding Yuji’s so he could drink from the cup. Yuji’s closed eye smile making Sukuna waver, “it’s… good.” You and Sukuna both watched as Yuji never shifted off his dads lap, holding his cup with two chubby hands drinking and eating pecan cookies until his tummy with round and he fell asleep leaning back against his dads chest. Watching as Ryo held Yuji against his chest, you couldn’t help but awe.

The rest of your visit with your husband was filled with Yuji’s soft snoring, as you both talked quietly about how much things had changed, Sukuna suggesting another child, preferably another boy. You rolled your eyes and would’ve swatted him if Yuji wouldn’t have been cradled against him. Soon enough you all got up ready to go. The quiet snores because Sukuna had fixed Yuji to let his chest on his, and his head tucked between his neck and shoulder. “You’ll stay warm like this.”

Your walk home was peaceful, Yuji was sleeping, drooling on his daddy without a care in the world and you were hugging Sukuna from his side. His free arm moving to hug your waist and keep you warm and with him, he looked down at you, that mischievous smirk, “So, about that second son-“ he was hit with falling snow that had you laughing so hard you had to stop the breath, “We’ll see.”

🖤❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️🖤

Ty everyone and for my tag list! My Brains been everywhere but i try!

Sorry it’s so long! I need some background lol

@cyder-puff @domainofmarie @satorisgirl @sad-darksoul the other 2 wouldn’t let me tag!

I’m sorry 🤍 but tyty for everything

[inez-winchester-cameron]

omg pls write more of what you just posted of rafe with that age gap it's sooo hot 😭 like something about the reader being bratty on purpose and sassing him

cw: dark!rafe x younger!reader, 29 and 19, non-con/rape, drug use, intoxicated reader, talks of free use and public sex, abusive relationship

note: is this too dark, yes or no

rafe HATES when you disobey at parties. ever since you two have started dating, you have a bad habit of misbehaving at parties to get more attention from rafe. whether that be overdrinking, snorting coke, smoking weed, or flirting with other guys. all of these being things that you KNOW rafe disapproves of.

tonight, it happened to be a mix of all of them. you went to the restroom and came back to rafe talking with one of his ex girlfriends, sofia. you completely being oblivious to the fact that he was telling her off. you huff and head back into the room where topper and kelce sit.

they're doing lines and drinking, sitting on opposite sides of a loveseat.

"hey, y/n, have a seat," topper politely greets you, gesturing to an empty chair beside the loveseat but you smile and sit inbetween topper and kelce. they give eachother a look but say nothing.

"whatcha guys doin?" you ask, looking over toppers shoulder as he sets up a line.

"coke, nothing you should concern yourself with."

"yeah rafe would kill us if he knew you were anywhere near this," kelce comments.

"hes too busy bein up sofia's pussy to care. can i do a line?"

kelce and topper both look at you at this comment, a little shocked. they knew rafe and how loyal he was to you, he never even so much as entertained another girl.

"you saw him up her pussy?" kelce asks, confused.

"well no but- it doesnt even matter, just let me do a line."

"sweetheart i dont think-" topper starts.

"pleaseeeeee?" you beg, giving him puppy eyes.

topper sighs and glances to kelce who shrugs. eventually topper responds, "okay fine, sweetie, but you cannot tell rafe."

"i won't, promise! ill even pinky promise if you want!"

topper stares at you for a moment, finding your innocence both endearing and hot at the same time. too bad you aren't his. topper sets up a line for you and gently guides you onto your knees in front of the table. he gives you the dollar bill and guides you as you snort it. you let it sit for a minute, not feeling anything, then it hits. and you want more.

"again!" you say, looking at topper, feeling your brain begin to buzz.

"yeah no i don't-"

"what the fuck are you doing?"

your eyes shoot to the doorway. rafe stands there, arms crossed, hair messy, blood on his knuckles, and he looks pissed.

"rafey!" you greet him, trying to pretend you didn't just snort cocaine. you stand up, swaying, and subsequently falling back onto the couch.

"what the fuck guys?" rafe questions, walking over to you. he looks pissed, "how much did you give her?"

"just a line, man, she asked for it. quite literally," kelce speaks first and topper agrees.

"i didn't know you don't let her do that man, im sorry-" topper defends himself and rafe shakes his head, calming down a bit.

"nah you're good, man. it's her fault. come on, princess, we have some business to discuss." rafe says through gritted teeth, roughly grabbing your arm and heading to his room. once you're upstairs and away from people, he starts scolding you, "what the fuck were you thinking? you know so much better than that."

"you were talking to Sof-"

"yeah i was telling her to go suck a fucking dick. then i beat the shit out of her boyfriend for calling you a whore. but maybe he was right, you don't think about anyone but yourself, huh? always just assuming. saw the way you were staring at top." rafe speaks with no sympathy and you two slip into his bedroom. he presses you down onto the bed, holding your hands behind your back as he flips your little skirt up, "no panties? you fucking serious? god what is wrong with you? you stupid little whore."

you hear his belt unbuckle and your head continues buzzing from your high. soon enough, you feel his cock, pushing into you. it's immediately too much.

"rafe-! no no no-"

"don't tell me fucking no, bitch. act like a whore, get treated like one. maybe i should've just fucked you downstairs," rafe starts, setting a fast pace with his thrusts, not hearing any of your protests, "or maybe i should tie you up down there, let all these drunk men use your holes since you wanna disobey. i think that's a fair punishment, huh? i try to be nice and defend your honor and you make eyes at two of my best friends. fucking bitch."

"rafe i didn't- i don't want this- stop!" you beg but rafe doesn't care. he simply tugs your hair in response as you start crying. your head is pounding and it's all too much.

"that's it, cry for it, bitch. this is my fucking pussy and i'm gonna use it when i want. now whine one more time and i'm gonna make this pussy free use to the entire island."

you whimper and stay quiet in response. you think about leaving rafe, but you can't, you love him and maybe you even secretly loved being fucked against your will.

[marksmelodies]

Haiiiii

I luv ur blog sm! 💕💕🙈🙈

Can you do dreamies reactions to accidentally getting you pregnant?

PLZ IM BEGGING YOU

hiii thank you so much 😽 i had so many requests for this so i hope you all enjoy 💓

mark

he would be shocked.. in total disbelief but still supportive

“IM HOME BABE” mark yells through your apartment, your loud sobs lead him to the bathroom that you are in, mark walks through the door seeing you sitting on the toilet seat with your head in your hands “ what’s wrong sweetheart” mark kneels down to see your face “ im pregnant” you say muffled “you’re what?” mark says moving your hands away from your face “im pregnant” you say hesitantly repeating yourself looking to the ground, mark stays silent for a moment, processing everything that he just heard before speaking again “i love you” he blurts out, you look down at him a little confused at his random confession “ i love you so much, at the end of the day its your decision on what you want to do, i’ll support you no matter what you decide” he moves closer engulfing you into a big hug

renjun

he would be so down to earth & serious about it, he wouldn’t hold back asking the hard questions

“we’re going to be parents?” he asks, his voice low and stern “yes jun” you say coming to terms with it yourself “and you’re sure want to keep it?” you answer again “yes i do” he smiles at you placing a kiss to your temple “are you ready to be a mom, im not saying that you aren’t i just want you to know that is isn’t just something temporary, from this point forward our lives are going to change forever, are you ready for that?” he asks “yes renjun im ready, are you?” you ask he takes a second to reply “i’ve always wanted a life with you, i always wanted a family and you to be the mother of my children” he says kissing you “im still in shock but im ready to become a dad, ill try and be the best person i can be for you and our child, i love you so much” you giggle at him “i love you more junnie”

jeno

he wouldn’t have much to say in the moment, he would immediately make sure you understand how much he loves you and supports you

coming home from a long practice, jeno walks through the front door and straight to your shared bedroom, he finds you folding laundry on the bed “hey babe” he says putting his belongings down and walking over to you placing a kiss to your forehead, he walks into the attached bathroom as he takes off his belt and begins to discard his clothes, you finally get the courage to speak “jeno i need to talk to you when you’re done showering” you say “alright” he replies as he closes the door separating you from him as he gets in the shower, your stomach drops as you hear the water turn off and your boyfriend exiting the bathroom in nothing but a towel around his waist “what did you need to talk about” he asks standing in the bathroom doorway, you stare at him on the bed “get dressed first” you say as he begins to put shorts and a shirt on before walking over to you on the bed, he sits down on the edge “ jeno” you whisper before tears stream down your face “im pregnant” you say as tears being to spring from your eyes, jeno doesn’t say anything he just puts you on his lap and rubs your back until you calm down “look at me” jeno says “we will figure this out together, you’re not alone in this” he says placing a kiss to yours lips

haechan

his immediate instinct is to check on you, completely disregarding the information you just laid on him

“i’m pregnant donghyuck” as the words leave your tongue haechans heart drops, he rushes over to you “are you okay? are you in pain? do you feel sick? can i do anything to help?” you found this gesture cute, “yes babe i’m fine but did you hear me? i’m pregnant” you say questioning him “yes i heard you love, do you want to keep it?” he asks fiddling with the hem of his shirt “yeah i do, this is our baby hyuck” you say looking at your belly. hyuck smiles bending down to your tummy “hi baby it’s your daddy, i know you’re so small but soon you’ll grow so big, i’ll make sure mommy is super healthy so that you can be too!” he says rubbing your belly “i can’t wait to see you as a dad, it’s already so hot, it’s making me want to get pregnant again and i just found out about this one” haechan lets out a laugh “wow slow it down baby you’re not even a month in, let’s see if you say the same thing after giving birth” your eyes shoot open as a gasp leaves your mouth “oh my god, i’m going to have to give birth, i forgot about that part, wait now im scared” you say panicking “don’t worry baby, ill be there with you every step of the way” haechan pulls you into another hug kissing the top of your head

jaemin

he would hold back tears

“i’m gonna be a dad” jaemin says looking at you, you expected him to be scared shitless but to your surprise his face is plastered with a smile from ear to ear “oh baby, we’re gonna be a mommy and daddy” he pulls you into a hug before looking at you again “wait, you want this right, you want the baby?” jaemin questions, “yes jaemin, i’ve always wanted to be a mom, even though this wasn’t planned i’m happy, reallly happy, especially since you’re the dad, i wouldn’t want to have anyone else’s baby” you smile at him “well i would hope not, oh y/n you’re gonna look so pretty all pregnant. i can’t wait to see them grow inside you, i can’t wait to meet them” you kiss his lips “you’re gonna be a great dad jaemin” “not as good as you mama”

chenle

surprisingly good at not freaking out given the situation at least on the outside

it all started with morning sickness

“jesus babe” chenle jumps out of bed rushing to the bathroom after hearing you begin to throw up, quickly he kneels down next to you holding your hair up and rubbing your back “this is the third time this week you’ve thrown up” chenle says worried “i think i have a stomach bug or something” you say wiping your mouth with a wet washcloth

you began to notice how every little thing made you nauseous, especially the smell of certain foods

“babe come here and try this” your boyfriend yells as you approached him, walking to the pot of food on the stove you take a deep breath before being completely disgusted, not that the food smelled bad, not at all, it was one of your favorite dishes but for some reason, all of the sudden you felt like you could puke at any moment “chenle i can’t i feel sick” you say making gagging sounds “wow okay you could’ve just told me the food looks awful” chenle rolls his eyes “what has gotten into you all of a sudden the smell of food makes you nauseous?” chenle asks laying with you on the couch as he rakes his hands through your hair “im telling you lele i think im sick or something” you brush him off

the eye opener was when you missed your period

“chenle i don’t want to go im supposed to get my period” you say as your boyfriend tries to convince you to go out with his friends, “please baby just go have a good time with your friends” you say laying in bed “no y/n i’m not going without you, if you don’t want to go then neither do i”

that was almost a week ago and yet your period was no where to be found

sitting on the bed you begin to put all the pieces together 1. morning sickness 2. weak stomach 3. missing your period and not to mention the excessive peeing

your stomach dropped at the realization “CHENLE” you scream as your boyfriend runs into the room “yes babe” he says frantically, you stare at him for a second before speaking “i think im pregnant” you say as your face drains, chenles eyes go wide “ you think you’re what?…pregnant?” he asks shocked “okay hold on i’ll be right back” he says grabbing his jacket and walking to the door “where are you going” you grab his arm causing him to turn to you “i’m getting a test, just wait here and drink a lot of water” he said before walking out the door

the minutes went by rather slowly, looking at the clock ticking on the wall, finally the front door opened and chenle appeared with a box in his hand “go pee on this” he hands you the pregnancy test and you make your way to the bathroom, chenle follows you into the tiny room as you sit on the toilet “could you look away” you scoff to your boyfriend as he stares at you “when it comes to you i’ve seen all there is, just piss already” he rolls his eyes

silence fills the air as you finish you place the stick onto the counter upside down waiting for it to process, you sit next to chenle on the edge of the bathroom, looking to your boyfriend as he grabs your hand lacing his fingers with yours rubbing his thumb on the top of your hand

the five minutes are up as chenle looks to you “do you want to look first or me?” he asks, you take a deep breath walking over to the counter, hand shaking you pick up the stick turning it over as your eyes meet the word “pregnant” plastered across it, immediately chenle can tell the result by the look on your face “it’s not right, we need to buy another one, this is false” you begin to sob as you leave the bathroom in attempt to go buy more tests but before you could walk out the front door chenle grabs your arm and pulls you into a big hug “the test isn’t wrong y/n, you’re pregnant baby” he says looking down at you “all the signs were there we just looked right past them” he squeezes you a little bit as he rubs your back, your sobs begin to calm, chenle leads you over to the couch “look at me” he says lifting your chin to face him “don’t worry about anything other than this baby, i promise i will handle it all, i love you, i won’t let anything happen to you” he says looking into your eyes as he leans into a kiss

jisung

he would freak out at first

“no wait this isn’t happening” jisung says pacing the room back and forth, “im gonna die, my mother will kill me” he continues walking around the room slightly pulling on his hair as he whispers to himself about how stupid he is for getting into this situation, jisung got so caught up with himself he completely forgot about you, his heart dropped thinking about how scared you must be and his reaction isn’t helping, jisung walks over to the bed where you are sat against the headboard staring into space as a single tear rolls down your cheek“im sorry” jisung sighs “i want you to know this isn’t your fault, im not upset with you” you look to him with a blank expression “i don’t know where to go from here jisung” you say as your voice trembles “im scared” you whisper almost ashamed to admit, jisung pulls you into a hug “i’ll be right by your side with whatever you decide. i’ll support you no matter what baby”

akauahahhsja the chenle stans (me) are lucky today because i could not stop on his part, the words just kept coming it may also be because im absolutely obsessed with dad chenle

[junrenjun]

but even after this, you're still everything to me

choi seungcheol x reader, formula 1 au

genre: heavy angst

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem reader, enemies to lovers, misogyny, death threats

a/n: another request by @straykidsstanforeverandever. lot's of heavy f1 jargon and such in this. if you aren't super in tune with f1, there may some references you don't understand. read with caution. title is a lyric from the grudge by olivia rodrigo.

