#as did i 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[greypistacchio]

He literally said "God loves us ALL" and his first words were about peace, unity and dialogue, I reckon this is as progressive as a Pope gets!! thank fuck!! 😭🫶🏻

EDIT.- I didn't say he was woke or progressive, I said as woke or progressive AS IT GETS considering, mostly, that there was insane pressure from conservative factions within society & the Church to pick someone who would undo everything Francis did that was even remotely decent. Were there more progressive candidates? Yes, I'm sure, but do you SERIOUSLY think that they stood a chance after Francis!? He was seen as a Communist FFS, and his successor was definitely NOT going to be someone who might turn the human rights up a notch. Sorry to bring the mood down, but them choosing an actually progressive Pope was about as likely as the ESC committee kicking Israhell out of the competition.

It's in THAT regard that I'm relieved, because yeah, the guy is far from perfect and has queerphobic views (which are literally in line with the views upheld by the Catechism of the Catholic Church, mind you). But for fuck's sake. Right now we don't get to protest that the new head of one of the most regressive institutions on Earth isn't as progressive as we'd like, alright? He was one of the lesser evils, so I would say that that's enough reason to be glad that we didn't get a turbofascist Pope. For YEARS I've been hearing conservative family members pray that we'd get someone who would "undo the Communist disgrace this Antichrist of a Pope is putting the Church through" (I shit you not, they were actually calling Francis that), so frankly...

I might come across as overly excited for this dude, but in truth I'm just relieved that we weren't hit with a Hitlerinni McBigoted kind of guy given the Church's funny tendency to make up for the odd "progressive" Pope (such as Francis) by picking grotesquely conservative successors from the deepest pits of the far right 🤡

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 27: July 2024 - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/gridgossip MAX. AND. BELLE. JUST. ANNOUNCED. THEY’RE. HAVING. A. BABY. I AM SOBBING INTO MY RED BULL CANS 😭😭😭

@/F1TeaSpiller not belle and max dropping the baby announcement like it’s casual and soft and sweet and now I have to reevaluate my life plans because I thought I was immune to feelings

@/F1DaddyTracker Max Verstappen is about to enter his DILF era and I, for one, am READY.

@/danielsleftbrow can’t believe we all watched Max win titles, dominate the grid, and somehow the most powerful thing he ever did was fall in love with a Leclerc and make her smile like that

@/FerrariPain charles leclerc right now watching his entire family realize they’ve been background characters in Belle & Max: The Verstappen Chronicles

@/F1WifeWatch MAX AND BELLE VERSTAPPEN JUST ANNOUNCED THEY’RE HAVING A BABY I’M CRYING THE WORLD IS HEALING SOFT MAX ERA FULLY ACTIVATED

@/DutchBabyWatch MAX VERSTAPPEN. F1 CHAMPION. CAT DAD. NOW: ACTUAL DAD. The grid is not ready for Baby Verstappen. None of us are.

@/FerrariF1Pain Max Verstappen: wins races, wins hearts, wins at LIFE. Meanwhile Charles is in the studio playing sad piano ballads because his sister just announced a pregnancy in a Red Bull hoodie.

@/Lando4Life Lando definitely screamed when he saw the post. Oscar is already knitting a baby hat. Daniel is googling “godfather application template.”

@/MaxIsWinning Max Verstappen is about to be a dad. Somewhere in the Netherlands, Jos is already prepping a kart for a baby that isn’t born yet.

@/RedBullUpdates SOMEONE SAID “Baby Verstappen is already leading the Constructors’ Championship in our hearts” AND I HAVEN’T STOPPED CRYING SINCE

@/F1TearsDaily “Baby Verstappen coming soon” MAX. BELLE. I’M CRYING IN PIT LANE. YOU WIN. YOU WIN LOVE.

@/WifeGuyMax MAX VERSTAPPEN IS GONNA BE A DAD MAX VERSTAPPEN IS GONNA BE A DAD HE’S OUT-WIFE-GUYING HIMSELF AND I’M SOBBING.

@/MaxIsWinning Max Verstappen is winning on track. Winning in marriage. Winning in fatherhood. Max Verstappen is simply… winning.

@/landoismyman lando holding that baby like it’s his godchild next season i am SO SERIOUS

@/FerrariTired me: no parasocial relationships this season also me: sobbing over max and belle verstappen’s unborn child like it’s my niece

@/GridGossip: MAX. VERSTAPPEN. IS. HAVING. A. BABY. I REPEAT: THE REIGNING WORLD CHAMPION IS GOING TO BE A DAD. WE ARE NOT OKAY.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hülkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sargeant, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll and Valtteri Bottas)

Carlos: (Sends screenshot of Belle’s Instagram post) WHAT. WHAT WHAT WHAT.

George: You’re joking. YOU’RE JOKING. I WAS JUST GETTING USED TO THE MARRIAGE.

Alex: I thought the secret wedding was the plot twist. I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR A BABY. WHO GAVE THEM PERMISSION TO OUTDO THEMSELVES AGAIN?

Lewis: I love this for them. I really do. But also. Max? A dad?? I need to lie down.

Sebastian: This is exactly the kind of news that makes you smile and panic at the same time. Congratulations to them both. And may the child inherit Belle’s patience.

Esteban: Wait wait wait Is this real or are we being collectively pranked?? Tell me this is Photoshop.

Zhou: IT’S A SONOGRAM POST, ESTEBAN. There’s a literal baby. Inside Belle. This is not a drill.

Lance: I feel like I need to send flowers. Or a onesie. Or a helmet. Do babies wear helmets?

Nico H.: I always said Max was a menace. Now he’s a domesticated menace. The most dangerous kind.

Logan: I’m not emotionally stable enough for this level of news before lunch. I was just making toast.

Fernando: The real story here is that Max Verstappen kept this quiet Through a championship fight A media circus Family drama I’m officially scared of them.

Mark: I. KNEW. IT. I SAW THE LOOKS. I SAW THE RING. I KNEW IT.

David Coulthard: So do we just… collectively agree that Belle Verstappen has us all wrapped around her very chic, very pregnant little finger?

Valtteri: Respectfully… I’m going to cry.

Kimi: Hope the kid has better media training than Max.

Nico R.: I just want to know when to make popcorn. I want to be emotionally prepared.

Alex: So what’s next??

George: Soft-launch gender reveal via helmet design. I’m calling it now.

Fernando: Does this mean I’m godfather or what?

Daniel: BACK OFF. I CALL DIBS. I already started a registry. I have bibs with his race number on them.

Oscar: They announced it. Finally.

Lando: Oscar, Daniel and I have been living with this secret like it’s national security.

Carlos: YOU ALL KNEW??

George: AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US??

Daniel: Max said if we spoiled it he’d change our sim passwords.

Sebastian: Honestly fair.

Lewis: All I care about is that they’re happy. That baby’s going to be loved. That’s what matters.

Fernando: I’m serious about the godfather thing. Just putting that energy into the universe.

***

The paddock always buzzed on Thursdays — a kind of controlled chaos, full of camera crews and media handlers and engineers pretending not to be exhausted before the weekend even began. But Silverstone felt different. Louder. Brighter. Familiar in the way only a home race could be.

For Max, it wasn’t his home race.

But for her, it almost felt like it.

She tugged Max’s jacket closer around her shoulders as they walked through the gates, the Red Bull staff practically parting for them. Sunglasses on. Hair tucked into a soft braid. Her hand curled around his — always his — and the new, quiet weight of the gold band on her finger and the knowledge beneath her skin that she wasn’t walking in alone anymore.

Not as someone’s sister.

Not as an afterthought.

But as his.

A Verstappen. A wife. A mother.

Their schedule was tight — a dozen media stops and a million eyes. Belle stayed mostly in the background, answering a few polite hellos, sipping tea when someone offered it. Max had been pulled aside for his Viaplay interview, and she stood off-camera with his comms lead, watching with mild amusement.

It was in Dutch. Which made sense.

And would’ve made it easy to tune out.

Except she didn’t.

Not anymore.

“Je hebt iets gedeeld op Instagram deze week — gefeliciteerd trouwens — hoe voel je je over vader worden, Max?” (You shared something on Instagram this week — congratulations, by the way — how do you feel about becoming a father, Max?)

Max gave that soft, crooked smile she loved. “Blij. Echt blij.” (Happy. Really happy.)

“Hebben jullie al nagedacht over namen?” the interviewer said brightly. (Have you thought about names yet?)

Max laughed softly, nodding. “We hebben er een paar… maar dat houden we nog even voor onszelf.” (We have a few… but we'll keep them to ourselves for now.)

Belle smiled. She could understand every word.

Then, with a devilish glint in his eye, Max added, “Maar je kunt het natuurlijk ook aan mijn vrouw vragen.” (But of course you can also ask my wife.)

The mic turned to her immediately — and Belle didn’t flinch.

She stepped forward slightly, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “We hebben een shortlist,” she said, in calm, careful Dutch. “Maar voorlopig heet het nog gewoon ‘de kleine.’” (We have a shortlist. But for now it's just called 'the little one.)