Imola has always been one of your least favorite tracks to drive. And after today, you never want to come near it again. Maybe you’ll fake an illness when the time comes around next season. It would be nice to let the development drivers get some real racing time and you wouldn’t have to drive this cursed track again. 

A voice in your ears distracts you from the little pity party you’ve started in your brain. “Are you okay y/n?” 

Your race engineer’s question reminds you that your radio is being publicized on live television right this moment. Sighing, you quickly respond, “yeah Will, I’m fine. Today’s just not my day.”

The answer is half-hearted, but the man knows better than to question you right now, when you’re being recorded. He settles with, “okay, red flags are out for you. You can hop out of the car when you’re ready.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. But life is tough and Formula 1 is tougher, so you undo your belts and pull yourself out of the car. You take a minute to inspect your blown out tire, before taking your helmet off. Marshals surround you, asking if you are alright, but you brush them off. You just want to be back in your driver’s room already. 

The journey back to the paddock is a painful one, both mentally and physically. Your knee is throbbing from where it hit against the side of the car on impact. You pray the cameras don’t pick up your limp. It takes all of your energy not to cry when you see the pitying expressions of the rest of the McLaren crew. Another potential win out the window, just like that. 

The rest of the race passes by in a flash. Between going to medical as per your trainer’s request (the cameras did in fact pick up the limp) and changing out of your race suit, you only catch the last three laps. One of the Mercedes cars wins by practically a mile. And it’s fucking Choi Seungcheol of all people. 

You have half a thought to turn the TV in your driver’s room off the second he crosses the finish line, but you don’t. You’re itching to hear whatever dumb thing he says in his interview today. The man is a walking PR nightmare. 

Sure enough, the camera is chasing after him the second he steps out of the car. After a few second water break, he turns to the interviewer, who asks him, “Great win today Seungcheol. You worked your way up from 5th to 1st within a few laps today. How does that feel?”

“It feels great. I mean I couldn’t have done it without y/n’s tire of course…”

You turn the TV off, cutting him off the second he mentions your name. Slumping back even more on the couch, you throw an arm over your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Whatever possessed you to choose a male dominated sport?

You’re thrown out of your thoughts once again by a voice from your doorway. “At least it was kind of a compliment, eh?”

When you peek out from under your arm, Oscar is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. You remove your arm from your face, scooting farther down the couch and patting the spot next to you. The Aussie moves to join you. 

After a few moments of silence you turn to face him. “You made it back to the paddock pretty fast.”

It’s his turn to groan this time. “I retired 7 laps from the end. Engine failure. I was in 3rd.”

You hum, wistfully. Then turn to look out the window. “Bad day to be Papaya, I guess. Think we can convince Jungwon and Pato to take our places at Imola next season? I think I have PTSD from this track now.”

Oscar simply snorts in response. For the small amount of time remaining before you have to face the nightmare that is media duty, you simply enjoy sulking together. 

A little less than a week later, you’re standing on one of your all-time favorite tracks: Monaco. Your mood now is starkly different than it was at Imola. You’re practically bouncing on your heels waiting for FP1 preparations. Jungwon is by your side, instructed by your team principal to “learn from the best,” since he’ll be driving here for F2. 

The kid is clearly a little nervous, but he’s endearing and a pretty decent driver, so you don’t mind. You’ve already gone over the track layout with him, giving him tips for certain corners and telling him where he can make up extra time. There’s not much feedback left to give until you see him drive in person, so you resort to small talk.

As you both walk up and down the pit lane, Seungcheol saunters up to you. You resist the urge to walk away, trying to keep a good display of sportsmanship in front of your junior driver. The Mercedes driver however, clearly does not care, because he says, “is this your replacement after the Imola incident y/n?”

Jungwon, bless his soul, looks mortified. It takes everything in you to not fire a sarcastic remark back. You’re both saved from the awkwardness by Oscar though, who steps in between you and Seungcheol. He clears his throat and tells you, “Andrea is looking for you. I’ll take Jungwon for now.”

You know Andrea is most likely not looking for you. You saw him ten minutes ago when you left the garage. Thank god for Oscar’s ability for thinking on the spot. Now you have some personal time to cool off before free practice.

Both Jungwon and Oscar watch as you jog back to the garage. The Aussie lets out a relieved sigh once you are back safely. He turns to make sure Seungcheol has walked away. Thankfully, he has. 

The younger driver looks at the other quizzically. “I didn’t really realize the rivalry was actually real. I thought it was an act for the cameras.”

Pushing around a stray rock with the toe of his shoe, Oscar sighs again. “Would you believe me if I said they were teammates once?”

Jungwon’s jaw practically unhinges from his face with how far it drops. The kid is probably too young to know them in any capacity other than their rivalry. “But they hate each other…” he muses aloud.

Oscar urges the kid to keep moving along the track with a hand on his back. “Yeah, well they used to not hate each other. They were F2 teammates. It’s none of my business to tell you everything that went down but something happened that year. By the end of the championship they wouldn’t even speak to each other.” 

Jungwon nods in response, but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear that Oscar won’t give up much information, so he drops the subject. But every once in a while, his mind turns back to it. What could’ve been so bad that you guys couldn’t even talk to each other as teammates? If it was some sort of on-track collision he’s sure it would’ve been talked about in the media constantly. Now he’s really going to have to find out. 

And there’s no one better to consult than his own teammate, Lee Chan, who happens to be in the Mercedes Junior Driver Programme.

“You want me to do what?” he asks incredulously. “He’s my mentor, I’m not going to bring that up. Are you dumb?”

“Dude, aren't you curious too?” Jungwon questions.

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “Yeah I’m curious but not curious enough to risk my spot in this program just to ask Choi Seungcheol why he has rivalry with y/n.” 

“You don’t even have to ask him directly,” Jungwon tells him. “I asked Oscar about it, not y/n. Maybe you can ask George or Jeonghan about it.”

Chan throws his hands up in exasperation. “Oh even better, not only do I involve two of the biggest names in Formula 1, I involve one of their trainers and their teammates. What a genius idea!”

Jungwon covers Chan’s mouth as quickly as he can. They’re still in the paddock after all. “Dude keep it down.” 

The man just stares back at the McLaren junior driver, who sighs and says, “listen, I’ll try my best to get something out of y/n too. It’s not just you doing something.”

“Yeah that’s so motivating Jungwon,” Chan says sarcastically.

“Okay, okay,” he finally lets up. “I’ll pay for all of your afterparty drinks this weekend if you figure something out.”

This is motivating enough for Chan apparently, because he reaches his hand out for Jungwon to shake. They come to an agreement and part ways, heading back to their respective hospitalities.

Chan watches in the Mercedes garage as you set the fastest lap at the very end of Q3. He knows Seungcheol is going to be pissed when he gets back. Not only did you qualify P1, but he only qualified P6. His temper is much worse when he’s mad at both himself and someone else. 

Following Chan’s prediction to a tee, Seungcheol steps out the car practically fuming. He tosses his helmet at Jeonghan, who, as his trainer, is quite used to his behavior at this point and catches it. He marches right up to Toto, who is watching a replay of your final lap, and says, “she should’ve had a track limit violation at the chicane.”

Toto turns to him, surprisingly calm, and simply tells him, “She didn’t cut the corner enough to incur a limit violation.”

This is not the answer he wanted to hear, so he turns on his heel to stomp off to his driver’s room. Toto shouts at him from over his shoulder. “Take Chan with you. If you’re going to overanalyze every single mistake you made, at least someone should learn from it.”

Seungcheol whips his head back around to look at Chan, who nervously gulps. He wants to be mad at the kid, but he can’t find a reason to when he’s practically shaking like a leaf. Clearly he didn’t want to be thrown into this situation either. “C’mon,” he mutters and gestures at the junior driver to follow him. 

Back in his driver’s room, he unzips his suit, tying the arms around his waist before plopping down on the couch. When he looks up, the kid is still hovering by the door. Grabbing his iPad from the table, Seungcheol gestures for him to come sit down.

But Chan hesitates. “I can leave you alone, you know? I won’t tell Toto.” 

Seungcheol just rolls his eyes and gestures to the couch again. “C’mon kid. As much as I hate him right now, he’s right. You might as well learn from this and you’re already here.”

Chan makes his way to the couch rather cautiously and sits as far away as possible from the man, who is scrolling through the footage from qualifying. Without even looking over at him, Seungcheol says, “you can sit closer. I’m not going to bite.”

Not wanting to make him mad, Chan scoots a few inches closer. When he looks over at the iPad again, Seungcheol’s fingers are hovering over a video. He hasn’t clicked on it yet. He just sits there and stares at it. When Chan looks a little closer, he can make out your car in the thumbnail. 

Seungcheol clears his throat, looking away for a second. And then he turns back to Chan and says, “is it…uh okay if we watch y/n’s lap first?”

The question kind of stuns him. He was expecting Seungcheol to avoid any reminder of you at all costs. Scared that his voice will betray him, he just nods.

Seungcheol clicks on the video and they watch. The video is on mute and there’s no commentary from either of them. Just silence. As the lap ends, he pauses the video and whispers, “that was a good lap.”

Chan is even more surprised now. He was expecting a frustrated sigh or any sort of mean comment. But he doesn’t get any of that. Now, Chan’s scared that it’s a setup. That he’s trying to get him to agree just to berate him for it. He doesn’t know what to say.

Seungcheol senses that he’s not going to say anything and takes it upon himself to start the conversation. “She’s always been good at Monaco. Even since the first time she drove the track.”

This has really piqued Chan’s interest. Since her first time? Seungcheol was there the first time she drove Monaco? That had to be what? F2?

And then it dawns on him. Jungwon said something about them being teammates in F2. Hoping that the information is public knowledge (it should be, practically their whole racing lives are on Wikipedia) Chan decides to ask about it. “Was that when you were teammates?” He cringes the second the words come out of his mouth. Jungwon owes him big time.

While Chan was expecting him to look angry, Seungcheol just looks at the iPad dejectedly. “Yeah. At Prema. Do you…know about that whole thing?” he asks the boy.

Jackpot. Seungcheol willingly talking about it? He’d never thought this would happen. Then Chan remembers he actually has to respond to him. “Uhm, no I don’t think so. Jungwon said you guys were more…amicable back then.”

“Jungwon’s your teammate at MP?” he asks Chan, who nods in response. Then, Seunghcheol throws a curveball at him. “You’re not attracted to him right?”

Chan sputters at the question. “What? What does this have to do with anything?” When he looks Seungcheol in the eyes he’s dead serious. So he humors him. “No, I’m not attracted to Jungwon. I’m not even gay.”

Seungcheol just nods. “Okay, good. I mean good that you’re not attracted to him. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

This is getting weirder by the second. Chan gives him a questioning look. Why the personal questions?

Exasperatedly, Seungcheol sighs and says, “I don’t want to tell you this if it’s too relatable. I don’t want to scare you and make you not pursue a relationship because of something that happened to me.”

Chan is finally starting to put the pieces together. Then the light bulb goes off and he shoots out of his seat. “You and y/n were together?” he practically shouts.

The older driver drags him back down to his seat and shoves a hand over his mouth. “Be quiet, would you?” Then he releases Chan and slumps back against the couch. “I wouldn’t call it together. We weren’t dating, we knew that F1 would ultimately cause heartbreak for the both of us. We were just messing around. But we were exclusive, I guess.”

Chan doesn’t say anything. He just nods and waits for him to continue. “It was stupid and we both knew it. Especially y/n. She knew that if we got caught, it would affect her career more than mine. Even if we both knew that she was a better driver than I was. This sport isn’t kind to women.”

Seungcheol looks like he might cry. It’s so different from the Seungcheol that Chan witnessed 15 minutes ago in the garage. He doesn’t know what to do. He frowns and lets the man finish his story. 

“Y/n was a part of the Red Bull Junior Team at the time. She had been promised an F1 seat within 3 years if she won the championship. I was in the Mercedes Academy at the time too. So we attended a lot of F1 events together. And I was stupid enough to drag her to makeout in a hidden corner of the paddock at one of them.”

He paused, like the next part of the story would pain him to say. “A member of the press caught us. We both knew we were so screwed. He could easily out us right that second or even use it to blackmail us. Luckily Angelo from Prema was there with us that weekend and helped us negotiate with the man. Turns out this press guy is a big fucking misogynist because the final deal was that he wouldn’t out us if he could tell Christian Horner about our relationship. Said he ‘didn’t want no bitches in Formula 1.’ Prick.”

“Christian kicked her out of the junior program when he found out. He’s also a misogynist. I’m glad she didn’t end up there. He told her that he prefers people who win championships through dedication, not those who sleep to the top. But instead of being mad at him or the press guy, she was mad at me. She told me that I ruined her career. That she would never get into Formula 1 because of me. So she never spoke to me again unless it was at work.”

Chan looks at him skeptically. “But her career turned out fine.”

Seungcheol just shrugs. “Exactly.”

Chan is even more confused now. Understandably, you were upset by this whole situation. But why is Seungcheol a dick to you now? “But the whole rivalry? You seem to have started the hostility in that. Not her.”

The man sighs. “Her career turned out fine, Chan. But she continued to be mad at me.”

It’s starting to click in his brain. “So you’re mad at her because she never forgave you?” Chan asks. 

All Seungcheol says is, “bingo.”

They’re interrupted by Jeonghan knocking on the door and letting the F1 driver know that he’s due in a few minutes for media duties. Seungcheol leaves Chan on his couch without another word. 

“You’re buying my drinks in Barcelona too,” Chan tells Jungwon the second he opens his hotel room door.

Jungwon gapes at him. “What? We only agreed to the afterparty,” he says as the boys walk further into the room, away from prying eyes and ears. 

“Yeah well that was if I got you any information. I got you the whole fucking story, dude.” Jungwon’s eyes are as wide as saucers and he immediately starts asking about it. Chan recounts Seungcheol’s monologue to the best of his abilities. 

“Holy shit, dude,” Jungwon says once he’s finished, flopping down on his bed. “It’s like the opposite of enemies to lovers.”

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “It’s sad, Jungwon. Y/n lost her future job and Seungcheol at the same time. And now they can’t even be civil with each other because they’re holding grudges.”

Jungwon mulls over his words for a minute. “Maybe I’ll ask y/n about it when she’s drunk tomorrow.”

“How do you even know she’s going to be drunk tomorrow, Won?” Chan asks his teammate.

He turns to flash a cheshire grin at Chan before plainly stating, “she’s either going to podium and drink to celebrate, or she’s going to do bad and drink to mourn.”

Chan rolls his eyes once again. “Speaking of which, I’m going to bed. No matter how well I do tomorrow, you’re paying for my drinks.” He drags himself out of Jungwon’s room and down the hall to his own.

You and Oscar are sitting at a table in the far back of the club, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the afterparty. Mingyu from Ferrari, his trainer Jungkook, Mark from Red Bull, and Chenle from Aston Martin are also gathered around. You’re enjoying the light conversation, basking in the high of your win.

Mark catches your attention after a minute of you spacing out, pointing toward the closest bar. “Isn’t that your little shadow, y/n?” When you look over you see Jungwon conversing with a blonde kid around his age. 

“Yeah,” you muse. “Kind of recognize the kid he’s talking to too. Can’t put a finger on his name though.” 

“That’s his teammate from F2. Lee Chan I think,” Oscar pipes up from across the table. “The kid with the otter helmet.”

A collective “ohhh,” leaves everyone at the table. “I’m going to get another drink,” you tell them. “Might bring the kids back with me.”

Mingyu snickers at you as you leave. “You can’t adopt them all, y/n!” he shouts as you leave. You flip him off behind your back. 

Approaching the bar, you order another drink for yourself and saunter over to where Jungwon is standing. “Hi Wonie,” you say, catching him by surprise as you ruffle his hair a bit. You turn to acknowledge his teammate too. “Hi Chan.”

Chan points back at himself like he’s surprised you know his name. “Is your name not Chan? Oh fuck I’m too drunk for this.” you berate yourself out loud. 

“Uh no ma’am, my name is Chan. Just surprised you know me, that’s all.” he says. 

You giggle a little bit. “Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old. You’re the kid with the otter helmet, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, before correcting himself. “No, I mean, yes. Yes, I’m the kid with the otter helmet.” You can hear Jungwon cackling at his friend behind you. 

You smile at him again before turning back to Jungwon. “Well I’m heading back to sit with those four dumbasses,” you say, pointing back to your table where Jungkook and Mingyu are arguing over something on Mark’s phone. “You two wanna keep me company so I don’t have to deal with them by myself the entire night?”

Jungwon lights up at the question. “Of course!” he practically shouts, and drags a begrudging Chan by the arm to follow you.

When you reach the table, you pat the empty seat next to you, gesturing for Jungwon to sit. Chan grabs the chair next to Mingyu, who messes with his hair and murmurs something about, “the otter kid.”

Jungwon seizes his opportunity ten minutes later, when Mingyu and Oscar are engrossed in a conversation with Chan, Jungkook has gone to the bathroom, and Mark and Chenle are on a video call with Mark’s boyfriend.

“I’m surprised you’re okay with Chan being here,” he says to you as quietly as possible, while still trying to be louder than the music. 

Your eyebrows scrunch at the comment, clearly confused. “Why?” you ask him.

You follow his eyes as they search around the crowd. They land on Seungcheol. Still facing your rival, he says, “Chan is a Merc Junior. Seungcheol is his mentor.”

Letting your eyes wander back to Jungwon, you steel your face into something more serious. “Jungwon, just because Chan is being mentored by a driver I hate doesn’t change my opinion of him.”

“You really hate him?” Jungwon asks. “I understand you guys don’t like each other for whatever reason, but hate is a strong word, right?”

You sigh at him. “Hate is in fact a strong word Jungwon,” is all you say and you leave it at that.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he decides to push his luck again. “...Chan said you guys used to be really close. When you were in F2 like us.” 

“Yeah,” is all you say in response. The conversation is just barely hanging on by a thread.

“I don’t want me and Chan to end up like that.” It’s kind of a low blow, he thinks, especially when you’re a little drunk, but it works. You turn to him with sad eyes and reach out to rub his hand comfortingly. 

You whisper so lowly, Jungwon can barely hear it. “You won’t end up like us, Wonie. I promise.”

The near tears in your eyes have him getting emotional too. All signs are showing that Seungcheol’s story is likely true. One last test to find out. “Why not?” he asks.

The tears are getting closer to spilling over and you turn your head to blink them away. While you’re still facing away, you mumble, “your relationship isn’t like ours. At least I hope it’s not.”

Hook. Line. Sinker. Jungwon’s got it now. Seungcheol was definitely telling the truth. He feels a little guilty about prying it out of you like that, but you seem to have sobered up with the conversation. Oscar’s voice breaks both of you out of your little bubble. “Y/n, everyone is going to head back to the hotel soon. You ready?”

You nod vigorously at the man, probably to hide the fact that there are tears in your eyes. You hop off your chair, grabbing your bag and your phone. Then, you lean down to ruffle Jungwon’s hair a bit. “Goodnight Wonie. You and Chan be safe tonight please.”

After bidding everyone else goodbye in the lobby, you and Oscar take the elevator up to your floors. Oscar’s room is one floor beneath yours, so he says goodnight with a comforting hug and a congratulations on the win. As you ride the elevator up once more, you think back to your conversation with Jungwon. Next time you see Seungcheol, you need to tell him to keep his mouth shut.

The elevator doors open and you turn to head to your room. You see a familiar flash of blonde hair round the corner. What convenient timing. You pick up your pace and grab his sleeve, and he whips around with a deadly look in his eyes. It only slightly softens when he realizes it’s you. You shoot him an equally deadly look back. “You want to tell me why my mentee was asking me questions about our relationship?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is all he says. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid Cheol. You know Jungwon and Chan are teammates. What did you tell Chan?” As much as he wants to hate you right now, his heart can’t help but skip a beat when you call him Cheol. It’s been so long since you’ve called him that. 

“I didn’t tell Chan anything. Why would I tell him about anything other than racing?” he counters back.

It’s not believable enough for you, so you push. “Jungwon said something about Chan knowing we were close in F2.” 

Seungcheol, tired and wanting to just go to bed, tries to pull his sleeve out of your grip, but you relent. “You can look that up on the Internet y/n. Would you please let me go to bed?”

“No Seungcheol. This concerns both of us. He was asking all the right questions. If you told Chan about us, there’s no guarantee he keeps it to himself. He clearly already told Jungwon.”

He finally frees his sleeve from your grasp. “Can we at least take this somewhere private?” he whispers. You nod and he pulls you down the hall. He’s taking you to his room, you realize and the thought makes you sick.

Once safely inside of his room, he turns back to you with a fire in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have to worry about any of this if you forgave me.” It’s not the words you were expecting to hear, but they also don’t surprise you. 

You try your best to compose yourself. “You ruined my career Seungcheol. Of course I never forgave you.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I clearly did not ruin your career. Look at yourself right now. You’re getting paid more than me. You’re way ahead of me in the championship. Your career is perfectly fine.” This comment starts what is basically a slightly hushed screaming match. 

“I had to fight my way in and got lucky with McLaren. I had a guaranteed seat at RB and you know that.” 

“You know it’s for the best that you didn’t end up there.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay!”

“What was I supposed to do, y/n. I couldn’t have stopped that press guy, I couldn’t have stopped Christian from releasing you, I couldn’t have controlled any of this. But you were the one that stopped talking to me. Just because we cut things off doesn’t mean I had to deal with radio silence for the next year.”

You pause, thinking over what you’re about to tell him. “I had to.”

He crosses his arms and he straightens his posture. “Bullshit.”

“I had to because of the press guy,” you tell him, urgently. 

“We took care of him, y/n,” he deadpans at you. He’s getting uncomfortable with the conversation now. He can’t sit still. 

Tears well in your eyes at the thought of releasing your biggest secret to the man you once loved. “He’s your fucking superfan Seungcheol. He’s been following you since your karting days, like a creep. That’s why he found us in the paddock that day. He was following you. And when he saw us together he took it as an opportunity. He saw me as a threat to your career. He didn’t just get rid of my Red Bull seat. He threatened me for months after through phone calls and emails, saying that if he ever saw me talking to you, he would end my career for good this time.” 

The tears in your eyes have finally spilled. Seungcheol’s heart breaks, both at your words and at the sight of you crying. After a minute of gaping at the revelation, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. He rests his chin on top of your head as he lets you sob into his chest. 

“He,” you stutter, “he told me that if I didn’t let you win the F2 championship, he would kill me. That’s why I crashed at Baku and didn’t podium the rest of the year.” You rest your head back against his chest and sob again, harder this time.

Seungcheol reaches up to slowly stroke the back of your head, trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so, so sorry.”

He already knew everything was his fault, but this makes it so much worse. People were threatening to kill you because of him? Suddenly, it dawns on him. How much of an absolute dickhead he’s been. For years he’s been pretending to hate you, throwing mean comments at you, picking fights with you, all while you were trying to protect yourself. “Why did you play along?” he asks.

You don’t look up. Instead, you just let out a questioning hum into his chest.

“The rivalry,” he says. “Why did you play along with it if you didn’t really hate me?”

“It’s good for publicity” you joke. There’s the y/n he knows and loves. Loves. He hasn’t thought about you like that in a long time. Now that he knows the truth, he wants you back in his life so bad. But he knows he doesn’t deserve it. 

“Is the guy still threatening you? Is that why you played along?”

You shake your head. “No. I was trying to negotiate for a bodyguard in my McLaren rookie contract and Andrea asked why. I didn’t want to tell him, but I had to. It would’ve gotten out eventually I think, had Andrea not had him arrested.”

“But why y/n? I’m still trying to understand why you didn’t tell me this. Why did you make it seem like you hated me too?”

You finally look up at him again, brave enough to make eye contact once more. “I thought it was too late to tell you. I had already lied to you, ignored you. That’s not the best way to come back into someone’s life.”

“It was for your own safety. I would’ve understood that,” he tells you softly. Your eyes are bloodshot and the area underneath them is puffy. His heart aches. This is all because of him. 

You shake your head again. “I didn’t think like that at the time. And you had already brought the rivalry into the media. Of course I would be mad at you when you were talking shit about me to the press.”

It’s not a guilt trip on purpose, but it still hits him where it hurts. “Ok, y/n. I get it. I’m a dick.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” you mumble, helplessly.

Silence overtakes you both. Despite the circumstances, it’s not an uncomfortable one. Just two people mulling over their thoughts. Eventually, he breaks it with a whisper of “I miss you.” 

You whisper back an “I miss you too.” It’s real and genuine. You don’t say it because you feel like you have to. You say it because you want to. You hope he can pick up on that. 

He does. His forehead comes to rest against yours as his hand strokes your cheek. His eyes flick to your lips and you hold your breath. As his lips find yours, you feel years of tension release. A stray tear runs down your face and he brushes it away with his thumb. He pulls away.

“Do you,” he breathes out, “do you want to try again?” All you can do is nod in response. 

[abiomens]

So...this ain't fluff but hear me out:

Massage Therapist!Noah who gives you a full body massage and ends up finger fucking you and railing you into oblivion afterwards until both your brain and body melted 🥴🥴🥴🥴

JESUS CHRIST GET BACK HERE ANON

(i got rly carried away with this. nsfw bellow the cut 😭)

cuz yeah !! okay i cant do this

nvm jm back.

cuz he has really nice hands, right? you can’t help but stare at them for a little too long when he’s running his hands up your thighs or massaging the muscles in your shoulders. and he take notice to this.

he noticed looonnggg ago, a few months actually- he’s a TEAAAAASSEEEEEEE. like like like purposely lingering on your waist a little too long, or squeezing your thighs a little when you’re in a session. he knows it makes you squirm and he loves seeing you squirm. so one day when he’s wearing a specific turtleneck sweater and has the sleeves rolled up on his forearms, you suddenly feel very hot under your clothes.

half way during him massaging your legs and you talking about your day, you notice his hands reaching a little higher up your thighs, and then they’re at your inner thighs, squeezing and kneading at the plush flesh there. it’s distracting, you keep trailing off or completely forgetting what you were saying cuz you were too busy looking at his hands and how his cheek is pressed against your knee.

then his fingers run underneath your jean shorts and he keeps squeezing so softly, and when you just. stop talking. he looks up at you like he doesn’t know what he’s doing (he knows.) and is giving you the most innocent eyes ever. “you okay sweetheart?” as his fingers are literally tugging on your shorts and fishnets.

he’s suddenly rising up and hovering over you, dipping his fingers under the fabric and rubbing at your clit. you’re already crumbling under him, gripping his shoulders and whimpering into his neck. and before you know it he has 3 fingers buried in your cunt. you’re whimpering and moaning and grinding down onto his hand, his other holding your face and kissing you so deeply.

he made you cum twice on his fingers cuz he’s evil and wants you pliant and dumb and docile and mindless. then he’s so so gently tugging down your shorts and tossing then next to your bag, then your fishnets and pretty lace panties come next. he’s rubbing at your thighs again and leaving love bites all over them, you barely realize he’s buried his face in your cunt cuz you’re already so dazed. he’s moaning into you and gripping your hips, groaning when you tug at his hair and grind on his face. the glasses he wore were somehow still sitting on his face perfectly fine-

and when you cum again? he happily scoops it all up and sucks it off his fingers, literally moaning at your taste and praising you for doing so well for him, he’s so sweet :(((

he’s kissing you so softly now, cradling the back of your head and unbuckling his belt, then tugging on the waistband of his pants. you were already sat on the couch in his office, so he laid you back and you nearly drooled at his size. he let out a little laugh and suddenly his hands were at your waist and he was pushing himself inside so slowly. you were already in another plane of existence, and being so full of him added to that? darling you’re gone.

he’s leaning over you and cradling your face in his hands, checking in and making sure you’re okay. sweet boy :((((((

“yeah? feels good sweetheart?”

“shh, i know baby, i know. its so much, isnt it?”

“hng- ‘s big-“ “you can take it pup.”

“doing so good for me, sucha good girl.”

and before you know it, he’s got you folded in half and fucking you like he’ll never be able to again. (this happens at least one a week afterwards.) you’re too fucked out and dazed to realize you’re drooling and being so loud until his hand is clamping down on your mouth and he’s murmuring against your ear.

“gotta be quiet baby, can’t let everyone hear how good you take my dick, hm?”

“cock feels that good baby? yeah?”

okay ill shut yhe fuck up now-

[delopsia]

When Rhett's beloved belt buckle finally breaks, it's on your one-month anniversary.

He says he knew it was going to happen one of these days; the damn thing is older than the both of you combined, but when Rhett's got you up against the wall, the last thing you expect to hear is something metal clattering to the floor. In one smooth motion, the piece of steel that holds onto the belt has completely separated from the rest of the buckle.

You knew Rhett was going to be upset the day it finally happened, but you certainly didn't expect to find yourself kissing away the tears that spill onto his pale cheeks. It's the only thing he has of his grandfather, won in a rodeo back in '48. And even though you're not privy to all the Abbott family drama just yet, you know enough to understand that Perry got almost everything when the old man passed a few years back. Archaic first-born privileges, or whatnot. Probably would have gotten the buckle, too, if he'd ever been bold enough to climb on the back of a bull.

The two of you spend hours researching ways to fix it, but those YouTube tutorials only go so far, and the fix that works only lasts for three days before breaking again.

You've been dating Rhett for two and a half months when you come across a buckle in an online thrift shop. It's not quite as oversized and flashy as ol' faithful was and looks entirely different from what you usually see around Wabang. But it's complete with subtle engravings and a big, detailed bull skull in the center that just screams, "Rhett Abbott would wear this."

And so it winds up in your shopping cart; arrives five days later, nestled safely between the clothes you'd gotten as well. The pictures didn't do it any justice. You didn't pay a whole lot for it, but it doesn't look cheap in the slightest; in fact, it's the perfect example of what fine craftsmanship looks and feels like.

You're waiting to give it to him after the family dinner he's bringing you to; the perfect way to finish your first legitimate outing with the rest of his family. The buckle isn't heavy by any means, but it feels like it weighs a hundred pounds in your purse when you walk out the front door that day.

Rhett and Royal are already there, so low-maintenance that all they need to do is shower and change clothes. You're pretty sure you saw Cecelia doing her makeup in the passenger seat when you walked past, and God only knows if Perry and his wife will make it. Those two are lucky if they make it a mile down the road before getting into a spat.

Royal's talking so heatedly that he hardly notices your presence, "See, this is what I don't get," jamming his thumb toward a tourist standing in the checkout line, "Why do kids y'all's age think it's okay to be wearin' buckles they didn't win?"

Your smile falls, hits the floor with an ear-splitting shatter that only you can hear.

God, of course, you should have thought of that before you hit that dumb little purchase button. You can't give him this big hunk of metal if he didn't win it in the first place! Why didn't you ask first? Or research before letting your heart get ahead of your head?

"Y'alright?" Rhett's big, warm hand rubs the space between your shoulders, and for the briefest second, you wonder if he'd heard your smile shatter after all.

The first thing you do when you get home is bury that obnoxiously-shiny buckle in the back of your sock drawer. Rhett wins a new buckle a few months later, one deserving of being worn.

That hunk of embarrassment makes appearances every once in a blue moon. A couple times when you're fumbling around for a very particular pair. Once you wind up grabbing it simply because you've forgotten what it was, only to stuff it back the moment the memory bubbled back up to the surface.

And gradually, time flies by. A six-month anniversary date becomes a one-year, two years, three, four. The socks in your drawer are completely different from the ones you wore back then. There's a stack of ill-shot polaroids collecting in the bottom left corner because Rhett can't aim the camera to save his life.

You've moved house twice. Once into a rental to be closer to Rhett and again into a proper house together because his staying for the weekend and leaving early Monday mornings could only last so long. What's yours has become Rhett's, and you haven't thought twice about it.

"Damnit!"

Rhett's head pops up from beside the bed, eyes wide as can be, "What happened?"

"I only grabbed one sock again," you grumble, putting your shoe back on the floor. You haven't the slightest clue how you've done this three times in a row, but you have.

"'M sorry," Rhett's already reaching for your drawer, "I'm shit at gettin' them to stay together." But as his hand dips blindly into the array of socks, his expression shifts, nose scrunching, eyes darting from the socks to you.

And you... can't understand why he's looking at you like that. "What?"

Something hard scrapes against the wooden bottom as Rhett grabs ahold of it, something round and shiny that you don't ever recall seeing before.

Those handsome features soften as he realizes what's sitting in the palm of his hand. A carefully crafted hunk of metal that's spent the better half of four years hiding away amongst your socks.

"Rhett?"

"What's this?" Carefully, he lifts it for you to see.

The moment your eyes land on the familiar shape, you can feel them begin to widen. "That..." shit, why do you still have that thing? "It's just some...dumb thing I forgot to throw out."

Rhett's head cocks to the side, corners of his lips turning downward. Doesn't say anything just yet, but those deep blues hold a million and one questions as he turns it back and forth in his big, talented hands. Beneath his breath, he mutters, mainly to himself, "'s pretty."

Like a dam broken, your mouth begins to move, "I got it for you after your favorite buckle broke." You can't bring yourself to look at that old hunk of metal; instead, you find yourself staring down at the singular sock on your foot. "I didn't know that you can only wear buckles that you won until after I bought it."

"What moron told you that?" Quick, borderline incredulous.

"Royal," that name is bitter on your tongue for more than one reason, "he was saying something about it that first time I went out for dinner with your family."

Bare feet patter across the hardwood as Rhett comes around the bed, buckle in hand, catching in the light when he reaches out to cradle your cheeks. Looking him in the eye is the last thing you want to do, but you let him lift your head regardless.

"Can you do somethin' for me?" He hums, "Don't ever believe a damn thing that ol' bastard preaches 'bout."

That hadn't been the reaction you were expecting at all. "What do you mean?"

"There's an ol' rule that you don't wear buckles for a rodeo you didn't win," thumbs stroking your cheekbones, "but what Royal said was just him misinterpretin' shit so he can bitch."

Your eyes roll. "Well, you've already got a replacement, so it's not a big deal anyway."

All Rhett can do is hold up a big index finger, disappearing out of the bedroom without another word. Walks back in at the same time that you get the proper socks on your feet.

That buckle is the first thing you see. Standing proud on the front of his belt, remarkably small compared to the former one, and yet, the spitting image of what you imagined when you bought it all those years ago.

"I thought you liked your rodeo buckle?" Speaking mostly to yourself.

"I do," the bed dips as he settles down next to you, a million-dollar smile plastered across his face, "but I like this one better."

Four years. That buckle spent four years hiding away in the back of your sock drawer, nothing but a waste of money and a sour memory that arose every once in a while.

And now it's never spent a second off of Rhett's belt.

It goes with him on his rodeo circuits, glimmering in those towering stadium lights like a little cluster of stars. That old bull skull scratches against your palm on the nights you can't wait to get to the bedroom and leaves imprints on your skin when you sit in his lap. It's there for your anniversary dates and your just-because dates, and it gets polished for the special events that require finer attire.

Then you catch yourself one day, drumming your fingers against it, your head resting against Rhett's sturdy chest. Too tired to move but not tired enough to fall asleep, and it just flies out of your mouth, "Why do you like this buckle so much, anyway?"

Because you haven't forgotten how he used to obsess over his rodeo buckles. How hard he worked, and the injuries he suffered in pursuit of them. A dislocated shoulder, countless broken ribs, concussions, and a shattered ankle, just to name a few. And now those buckles do nothing more than sit up on a shelf he built, intended to do nothing but hold those old, dusty prizes.

Rhett hums, hot air blowing against your skin as he bumps his nose into your forehead, "Because you got it for me." Pauses to press a kiss into your scalp. "T's more special than any of them ol' premade buckles they hand out in rodeos."

"What if it was a PBR Champion buckle?" You can't see it, but you can feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin as he rolls his eyes.

"I'll make you wear that hypothetical buckle for me." Another kiss. "Because this one ain't comin' off, sweetheart."

[oh-stars]

A Fire in May

F is for Fireplace

Ohstars Alphabet Prompts | M | 1,010 words | cw: alcoholism, relapse, light angst/happy ending

---

They don’t light it often, but when they do, it’s always special. Eddie sits on the edge of the coffee table as the wood in the fireplace starts to ignite. It’s a useless fire, more for aesthetic purposes than any life saving warmth, but that’s not exactly the point either. There’s no need for a fire in the middle of May, just like there was no need for Eddie to go three towns over to a chain bakery to pick up a pie when Steve owns a bakery. His husband is the best damn baker he’s ever met, and yet he picked up a pie on the way home anyway. 

The wood crackles in front of him as the kindling starts to settle. It should be good to sit for a moment, which as Eddie looks at the massive clock (a wall clock, mind you, no grandfather clocks allowed in this home) is right on schedule. Steve should be home any minute now from his meeting. 

It’s been a tough few weeks, probably the toughest they’ve had in years. Things are getting better now that the bakery is out of the seasonal rush (even if Steve is knee deep in event and wedding season, he claims it isn’t as stressful) and their insurance finally closed out the ticket from the accident last fall. Wayne’s finally moved in and settled, resting in his room as Eddie gets everything ready for tonight. It’d been a fight to get him to move in, to leave that little trailer back in Indiana and move out west, but eventually (and after a close call with a near tumble off his porch) Wayne decided he’s too old to live alone. 

Everyone’s finally doing okay, there are no major stressors within the Party or their own little family, but it’s still tough. Even without Eddie’s car getting t-boned (in a parking lot, by the way. He wasn’t even driving it!), the bakery being what it is (a headache and a half if you ask Eddie — he tried the whole small business thing and his tattoo shop tanked after a year, but Steve has a better handle on things and the years of experience under his belt Eddie didn’t have), or even Wayne’s health, none of it would have mattered. 

Not when Steve relapsed back in March. 

He’d been five years sober, a month shy from earning his next chip, when it happened. An ill-timed tattoo convention took Eddie away for a weekend, on the anniversary of Eddie’s second run-in with the Upside Down. It’s been years since it reared its ugly head, but every now and then the anniversaries make it harder to forget. Usually, Steve handles them fine, has plans in place to get through all five of his anniversaries so he doesn’t drown in the bottle, whether Robin or Eddie’s available or not. And according to Steve, he did them. He tried so hard, but all it took was one nasty online review of the bakery on the wrong day while Eddie was out of town to throw it all out the window. 

Eddie had found him passed out on the bed, empty bottle of vodka still in his fist. 

And now, Steve’s back in meetings three nights a week, working on his gold chip in just a few days time. They’re working through it together, with Eddie going to his own meetings twice a week — once for Al Anon and another for NA. 

But tonight was Steve’s solo meeting, so Eddie took the opportunity to do something special. 

He hears Steve’s car pull into the driveway as he’s fixing their plates. Eddie sets down the plates in their usual spots and hurries to the living room, right as Steve walks in.  

Steve pauses, magnified eyes focused on the burning fire in the living room as he sets down his keys. “You built a fire?” 

“I did,” Eddie says as he drifts into Steve’s space. 

“Why?” 

Eddie adjusts Steve’s glasses and helps balance him as he takes off his shoes. “You said you were homesick,” Eddie explains as he guides Steve to the table, “and I know your mom loved to use her fireplace-“

“And ours reminds me of hers,” Steve finished with a love stuck smile. “Eds,” he starts. 

“If you’re about to say I didn’t need to do this,” Eddie interrupts, “then don’t. It’s nothing extravagant but I made us dinner and ordered your favorite pie from—“

Steve kisses him, forceful and tender all at once. “I love you,” he whispers when they pull away. 

“I love you too,” Eddie says. He brushes back Steve’s peppered hair and kisses his forehead. “Let’s eat so we can snuggle by the fire. I made your favorite.” 

“Are those flowers?” Steve asks as they separate, moving as a unit toward the dining table. 

There’s a bouquet of multicolored flowers that Eddie doesn’t know the names to, and neither does Steve but he’ll be asking Robin about by morning, on the table. Usually they have the paper flowers their niece made them as the centerpiece, but Eddie retired those to the office for their impromptu date night. 

They enjoy their meal in peace, playing footsie under the table as they share bits and pieces of their day. When they settle in front of the fire, a record playing softly and the dishes in the dishwasher, it’s like time slows down with them. 

“You really didn’t have to do this,” Steve says as he leans into Eddie’s chest. Usually he’d be the big spoon, so Eddie’s taking every chance he gets to hold Steve close. 

“I know, baby love.” 

“I’m glad you did though,” he admits. 

Eddie kisses the top of his head. “Me too. I think we both needed this.” 

Steve hums, but doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to, not when they’re both on the same page. The battles are never over and tomorrow will bring its own stress and headaches, but for now, and for always, they’ve got each other. That’s all that matters. 

---

Thank you @lady-lostmind!

Ao3 link

[jordie-gvf]

innocence, danny wagner

i had this little gem stored away in my brain and decided to make it into a fic. i loved writing this because im absolutely in love with dom!danny.

word count : 1.8k+

warnings : car sex, road head, anal play, fingering, squirting, slapping, teeniest bit of cum play, oral m rec, innocence kink if thats even a thing, handjobs, GIANT daddy kink, nipple play, breeding kink, hair pulling, ass eating, language

ENJOY!

Danny knew that you loved his car, you loved being in the car with him, riding with him anywhere he went, but you loved riding him in his car even more. Whenever he had a hard day at work or if he was just stressed, he would take the top off and then you two would go get ice cream. You'd drive to a secluded area where no one could see and you'd help him take the edge off his day. 

You and Danny were driving to Bourbon and Beyond together, top on because it was raining, all your stuff packed in the trunk. You were texting Briley, your sister, your eta and what you were gonna do together. Her and Marcus lived on the westside of Nashville, while you and Danny lived on the eastside. 

Usually, Danny would have one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on the gear shifter. Today, he had one on the wheel and one in between your legs.

Danny had been fingering you almost the entire time you were on the road. He found your g-spot and you threw your head back and moaned. “Feel good when I touch you there, princess?”  he asked you and you nodded. He sped his movements up until you came all over his hand.

Once you came, he licked his fingers clean and you two pulled up to a red light. He undid his belt and then pulled his jeans down. “Put that mouth to use and make Daddy feel good.” He grabbed your hair and whispered in your ear, “just pretend you dont know what your doing for me love.” The light turned green and he proceeded to the highway.

You looked up at him through your lashes and mewled out, “I dont know how, Daddy.” He went along with what you were saying and gasped. “No princess? You dont know how to please?” You shook your head and he told you what to do. “Take your fingers and rub over it, slowly. Slowly, princess.” You listened to him and did exactly what he said. He threw his head back against the headrest and moaned. “Im gonna pull my underwear down now princess, okay?” You nodded eagerly and waited for him. His cock sprung out and hit his stomach. “Daddy, please let me suck it. Ill be so good. Ill be a good girl for you.” He lightly slapped you and said, “Shut the fuck up. Stop fucking whining or else ill make you sit there and watch me jerk my cock.” 

You looked at him in the passenger seat and he yanked your hair back. “You wanna suck it? Fine. Suck it like a fucking Bomb Pop.” 

You suckled on the tip and he said, “Come on princess. That's all you can do? Go all the way down. All the way.” Once you went all the way down, he said, “There we go. Good girl, listening to her Daddy.” You started choking and he threw his head back. He started swerving and you stopped. He pushed your head back down and told you to keep going. “Take your mouth off. Jerk my cock.” You listened to him and wrapped your hand around him. You twisted your hand up and down on him and he started going a little faster on the road. “Faster. I know you can go faster for me, love.” he said. You went faster and he said, “I know you love my cock. Love on it. Kiss it. Savor it.” You kissed the pink tip and suckled on it. His breathing started to falter and he started to be inconsistent with the gas pedal. “Move your fucking hand,” he said to you. You sat back in your seat and let him do what he needed to. He spit on his cock and jerked himself off. He quickly looked at you and said, “Take your tits out for me princess.” 

You moved the top of your dress down and threw your bra off. He looked at your boobs and said, “Why so swollen? Got excited, pleasing Daddy?” You nodded and he asked you, “Why didn't you touch ‘em?” You made eye contact with him and said, “You never told me I could. I need permission from Daddy.” The sight alone made him cum. He came all over his hand and all over his stomach. He put his hand out to your tit and rubbed his cum on your boobs. He dragged his finger through the cum on his stomach and shoved his finger in your mouth. You sucked on his finger the same way you sucked him off. He pulled his finger out and stopped at the light. He pulled his pants up and buckled his jeans.

“Rub ‘em. You know you want to. Rub my cum into your tits, princess.” he told you. You pouted and said, “I want you to do it. Your hands are so much bigger.” His eyes got dark and he said, “Well princess, Daddy is driving right now. We want to get you there safely, so I can use your princess pussy as soon as we get there.” You licked your lips and went over to his belt, trying to undo it. “Take your cock out. Let me touch it. Please let me touch it.” He stopped your hand from moving and said, “Stop trying to get me hard or I'll pull this car over and spank your little ass until it's red.” You cowered into the passenger seat, upset because he knows you dont like pain. 

“D?” you called out to him. 

“What!” he yelled at you. 

You turned away from him and pulled your dress back up. You looked out the window and refused to look at him. He turned over to see you, not looking at him, legs close to the door. He spoke to you, “Lovebug, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I won't spank you, promise. Cmon baby, look at me.” You wouldnt turn your head to look at him. He moved his hand to your shoulder and started to pull your dress sleeve down. It was a small car, so he could touch you pretty easily. He moved his hand from your shoulder down to your chest. He pulled your dress down and touched your tits. “Princess, they're so hard. Come on, let me see the other one. Let me see my girls.” You slowly moved towards him, flashing your eyes at him. “Why you over there crying? Did I make you upset?” He asked you. You nodded and moved away from him, pulling your dress back up. 

He pulled into a random abandoned parking lot and undid his jeans. You looked at him and he said, “Take your panties off and hike that dress up.” You did exactly as he said and he pulled you on top of him. He led his cock to your cunt and moved you over his cock. He pulled the top of your dress down and let his hands roam your chest. “I love these fucking tits. Mmm, love sucking them.” he said, and took your nipple into his mouth. He moaned around your nipple as you rode him. He rubbed your other boob and took his mouth off your nipple. He opened his mouth to show you that he sucked his own cum into his mouth. He spit it into his hand and moved it up to your mouth. You licked it off his hand and moaned as soon as you tasted it. “I love your cum, Daddy. Want it in me.” His eyes widened and he said, “Yeah? You want Daddy to make you a mommy? Want Daddy to fill you up? Daddy’ll fill you up with babies, I love stuffing you full of my babies.” He kissed you and you moaned into his mouth. He put his hands on your ass and took his cock out of your pussy. “Can I stick it in this little ass? Let Daddy fuck your ass, princess?” he asked and you nodded. “I'd let you stick it anywhere Daddy, love your cock.” 

He spit on his thumb and rubbed it on your hole. He pushed the tip in and you gasped, not expecting it to feel so good. He grabbed your hair and pulled, exposing your neck. He left little kisses all over your neck. He grabbed your hips and pushed you down. 

He moved you up and down on him and put his middle finger on your clit. He rubbed it a little and held pressure on it. He moaned out, “This little ass is so tight, I fucking love it. Can I cum in it? Can I cum in your little ass?” You shook your head and said, “No, want you in my pussy.” He shook his head and said, “Let me fill this ass, then when we get to Bourbon, I'll fill up your little pussy. How's that sound?” You nodded and started crying. He picked up the pace and pulled out. He motioned you towards your seat and told you to bend over. You bent over to front seat, hand on the window, and he kneeled and fucked his hand. You felt something wet touch your asshole. There was no way. 

You looked back and sure enough, he was eating your ass. He looked up at you and smiled, tongue still moving. He put his fingers up your pussy and fingered you. You felt him brush your g-spot, you flung your head up and reached back to move his head closer to you. You pressed his face into your ass and licked harder. He moved back to spit on it, and went back in for more. 

You could tell he was about to cum when his pace started slowing down. You looked down and his hand was getting slower. You moved to put his cock in your mouth. He started twitching in your mouth and he pulled your head back and came on your face. He gave you some light taps as he was panting. He pulled his underwear up and his jeans up. 

He put his seatbelt on and told you to wait a minute. Once he got back on the road, he put his fingers out towards you and he rubbed your clit until you came. You knew something was different, it didn't feel like you were going to cum. Your vision went white and you heard Danny say, “Holy shit! Baby did you see what you did?” and laughed. You shook your head no and he said, “You just squirted,” You looked at him surprised and he nodded. You reached for your panties in his hand and he snatched them from you. He shook his head and told you to go without.

You had fallen asleep to the sound of Danny singing. When you woke up, you were at the hotel. He gently woke you up and told you, “We're at the hotel, Love.” You moaned and slowly got up. He got the two bags out of the trunk and you grabbed your purse that was behind your headrest. 

He met you outside the car and you texted Briley and told her you were there. You were in the lobby when you saw her. She took one look at you and said, “Tell me everything.”

[arecaceae175]

hi! I’m just popping in to say that you’ve inspired me a lot to write my own things, especially making wild autistic >:) your writing always makes me happy to see and i read it over multiple times!

(Also, i end up happy stimming while reading authenticity- it’s amazing and that’s my main inspiration to write)

you can just ignore this! No pressure ^^

This... this is one of the greatest messages I have ever received probably. I am so honored and thankful that you're inspired by my stories. That makes me so so so so happy. I was happy stimming reading this message too hehe :). Thank you so much for sharing that with me.

AND! You inspired me to work on another chapter! So here :D

Summary: Wild feels bad. Sky and Twilight notice before he does. 1788 words, hurt/comfort.

Warnings: mild illness, wild gets close to a meltdown but doesn’t quite have a full blown meltdown, descriptions of overstimulation, descriptions of illness (still mild- just fever and body chills and aches and such)

“Wild?”

Wild flinched. He turned around to the source of the voice and found Sky looking at him with an expression Wild couldn’t figure out. Words didn’t feel like they would work, today, so Wild stared at Sky and waited for him to speak again. 

“We’re about to go. You ready?” Sky asked. 

It took a moment for the words to comprehend, long enough that Sky spoke again.

“Wild?”

Wild looked down at his supplies, neatly packed away in his bag and slate. Was he ready? Everything was packed, camp was broken down, and he had nothing else to do before they moved on for the day. 

Wild looked back up at Sky and nodded. Sky smiled and held out a hand. Wild stared at it.

“I can pull you up, if you want,” Sky said. 

Wild nodded again. His body felt heavy. That would be nice. He pulled his sleeve over his hand so he wouldn’t have to feel skin on skin then grabbed Sky’s outstretched palm. Sky pulled, and Wild found himself on his feet. He swayed slightly, but recovered before Sky noticed. Sky was still smiling at him. Wild tried to smile back. 

“Are you doing okay?” Sky asked. 

Wild nodded. He was fine to walk. He wouldn’t slow down the group. 

“Come on,” Sky said, and nodded his head toward the others. 

Warriors did a headcount, nodded to Time, and then they were on their way. Although Wild usually liked to be in the front of the group, and often ran side to side with Wind and Hyrule to explore along the path, he found himself lagging at the back. It was a struggle to move his legs, and he was trying to focus on keeping up. 

He could hear every step he made. He could hear the clinking of Time’s armor, Warriors’ sword against his shield, the charm on Four’s hat hitting his belt every so often, the bottles tied to Hyrule’s belt clinking together with every step. 

Wild felt the tension in his jaw and shoulders from how hard he was clenching his teeth. 

Today was an important travel day; they couldn’t afford to stop if they were going to make it to the next town in time. They were sent by the resident Zelda. So, Wild pulled up his hood, focused on his feet hitting the smooth dirt of the path, and kept walking. 

It worked for about an hour, Wild thought. He couldn’t be sure. The passing of time felt a little fuzzy. The world was reduced to his focus on his feet and the sounds of his brothers.

The steps were getting harder and the sounds were getting louder. The hood kept his face shaded, thankfully, but as the sun was rising the world was becoming too bright. His clothes were sticking to his skin and making it itch, and the usually comforting weight of his cloak was causing pinpricks of pain across his shoulders and back. 

Loud laughter rang out in front of him. It was too loud. It was too much.

Wild slammed his hands over his ears, screwed his eyes shut, and fell into a crouch. Everything was too much.

Wild rocked back and forth, weight moving from the balls of his feet to his heels. The skin to skin contact of his hands on his ears was hurting . He risked moving his hands to pull his sleeves over them. The few seconds of sound slammed into him as if it was a physical force. Wild slammed his hands back over his ears and shook his head, barely holding back tears. 

“Wild?”

Wild barely heard the voice. He shook his head. Please stop talking to me. 

The voice made more sounds. Wild shook his head again. He didn’t know what they were saying, he just wanted it to stop .  

Wild felt the heat of the sun fade slightly. The voice was repeating the same thing over and over, and Wild tried his best to focus on it. It wouldn’t stop, but maybe it would if he responded. 

“Can you hear me, Wild?” 

Wild nodded. The movement was jerky, but he hoped it would get the point across. There were less sounds, but the voice was still grating on his ears. 

“Good. Can you try opening your eyes?” 

Twilight. The voice was Twilight. If Twilight wanted him to open his eyes it must be important. Twilight would never make him do anything he didn’t need to.

With great effort, Wild pried open one eye. It was darker than he expected. Wild looked around and saw Twilight crouching next to him. Sky’s sailcloth was being held above them, blocking out most of the light. 

“Thanks, Cub,” Twilight said. Wild flinched at the sound of the s . It sent a spike of pain through his ear straight into his brain. 

“Sorry,” Twilight whispered. His voice was low, but it still made Wild uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be listening to a voice at all, right now.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Twilight asked. 

What was wrong? The question felt like it was bouncing around his brain, making his head throb. Wild didn’t know. He felt tears gather in his eyes.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Twilight said, then frowned. “Your face is really flushed and pale. Are you sick?”

Wild’s thoughts stuttered to a halt. Was he sick? 

“Can I check for a fever? I’ll have to put my hand on your forehead,” Twilight said. 

Wild cringed away and shook his head. He didn’t want anything else touching him. 

“Please, cub? Just for a second,” Twilight said. 

Wild didn’t want anything touching him, but even more so, he didn’t want Twilight to be upset with him. If he was sick, he needed to know.

Reluctantly, Wild nodded. He shut his eyes again. Twilight’s clothes rustled as he shuffled closer. 

“Ready? Feeling now,” Twilight said. The back of Twilight’s hand touched Wild’s forehead, and it took every ounce of self control Wild had not to flinch away. 

Twilight gasped. “Wild, you’re burning up.” His hand moved to feel the sides of Wild’s forehead. The unexpected movement was too much. Wild jerked away and fell backwards. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Twilight said. His clothes rustled again. 

“He has a fever. It feels pretty bad,” Twilight said. 

“We’ll stop here, then. Can the rest of you get camp set up?” Time said. 

Wild pressed his hands harder against his ears once everyone started moving. The shadows didn’t change, so whoever was holding the sailcloth must have stayed. 

“Cub, why didn’t you say anything?” Twilight asked. 

Wild felt his heart sink. They were never supposed to hide injuries, and Twilight thought he was hiding being sick. He didn’t know. He wanted the words to come out to tell Twilight he didn’t know, but they wouldn’t come out. The thought of Twilight being mad at him made tears gather in his eyes again, threatening to spill. Wild shook his head. 

“I’m sorry,” Wild choked out. 

“Wait, Twi,” Sky said. “Wild, did you know you were sick?"

Wild shook his head as a few tears leaked down his face. Now that he was aware, he felt awful. His head and joints throbbed, his fever was making him sweat enough for his clothes to stick to his skin but he was cold, too, his throat hurt, his stomach felt uneasy, and he felt the wrong sort of tired. 

Wild felt a blush creep across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. How had he not noticed he was sick? 

Twilight’s clothes made noise again. His voice was closer when he spoke.

“Oh, cub,” Twilight said softly. “It’s okay. We’re going to stop here, okay? Do you want help setting up your bedroll? I remember where the blankets go.”

Wild didn’t think he had enough energy to put together his bed even if he wanted to. He nodded as he slid his bag off his shoulders and handed the Sheikah Slate to Twilight. 

“I’ll set it up for you. Hyrule’s going to come down and try to figure out what you have, okay?” Twilight said. 

Wild shook his head. He didn’t want to answer any more questions. Everything felt bad, and trying to figure out what exactly felt bad sounded like an impossible task. 

“Wild-”

Wild shook his head harder, ignoring the way it increased the throbbing pain. He brought one hand up and sloppily signed no more questions.

Twilight hesitated. 

Please, Wild signed. He pried one eye open and made the motion again. 

Twilight sighed, and looked at something outside the confines of the sailcloth. 

“Okay. If you don’t feel any better tomorrow, we’ll have to. We need to make sure you’ll be okay,” Twilight said. 

“Wild, you’ll be fine, I’m sure of it,” Sky said. “It’s probably just a quick thing, Twi. I get them all the time.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Twilight said. 

The voices were starting to hurt again. Wild curled tighter in on himself. 

Before he knew it, he heard the shuffling of fabric again. 

“Your bed’s ready,” Sky whispered. 

Wild peeled open his eyes and saw Twilight putting the finishing touches on his pile of blankets. Four, Legend, Wind, and Warriors were setting up the camp. The fire was close to Wild’s bed, but the rest of their things were farther away. Wild appreciated it; the less noise, the better, if he wanted to be able to sleep. 

He looked at the bed and willed his body to move. It really wasn’t that far away, but it felt like miles. 

“Need any help?” Time asked softly. 

Wild blinked. He didn’t know how to answer that. 

“How about you just try standing?” Sky asked. 

Wild nodded. Standing. He could stand. That was much easier than figuring out the steps to the complicated task of getting into his bed. 

Wild stood. He swayed slightly and heard blood rushing, but he stood. 

Sky moved the sailcloth out of the way, and Wild flinched at the bright sun. He pulled his hood down and closed the eye closest to the sun. 

“Now we can walk to the bed,” Twilight said. 

Wild nodded and moved his aching limbs towards his blankets. When he got there, he pulled the blankets down and settled into the bed himself in his usual spot. Brenda the Second was waiting on his pillow. He hugged Brenda the Second against his chest and pulled his softest blanket up over his mouth ro rub on the skin beneath his nose. 

“Get some rest, cub. We’ll handle dinner and make sure you get some fluids once you wake up,” Twilight said. 

Wild didn’t respond. He was already closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

[oneshotnewbie]

A sequel to type one diabetes where bd is stressed out because Kara got hurt as supergirl. So even though bd is taking her insulin she goes into DKA? Kara is fine when BD falls really ILL like already recovered?

...

"What do you mean Kara is hurt?" you stammered in shock as you looked up from the glass tubes on the holder, ripping the googles off your eyes and meeting the stare and steady gaze of Winn, who was waiting in the doorway. "Just come with me, quick."

You circled the table, stripping off your white coat, which fell untidily to one side on the iron chair before the brown-haired computer nerd grabbed your hand and awkwardly pulled you along.

At the glass front of the medical station in the DEO, he released you and you stared at the many people who gathered around your sister. A little look through the hectic moving bodies you recognized, that Supergirl´s face was bloodied. Some bruises were already forming under her eye and on her chin, blood ran from her nose over her lips and she lay lifeless on the lounger.

"Why is she not healing?" you stuttered. Your mouth wide open in shock, you crossed your arms over your waist and hugged yourself for comfort. Anxious, you watched Alex taking care of the middle sibling, worrying as you realized that Kara was not waking up.

Winn looked up, trying to get a feel for how bad the situation was, hoping Alex would soon come out and tell them something. Anything. But as you continued to watch her and the flickering screen of the blondes vitals, reality filled with an uneasy fear. Her blood pressure dropped steadily, her heartbeat increasing. "Winn, why is she not healing?!"

"Her powers failed mid-fight with Reign,"

Every little movement after this sentence shocked your body, threw you off balance and at the same time you had to suppress the enormous feeling of wanting to throw up with all your concentration. You could not even walk straight properly, everything blurred before your eyes.

Normally, you would immediately run into the room and fight for Kara´s life alongside your sister but today, that was not the case. You just had to get out of here. Away from the situation.

A week had passed as Kara struggled back into the present. Alex had performed wonders with her strong knowledge of medicine and the help of the sunlamps so that the young blonde had regained her superpowers a few days ago and was beaming with joy as she resumed her duties as Supergirl.

You, on the other hand, felt worse with every day that passed after your sister´s near-death experience. Fatigue and lack of energy have plagued you since the incident, but you tried to put it down as the stress you had acquired from not knowing about Kara´s future condition.

Winn watched you with concern. Something was wrong with you, very wrong. Normally, you were a bright, invigorated and vibrant woman but there was no sign of her at the moment. Beads of sweat were visible on your forehead and the enormous trembling of your hands could be seen on the handle, that encircled the tongs.

You were not the same. You were confused, weak and looked ill and battered with your sallow complexion. "Hey, you okay?" you looked up at him from your work, not even noticing that he had even entered the room you were standing in and nodded as an answer to his question.

Of course you dismissed his concerns but as the day dragged on, the computer programmer´s worries grew.

After you finished the work in the lab and stood at the center console of the DEO´s, he saw you in uniform for the first time. Your pants seemed to be looser and your belt had a new self-inflicted hole that was almost completely ripped through, like you did cut it with a broad-bladed knife.

The compositions of your weight loss did not match your eating habits at all. Winn had seen you several times a day with a full plate of food. You gratefully accepted small treats that J´onn passed you and devoured them without sharing with your siblings. Your drink pattern where out of control, often reaching for water and chamomile tea as if your thirst was never quenched.

He looked around and just in time caught Alex, which came up to your side for a moment and talked to you, shortly afterwards kissed you gently on the cheek and then walked away towards him. "Did Y/n tell you anything? Somehow she does not look good to me,"

"No she did not. But I have already noticed," he acknowledged and studied over your pale color once more. Your face was sunken in and the blinking of your eyes multiplied with every minute you stared down at the tablet. "It is probably all the acetone she inhaled in the lab doing some tests. It always makes me sick too"

The redhead snapped back to Winn and looked at him perplexed. With pursing lips, she tilted her head. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown and had an abundance of sudden panic in them while her heartbeat pounded in her chest. "What did you just say?"

"Yes, the smell of old, overripe fruit and acetic acid that envelops her," he explained, desperately trying to explain the smell more specifically to her. Winn was raising his eyebrows and did not quite understand what Alex wanted to do with this information. "Did you not smell that when you were with her?"

She quickly pushed herself out of her leaning position and ran to your side. Her index and middle finger dug under your chin and pulled your face towards her. Just looking at your red eyes and the enlarged pupils were signs that her thoughts were right.

"Okay, sweetheart. You have to come to the med bay with me immediately. Move!"

...

"Alex, what happened?" the velvety but strong voice rang through the small medical room, worry mounting in it. The blonde walked over quickly to both of you, trying to take stock of the situation that played out in front of her. "Alex!"

"She is in diabetic keto acidosis," she replied subconsciously, sounding defeated. Kara could hear the sheer nervousness in the otherwise rough and dense voice. "She is ill. Very ill"

"I can see that from her condition but what do we do? Can you help her?" she pointed her hand at your sleepy and tired body. Her eyes filled with soft tears at your sight while you just smiled tiredly to show her it was not so bad.

"I will take her blood and do a fix test. In the meantime she gets 0,9% saline intravenously. If the potassium is good, I will give her insulin intravenously and correct the hypoglycemia, trying to restore her body´s volumetric saturation," her voice was deep and filled with concern. She should have looked at you sooner to see if everything was fine. The incident with Kara had obviously took a toll on you too. "Talk to her, she has to stay awake now!"

In her eyes, you had looked very bad for the last few days. But the flu epidemic was on the way and so she thought that you would only catch onto it. Alex was not aware that things were going so badly for you.

As Kara edged your bed, she felt more tears prick her eyes and trickle down her cheeks. Her baby sister was ill and looked even paler in the big bed than you were anyway. She pulled the blanket you were lying under further over you and gently patted the back of your hand a few times.

You had not moved an inch and instead were limp next to her.

"How did that happen? She always takes her insulin, I always help her," gently, she stroked your fine hair. "Because of the stress she went through, her body probably used more insulin that she was taking"

Kara looked at the redhead who had already prepared a vein access for you, letting the liquid run through it. In addition, she put a heart monitor on you to keep you under surveillance. While waiting and hoping that your condition would improve in the next few hours, they would sit in separate chairs next to you and try to engage you in conversation to keep you from falling asleep.

You lay there, tired and scared. You really wanted to close your eyes and go to sleep but every time your eyes closed for more than a few seconds, one of the girls would shake you back to them.

Trembling and shivering, you had the pressure to cry. You were scared of what was happening to you even though you knew you were safe with your siblings but there was something that unsettled you deeply. "Am I going to die?"

"No my angel. Hopefully you will feel better soon," the young blonde whispered, watching Alex pull out your blood glucose meter and pricked your finger. A slight shock ran through your body and you winced while a few small tears were falling down. "Look, your blood sugar is slowly coming down. We are already at 300," she smiled and showed you the display, which flashed your value. "It still has to fall a bit, then you need a few days of rest and you are back to normal. You will not die"

[saffronimagines]

4 and 14 smut prompt for Daryl Dixon

𝘛𝘏𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙 𝘚𝘛𝘖𝘙𝘔

pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader.

I DON'T GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO USE/STEAL MY WORK.

Summary: while Daryl is visiting Alexandria, it starts thunder storming. you convince him to come inside.

Warning: Angst, SMUT, Thigh riding. kissing, hair pulling. mentions of alcohol consumption, scars, swearing. thunderstorm.

Request Yes/no

word count: 500+

SPOLIERS SEASON 9

you could tell the minute you looked out the window that afternoon, that it would storm. when you were a kid you always enjoyed the rain. now you were sitting on your porch steps. "hey" that gosh damn voice. "Daryl" you smiled, standing up and walking over to him. reaching out for a hug. "I was starting to miss you" You joked, he'd been away for a year or two.

"ya' sure" Daryl had never been so glad to see your face. knowing you were safe and sound in the walls of Alexandria. "what are you here for?" you were curious. "I missed you" something about Daryl's answer you couldn't see a touch of a joke he was serious. you opened your mouth.

the crack of thunder cut off your reply, then pouring rain followed. drenching you both. you stared at each other for a second. "sorry, um. wanna spend the night...considering it's storming?" you asked walking towards your front door. "yea' okay" he stepped inside as you closed the door behind you both.

He was greeted by the warm fireplace and the smell of cinnamon from your tea earlier. "suits you" his eyes then glanced at the couch of books you were reading. and the TV with a random movie playing.

"I'm going to change, ill be right back. make yourself at home...seriously" jogging up the stairs, and into your bedroom. you changed into a long shirt and underwear. as you turned to leave, Daryl stood in the doorway. he watched you change. blush rushing to your face.

"Sorry, I didn't see anythin'." he apologized sitting on your bed. "it's fine, nothing you haven't seen" you muttered under your breath. "I'm also sorry about the last time we saw each other" the last time you saw each other was the night after you'd slept together and Daryl left for the woods.

"you don't have to apologize Daryl I understand, and it was a long time away anyway" it was cute the way Daryl said sorry. you walked closer so that you were standing between his legs.

"I want ta' make it up to ya" he leaned forward testing the waters and ever so slightly presses his lips on yours. you smirked into it, letting him grip your hips and pull you onto his thigh. the kiss turned sloppy and wet, you then reached for his belt.

"the only way your getting off is on my thigh" heat grew in your abdomen, and he rocked your hips back and forth. his jeans pressing into your thin underwear on your clit. "that fe-feels really good" you had no clue where to put your hands. but then he placed them in his hair, that was the best thing Daryl had ever done. you gripped and pulled on the tangled hair. groans and muffled curses into your neck.

his hands move from your hips to under your shirt onto your back, grazing over your scars and blemishes. your moans getting louder and more pornographic. "I know your close, your soaking my pants" his mocking went straight to your cunt and you came undone just like that. "good girl"

you wanted to stay there forever.

written by saffy<3

[whumpcloud]

Delicate - As If

content: (institutionalised) pet whump, carewhumper, it as a pronoun, memory of a death threat, fear of being beaten or belted, alcoholism, chronic illness, brief discussion of death

Elio absolutely didn't want this. He didn't want a lot of things, he didn't want therapy or a support group or Sofia to keep bothering him, but he definitely didn't want a Pet.

The Pet looks up at him, quiet, like it wouldn't mind waiting forever if that's how long it took him to speak. It. Should he really be referring to it as it? Would it be stupid to ask a Pet what its preferred pronouns are?

Elio groans. He feels like he should be doing something. Should he order it to do something? Or think of rules? Does he even want to give it rules?

It's not the Pet's fault. But the silence and the staring and the stillness is starting to freak Elio out. He should send it back. Oh God, but what if it gets sent to some sicko or someone who hurts Pets or-

No justification is going to make him feel like any less of a creep if he keeps it.

"Master?" The Pet says softly. It knows it has no permission to speak, but it understands that it's supposed to take care of its owner. "Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

Master. Elio sticks out his tongue, as though just hearing the word burned the inside of his mouth.

"Don't… call me that," Elio says.

The Pet doesn't miss a beat. "I could call you Sir, if that would make you more comfortable?"

"M-My name," Elio says quickly. "Just call me by name. Elio."

"Oh." The Pet pauses for the briefest of moments. "I was trained not to call people by name. I'm sorry. I'll do my best, if that's what you want. It'll just take some getting used to."

"Trained not to--" Elio interrupts himself and sighs. "Fine. Sir is… fine."

"Yes, Sir," the Pet says, and gives him a small smile. The Pet can tell that its owner is feeling stressed, and it does its best to offer comfort, before it has to resign itself to a beating or belting. "Do you need anything, Sir?"

Elio fidgets with his sleeve. This Pet is his now, as much as he hates it. And it's right in front of him, so there's no way he can get rid of it now. He's going to kill Sofia for this. How could she get him a Pet? Now he has to deal with a whole other person in his house.

Oh, fuck. It's a person. Elio knows all the advertising around Pets - they're volunteers, they want this, it's all perfectly legal and legitimate. But that's just a human person kneeling at his feet. Elio shudders.

"...Sir?" the Pet says. Its owner keeps spacing out. Perhaps that's something the Pet is meant to deal with? "Please don't take this as me being rude, but are you listening to me?"

The way it hesitates makes Elio's heart sink. This is awful. What did they do to you?

Elio needs a drink.

"I- I'm listening," Elio says stiffly.

The Pet happily repeats itself. "Do you need anything, Sir? Or is there anything I can do?"

Happily repeats itself. Elio searches the Pet for some hint that it isn't entirely willing to do anything and everything that Elio says, but he finds none. Elio could probably ask it to do a backflip and it would eagerly break its neck trying.

"Tell me your name," Elio says abruptly. It doesn't even occur to him that this is now the third time he hasn't answered the Pet's question. "I- I should at least know the name of my Pet."

"I don't have a name, Sir," the Pet replies. Its voice is so small. "My name is whatever you want it to be. But I could tell you the name my old master used, if you'd--"

"You don't have a name?" Elio interrupts. How does it not have a name? Do Pets give up their names when they sign everything away? "And yes, tell me what name that sicko gave you so that I can never say it again."

Fucking hell, Elio, you didn't even let it finish talking.

The Pet uselessly opens and closes its mouth for a moment, before speaking softly. "My old master called me Darling, Sir. But don't feel like you have to give me a name. I'll respond to anything that you call me."

Elio wants to apologise. Surely he scared it by raising his voice like that? But its expression hasn't even twitched. Just gentle neutrality.

"Darling," Elio says flatly. "That's gross. God, uh…"

He has to give it a name. A real name, a name for a person, but he's coming up short. Pet. Pet. Peter?

"Peter," Elio mumbles. "What do you think of Peter?"

"That's a nice choice, Sir," Peter nods. "Thank you for naming me."

"Thank you for naming me," Elio mutters. "Jesus. Um. Pronouns. What are your pronouns?"

"I don't mind, Sir," Peter replies. "My old master used he or it."

"...yeah, I'm not… gonna call you it, then." Elio rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath. He's never had a stronger urge to get drunk than he does right now. "He. Peter, he."

Peter smiles again, and thank God, because the blank expression was going to drive Elio up the wall. He hates it, and a horrible part of him knows it's because it forces him to face the reality that there is a trained person at his feet.

Peter is just happy to be named. He would never, ever admit it, but he envied people and other Pets with real names. Of course he liked Darling, it was what Master liked. But Sir likes Peter, and Peter likes this name more. He gets to be Peter now.

"What were you supposed to do?" Elio asks. "Like, with your old master. What did he make you do?"

"I cleaned the house, I reminded him to take his medication, I gave comfort and support when I was needed, I deterred him from risky behaviour, and otherwise I followed whatever orders I was given," Peter says, easily listing off tasks. "But I was trained to do a lot of things, Sir. I'm sure I can handle whatever you ask me to do."

"Right," Elio mutters. "Sure."

Elio doesn't need a caretaker. He's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Sofia overstepped, buying a Pet for him. But he has Peter now, and Peter looks so desperate to do literally anything that Elio is starting to feel bad for contemplating just ignoring him.

Is Sir mad at him? Peter isn't sure. But Sir definitely seems mad at something, and doesn't seem comforted by any of Peter's small actions.

"Sir, you seem stressed," Peter says. "May I sit in your lap? I've been told that my presence is comforting."

Elio eyes him, as if expecting him to have some ulterior motive. As if Elio even believes Peter would be capable of that.

"Sure," Elio shrugs. "Fine."

Peter is surprisingly tall, but curls himself up tightly enough that he fits into Elio's arms. He isn't as thin as other Pets that Elio has seen - in fact, he seems very well-taken care of overall, aside from being gauntly pale.

"Why are you here and not… with your old master?" Elio asks suddenly.

There's a crack in the facade. The tiniest crack, but a crack nonetheless. Peter's face falls, but only for a moment. It happens so quickly that Elio wonders if he might have imagined it.

"He died, Sir," Peter whispers. "Would you like to know the details?"

Peter swallows. He hopes Sir won't ask about this. Peter is very good at suppressing the few emotions he's allowed to feel, because they matter far less than his owner's emotions, but the only reason they labelled him defective at the shelter was because he couldn't- wouldn't stop crying when they asked about Master. What if Sir thinks he's too defective and sends him back after all? After everything Darling did, he doesn't want to go back, he doesn't want them to realise what a bad Pet he is and send him to be wiped.

"Nah," Elio mumbles. "I just wanted to know what happened."

Peter holds in the gasp of relief and just nods gratefully. Darling was a bad Pet. But Peter, Peter can be the perfect Pet for Sir, and Peter will never, ever hurt Sir, and Peter will hope that Sir is kind enough (and frankly, the bar is on the floor) that Peter can keep smiling and suppressing and maybe even forget there was ever a moment where he didn't.

"Do you want something to do?" Elio asks, sighing softly. "You look restless."

Peter quickly looks up at him. "I can keep sitting here if you'd like me to, Sir."

"Nah, you can… uh… clean the flat," Elio says. "I guess. If you want chores."

Peter lights up. "Of course, Sir! Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be useful to you. How deeply would you like me to clean?"

Elio shrugs. "Just, uh. Don't make it just look clean, but I'm not asking you to, like, wash the walls or pull out the furniture."

"I understand, Sir," Peter smiles. "Is there an order you'd like me to clean in?"

"...nah." Elio is suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. "Don't, uh, don't make fun of me for how messy it all is."

Peter just stares at him. "Why would I make fun of you, Sir? That would be disrespectful."

"...right," Elio mutters. "I'm gonna take a nap, I think."

"Would you like me to get you some blankets, Sir?" Peter asks.

"Nah." Elio shifts to get comfortable. "I can fall asleep just about anywhere."

Peter nods. "Enjoy your nap then, Sir. I'll do my best not to wake you."

Peter breathes a sigh of relief when Elio falls asleep near-instantly once Peter gets up. He's so thankful that Sir won't be breathing down his neck while he cleans, making sure he does everything perfectly. He understands why Master had such high standards, Master needed things to be completely spotless for his health, but he likes that Sir doesn't need that.

Peter feels like he's breaking a rule when he enters Sir's bedroom, but Sir hasn't set any rules for cleaning, so Peter thinks it's okay. Peter tries to take his time - Sir didn't even set a time limit! - so that he can try to relax a little, but he's too used to cleaning quickly.

He finds empty cider bottles in the storage compartment underneath Sir's mattress, and bites his lip. He wouldn't think anything of it, if there weren't seven of them, if they weren't hidden. Peter… doesn't like drunk people.

You know what would be happening if I wasn't piss drunk right now? I'd be beating you to fucking death.

Darling quickly blinks tears out of his eyes. He doesn't cry, not unless he's told to. Crying is useless for a Pet like him.

If Sir drinks a lot, then Peter can take care of him however he needs. Whatever Peter thinks of it is completely irrelevant. He has a purpose.

A sudden sound starts to ring through the house, and Peter does nothing more than calmly return to the living room to find the source. Sir's phone is blaring an alarm but he isn't waking up.

"Sir?" Peter says, gently shaking him. "Sir, your phone is going off."

Elio's face scrunches up. Why is there someone shaking him?

Oh. Right. The Pet.

"It'll be my, uh, my glucose monitor," Elio mumbles. "God, that's why I'm so tired. What's the screen say?"

Peter looks over. "Low."

Elio sighs. "Can you get me, uh… there's Coke in the fridge. Since you're here."

Peter retrieves the can and hands it to Elio, who drinks half of it in just a few seconds, then nearly spills it putting it down on the coffee table. He mumbles a thank you.

"...Sir," Peter says, after a moment. "May I ask why you use a glucose monitor?"

"I'm diabetic," Elio replies, closing his eyes again. "...you know what that means, right?"

"Yes, I know what that means." Elio doesn't have to be looking to know that Peter has brightened considerably. "Do you need help with any part of that? I could remind you to take your insulin, for example?"

"I guess." Elio rolls over. "Ask me when I'm actually awake."

Peter pauses. "You'll need to check your blood sugar in ten minutes, Sir. To make sure that you're alright."

Elio groans. He almost says "then wake me up" but bites his tongue at the last second. He doesn't want to order Peter around for every little thing. That feels way too much like taking advantage of him.

As if being taken advantage of isn't the entire meaning of Peter's life.

Elio rubs his eyes and tries to stay awake.

taglist: @whumpsday @roblingoblin285

[mymelodymia]

Racer!Dad!Tony stark x daughter!reader

Summary: instead of being a billionaire at stark industrys, tony stark is a world famous racer!

Warnings: cursing, pepper being bossy, (dont tell her i said that 🤫)

A/N: lots of credit to @tonystark-au for giving me this wonderful idea, I will show screenshot at the end. And no shame on pepper shes amazing

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

Tony stark, he was not only the world famous racer, beloved by all, but he was also your father. Sometimes he stressed you out with his races but most of the time you were fine with his recklessness. In fact, at one point you both had a shared car in a race.

****flash back****

"You ready for this kiddo?" Your father asked buckling his seat belt,

"Hell yeah" tony only smirked at this, and started the engine. You both had a very high score, and came in at 2nd place.

*you and tony high fiving*

But when you got home, there was someone waiting for you, pepper.

She had always been the boss of the house, she kept you and tony in check (most of the time) she was standing at the front door waiting patiently for you both to get home, before you and tony opened the car door, you both turned to each other and gulped.

"I saw the news" Pepper said as you both slammed the car doors shut.

"Mom, you can take everything away, just please dont yake the car keys" you said making this face 🥺

"Okay, then I'll take the cars." She replied flatly,

"Oh fuucckk" you and tony said turning to each other.

****end of flashback****

Now you were both sitting at the couch, watching the first movie you saw.

"Hey dad, do you remember when we almost flipped while doing a donut?"

"Yeah, pepper was gonna kill us"

"She kind of did, remember? She...locked the garage 😢"

"Oh, it...it still hurts"

"It does" you said fake crying in order to be dramatic. And this lead to both of you fake wailing and holding each other as if you were comforting the other person,

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

You and tony were in the garage when you heard Jarvis speak up.

"Ms potts is approaching" you gasped and hid behind a car, you and tony had Jarvis tell them when pepper was coming, givin that you weren't allowed in the garage anymore 😭

She came in and scolded at tony for something, you couldn't hear the conversation that well so once she left you came out of your hiding spot and asked tony about it.

"Whats her problem?"

"Nothing." Tony replied clearly agitated, pepper probably said something about him being reckless and putting you in danger or something like that.

You sighed and went back to fixing a car that tony broke. You looked up at him one last time to see if he was going to tell you what it was that was bothering him.

"Dad, what is it?" Tony sighed and confessed

"Pepper said that im putting you in danger and that if i dont cool down a bit that your not gonna be allowed to go to the races anymore"

"I mean, fair enough they are pretty dangerous, but im not allowed in the garage anymore and here i am. Ill find a way in." Tony chuckled and brought you into a hug.

"Of course you will kiddo"

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

A/N: I am going to make more of racer!Tony but I said the 18th was the time I had so....

tags

@animealways // @white-wolf-buckaroo // @tonystark-au // @yummyangy // @zebralover

[sicknessbysalem]

Request: 2 girls get the stomach virus. Both are in a vomitey/feverish/bone crushing chills of a mess to do anything else but be sick. One gets sick while at work and then gets sent home sick. The other cares for her a little bit before also getting sick at work the next day.

tw emeto, fever, stomach bug

Vanessa adjusted her police uniform, the familiar weight of her badge and utility belt a comforting presence. She glanced at Lucien, who was eagerly checking his gear for what must have been the hundredth time that day. Vanessa couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. She always loved seeing the new recruits before everything happened last time. Before she stepped away from police work.

Now, she was back. She was training Lucien and honestly, she was really enjoying it. She enjoyed it most days. 

But not today.

As they set out on patrol, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city streets. Vanessa's stomach was doing somersaults of its own. She clenched her jaw, determined not to let any sign of discomfort show.

Lucien chatted about their upcoming assignments. Vanessa nodded along, offering occasional words of guidance. But with each step, the queasiness in her stomach intensified.

She knew the feeling all too well. But, this felt different. She was accustomed to feeling sick, but this felt different.  

As they patrolled the neighborhood, Vanessa's grip on her composure tightened. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, suppressing the urge to double over. Lucien, oblivious to her internal struggle, continued to talk animatedly about their patrol route.

The minutes stretched into hours, and Vanessa's determination not to show weakness battled against the relentless waves of nausea. She stole glances at her watch, counting down the minutes until their shift would end. Just a little longer, she told herself. She could endure it.

"Vanessa," Lucian said, "Are you okay?"

"Hm?" Vanessa questioned. He told her something, or asked her something, and she hadn't responded. 

"Are you alright?" Lucien asked again, "You're awfully quiet tonight."

"Yeah, yeah," Vanessa said, "I think I'm just tired or something."

"Well," Lucien said, "Let's stop for coffee or something then."

As Lucien suggested stopping for coffee, Vanessa's stomach clenched in protest. She hesitated for a moment, considering the potential consequences, but her stubbornness won out. "Coffee sounds good," she replied with a forced smile, hoping the caffeine might stave off the impending storm within her.

They stepped into a nearby café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the sounds of chatter and clinking cups. Vanessa ordered a strong black coffee, hoping it would provide a temporary reprieve from her nausea.

As she took a sip, the bitter liquid scorched her throat, momentarily distracting her from the rising discomfort in her stomach. But the relief was short-lived. A sudden wave of dizziness swept over her, and Vanessa's grip on the coffee cup faltered.

"Vanessa, you don't look so good," Lucien said. 

"I'm fine," Vanessa insisted, her words sounding hollow even to her own ears. She attempted another sip of coffee, but the bitter taste only intensified her nausea.

Without warning, Vanessa's body rebelled. The familiar sensation of bile rising in her throat sent panic coursing through her veins. She stumbled away from the table, hand clamped over her mouth as she hurried towards the restroom.

"Vanessa!" Lucien called after her, his voice filled with worry.

But it was too late. Vanessa barely made it to the restroom before the first wave of vomiting hit her with brutal force. She doubled over, retching uncontrollably as her body purged itself of everything she had consumed.

The sound echoed in the small restroom, a stark contrast to the bustling café outside. Vanessa felt utterly defeated as she leaned against the tiled wall, tears stinging her eyes from the force of her illness. 

As she heaved, she felt someone pat her back.

"No… no fuck off…" Vanessa coughed. She hated any sort of anyone looking over her. Well, unless it was Willow. Willow, she didn't mind. But this was not her girlfriend, and the last thing Vanessa wanted was her rookie to see her so vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, Vanessa," he said softly, gently wiping her forehead. "I couldn't just stand out there knowing you're in here alone."

Vanessa's eyes stung with tears, a mixture of gratitude and frustration overwhelming her. "I don't... I don't need your help," she mumbled, but her tone lacked conviction.

"I know you're strong, Vanessa," Lucien replied, his voice unwavering. "But even the strongest need support sometimes."

Vanessa wanted to argue, to push him away and retreat into the shell of her pride. But as Lucien continued to offer quiet reassurances and comfort, she couldn't deny the relief of not facing this moment alone.

After what felt like an eternity, the waves of nausea finally subsided, leaving Vanessa drained and shaky. Lucien helped her to her feet, his support a steadying presence as they left the restroom together.

"Come on, I'm taking you back to the precinct," Lucien said, "And you're going home."

-

As Vanessa made her way to the apartment she shared with Willow, she couldn't shake the sense of defeat that lingered from her public display of vulnerability. She dreaded the thought of facing Willow, knowing how worried her girlfriend would be.

The last thing Vanessa wanted was for Willow to know. Willow was overworked, she was always overworked. Vanessa didn't want Willow to feel a need to work more. 

The apartment was quiet as Vanessa let herself in. She tiptoed through the living room, trying to be as silent as possible.

But fate had other plans. As Vanessa reached the hallway leading to their bedroom, a sudden wave of nausea hit her with such intensity that she staggered, barely managing to grab onto the wall for support.

She had to run, to bolt to the bathroom. Like the times before, Vanessa could feel the way the heaves and gags ripped through her, tearing her throat and leaving her shaky as she violently lost what was left in her stomach. 

Vanessa's resolve to hide her condition from Willow crumbled with each heave that wracked her body in the bathroom. The sound echoed in the small space, a stark reminder of her vulnerability. She hated being weak, hated needing help, especially when she knew how tirelessly Willow worked as an emergency nurse. Willow was sleeping. Willow needed to be sleeping.

Willow, however, was already awake, her instincts honed by years of caring for others. The moment she heard the retching sounds from the bathroom, her concern kicked into high gear. Ignoring Vanessa's protests and attempts to downplay the severity of her illness, Willow rushed to her side.

"Vanessa, love, let me help you," Willow's voice was gentle but firm as she knelt beside Vanessa, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"I'm fine," Vanessa insisted weakly, even as another wave of nausea washed over her, leaving her trembling.

Willow ignored her protests, focusing instead on easing Vanessa's discomfort. As she rubbed Vanessa's back, her trained senses picked up on subtle cues – the clamminess of Vanessa's skin, the elevated temperature radiating from her body.

Vanessa spit, her breathing ragged as she tried to catch her breath. Willow placed a hand on Vanessa's forehead. 

"You have a fever my love," Willow said softly, her tone tinged with worry.

"No.. no I'm just hot from work…" Vanessa said, "I… I just…. I'm fine."

Vanessa's stubbornness warred with the undeniable fact that she was in no condition to argue. She leaned heavily against the bathroom wall, feeling utterly drained and defeated.

Willow dampened a washcloth to cool Vanessa's forehead. Gently, she brushed her girlfriend's hair out of her face.

"How long have you been feeling sick my love?" Willow asked.

Vanessa shrugged, "Since I started, I guess."

"Did you get sick before this one?" Willow asked. Vanessa wanted to lie, but the look on Willow's face told her to think twice about it. 

"I got sick earlier," Vanessa said, "Just once. Lucien and I thought I was just tired and hungry, We got coffee and-"

"You should know better than to drink coffee if you're feeling questionable like that." Willow said.

"Yeah," Vanessa said, "But you should know better, that I never learn."

"Well," Willow said, "I guess you're just lucky then that you got me as your girlfriend. Come on, let's get you to bed, okay?"

-

Against her better judgment, Willow went back to work. Vanessa was stable, Willow knew that. But also, Willow knew her girlfriend. 

“Let me put this in terms you will understand,” Willow said, “You are under house arrest.” 

"That's not fair," Vanessa whined, "You can't do that."

Willow rolled her eyes, "You'll live. I'll be home after work."

Willow returned to her demanding job as an emergency nurse. She had to go back, two days off probably killed her colleagues, they probably had to scramble to fill her position.

As a safety measure, Willow wore a mask. She felt fine, but she knew she was exposed to Vanessa being sick. She needed to be safe. 

But as the day wore on,  Willow began to feel a familiar queasiness in her stomach. She tried to push through it, dismissing it as fatigue or stress from her hectic schedule.

The nausea intensified, accompanied by a throbbing headache and dizziness. She struggled to focus on her tasks, her concern growing with each passing hour. She tried to keep up with everything, to distract herself. But, it was hard to focus. She felt sicker and sicker and she hated it.

Milan had noticed first. He was almost attuned to Willow, sensing when something was wrong. Willow was the same with him, they both frequently joked it was the only thing to come out of sleeping with the same guy. But, regardless, he noticed before everyone else. To a degree.

"Hey, you look like you should get something to eat," Milan said, "Let me take your next few rounds, go grab something."

Willow did. After all, maybe she was just hungry. But, she could hardly drink from her water bottle without feeling like she was going to throw up. She was back on the ward, doing her best to isolate by checking over patient folders and files and scheduling tests. 

Doctor Nguyen, a seasoned physician and Willow's mentor, noticed her pale complexion and the way she seemed to be forcing a smile despite her obvious discomfort. He approached her quietly during a brief break between patients.

"Willow, are you feeling alright?" Dr. Nguyen asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Willow tried to brush off his concern, but a sudden wave of nausea cut her off mid-sentence. She stumbled slightly, clutching the edge of a nearby counter for support. An assistant passing by with a cart seemed to hit at the right moment, Willow snatched one of the sick bags off the cart.

As Willow snatched the sick bag off the passing cart, her stomach rebelled with such force that she barely had time to reach for it before she retched into the bag. Doctor Nguyen's concern deepened, and he quickly guided Willow to a nearby chair, signaling for another nurse to take over her duties.

"Willow, you need to rest," Dr. Nguyen insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Willow, feeling weak and embarrassed by the sudden turn of events, nodded reluctantly. She handed the filled sick bag to an assistant and allowed Dr. Nguyen to lead her to a quiet corner where she could sit and recover.

"I'm sorry," Willow murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned back in the chair, feeling drained and shaky.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Willow," Dr. Nguyen said kindly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Your health comes first. Let's get you home."

Willow wanted to protest, to insist that she could push through the sickness and continue working. But the queasiness in her stomach and the pounding headache made it clear that she needed to heed Dr. Nguyen's advice.

Reluctantly, Willow nodded, realizing that she needed to prioritize her own well-being. Dr. Nguyen arranged for another nurse to cover her remaining shifts, insisting that Willow go home and rest.

As Willow made her way out of the hospital, her steps unsteady and her head spinning, she couldn't shake the feeling of guilt for leaving her colleagues short-handed. But Dr. Nguyen's words echoed in her mind, reminding her that taking care of herself was just as crucial as caring for others.

The journey home felt like an eternity as Willow battled waves of nausea and exhaustion. But, Willow was glad she made it.

Vanessa was in the kitchen, preparing a simple meal when she heard the front door open. She glanced at the clock, surprised that Willow was home earlier than expected.

"Hey, you're home early," Vanessa said with a smile as Willow entered the kitchen, looking pale but determined.

"How are you feeling?" Willow asked, coming in after taking off her shoes, going to grab some water from the fridge.

"I've only thrown up once today, so that's an improvement," Vanessa said, "I thought maybe trying to make something small would help my stomach a bit, I didn't expect you home so soon so, do you want something?"

Willow shook her head, "Not hungry."

Willow wasn't. In fact, Willow was the opposite of hungry. Willow felt horribly nauseous.

Vanessa leaned in to kiss Willow's forehead, a gesture of comfort and welcome. But as her lips touched Willow's skin, Vanessa's eyes widened in realization. Willow felt warm – too warm.

"Willow, you have a fever," Vanessa said, concern lacing her voice as she pulled back slightly.

Before Willow could defend herself or rationalize why she felt warm, a sudden wave of nausea gripped her with such intensity that she had to lurch towards the kitchen sink.

Vanessa reacted swiftly, pulling Willow's hair back and rubbing soothing circles on her back as Willow retched into the sink. Despite the discomfort, very little came up, leaving Willow feeling even more queasy.

"Easy, love," Vanessa murmured, her voice filled with empathy as she continued to support Willow. "Just let it out."

Willow clung to the edge of the sink, her body tense with nausea but unable to expel much. She felt utterly miserable, the combination of fever, nausea, and fatigue overwhelming her.

"Here," Vanessa said gently, handing Willow the glass of water. "Try to finish it. It might force your stomach one way or another."

Willow nodded weakly, taking small sips of water as Vanessa rubbed her back in a soothing rhythm. Vanessa could feel the tension in Willow's body, the strain of trying not to be sick despite her body's insistence.

"Maybe a change of position will help," Vanessa suggested, guiding Willow to sit at the kitchen table. She stood behind Willow, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend in a comforting embrace. "Here, let's see how this works for you."

Vanessa stood behind Willow. She hugged Willow from behind. She rubbed Willow's stomach with her hand, putting pressure on her girlfriend's abdomen.

Willow followed Vanessa's guidance, leaning forward slightly as Vanessa hugged her from behind. The gentle pressure and warmth of Vanessa's embrace, coupled with the rhythmic motion, gradually eased the tightness in Willow's stomach.

After a few minutes, Willow felt a release. She burped, once. Vanessa rubbed her stomach harder and it was like a dam was opened. Willow felt hot, chunky liquid rush up her throat. Vanessa let go briefly to turn the sink on, to run it, before going back to Willow's stomach and continuing to rub it. 

"Alright baby girl," Vanessa said, "Let's get it out, and then get you to bed."

[chiisana-lion]

Sup back with another question to get to know you my moot

Who do you produce in enstars I see u hardly mention playing the game and just curious I assumed ryusetaiP and FineP but didn’t want to jump to conclusions (for me I’m A Rabbit and EdenP and A tetoraP since despite being in neither group he tied with Nagisa as my fav character )

heya!! okay yeah i dont really. mention it and honestly i have been a bit behind on playing the game since grinding hermitage/the last valkyrie event on engstars 😭 but im mainly a valkyrieP and arashiP!! also yes a ryuseitaiP and a bit of a ra*bitsP in spirit, i do what i can in the game but i dont actively go for their scouts (or rather i dont even gacha at all if i can help it LOL i just like tapping away to the beatmaps. also f2p woes i refuse to spend a cent on anything (i cant anyways))

i do enjoy fine a lot though!! i do produce yuzuru and also tori a bit but dont rly go out of my way most of the time because i already am extremely attached to . a lot of characters. also souma i produce him as well and honestly, i'd be an akatsukiP if i didnt already have all of these guys under my belt 💔 wait i made a tierlist regarding charas i produce ill grab the first chunk

ryusei + rbits are just one tier below them. and actually i was fighting for my life circa october 2022 to avoid getting too attached to that fecking butler but you can see where that got me. heart

also i got four copies of hermitage mika!! was just a few thousand dias short of the 5th copy but its fine. its like whatever. like i didnt save up the entire two years for that event