The silence was instant.

A few Red Bull staff members standing nearby audibly choked. The cameraman muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “what the hell.” Even Max looked slightly stunned — eyes wide, eyebrows lifted in that you didn’t tell me you were going to do that way.

The interviewer recovered quickly, laughing. “Spreek jij Nederlands?” (You speak Dutch?)

Belle smiled. “Een beetje,” she answered, with near-perfect pronunciation. Then, a bit more shyly, “Ik ben nog aan het leren, maar ik begrijp het meestal. ”  (A little. I’m still learning, but I understand most of it.) Then in English: “Max learned French for me. I figured it was only fair.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

She caught the way Max’s face softened — the pride there, the quiet awe. The way he looked at her like she was magic. He laughed, low and warm, reaching for her hand without even thinking.

And the cameras caught all of it — the quiet pride in his face, the ease in hers, the way her fingers curled into his like they were already a team of three.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1WifeWatcher: the baby bump. the oversized red bull jacket. the way Max kept checking on her i'm going to cry in the paddock car park

@/GridGossip: Belle Verstappen walking into Silverstone in Max’s jacket, sunglasses on, baby bump very much visible, hand in his — THIS is what winning looks like.

@/TifosiGoneSoft: THE BABY BUMP IS BUMPING THE RED BULL JACKET IS SWALLOWING HER MAX LOOKS LIKE HE’S IN LOVE IN 4K I AM ON THE FLOOR.

@/softlaunchqueen: no but Belle absolutely glowed today like she woke up radiant and said “i think i’ll wear my husband’s race jacket and casually destroy the internet.”

@/VerstappenFanclubNL: She’s wearing his jacket. She’s carrying his child. She answered in Dutch. He looked at her like the sun rose just for her. I need a moment.

@/RedBullTroll33: it’s the way max has one (1) arm permanently wrapped around her like she’s a national treasure which she is obviously

@/MaxIsWinning: he keeps brushing his thumb against her hand like he can't believe she’s real guys this is love i’m not okay

@/DutchPressRoyalty:

“Spreek jij Nederlands?” “Een beetje.”

UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR.

@/F1Dutchies: Belle Verstappen just answered a Viaplay question in flawless Dutch. I am on the floor. Charles is on the floor. We are all on the floor.

@/GridGossip: Belle: speaks Dutch Max: smiles like a man who knows he married up Charles: googling 'how to say betrayal in French'

@/RedBullWivesClub: Belle said "He learned French for me, so I learned Dutch for him" and now I need a moment. Or several.

@/F1MemeLord:  Belle: exists Belle: speaks Dutch Dutch media: collective meltdown Charles: throws phone into the Mediterranean

@/TifosiTears: Charles Leclerc watching his sister speak Dutch on live TV: [insert gif of man screaming into the void]

@/RedBullHeartthrob: Max said “ask my wife” And then his wife answered. In Dutch. With perfect pronunciation. I AM NOT OKAY.

@/TifosiTears: Belle Verstappen understood the assignment and then re-wrote the syllabus. She said “Max learned French for me, so I learned Dutch for him.” Excuse me while I sob.

***

Charles Leclerc hadn’t meant to watch the interview.

He had been scrolling idly — background noise in the Ferrari motorhome, waiting for his next media obligation, pretending not to exist — when he heard Max’s voice in Dutch.

It was Viaplay. Of course it was Viaplay. Max sounded relaxed. Too relaxed. The kind of calm that made Charles’ jaw clench automatically.

He almost turned it off.

And then he heard her.

Belle.

Not just speaking, but answering the question. In Dutch. Her accent was soft, rounded, but unmistakably fluent. And she was smiling.

Max was looking at her like the rest of the world had disappeared.

Charles sat forward, frozen.

“She learned Dutch?” he muttered, as if someone would answer. “Since when does she—?”

And then she laughed — that same, easy laugh that used to fill their kitchen on Saturday mornings — and said, “He learned French for me. So I learned Dutch for him.”

The hosts laughed. Max beamed.

Charles felt like the world tilted sideways.

It was so obvious now. So stupidly, glaringly obvious.

Her hand kept drifting to her stomach when she talked. The slight curve under the Red Bull polo. The way Max hovered just half a step closer than usual — not possessive, but protective. Her skin glowing. Her eyes bright. Her posture… different.

She looked happy.

Not pretending-to-be-happy. Not “smile for the cameras” happy.

Real.

For the first time, he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

His sister — the one he hadn’t looked at properly in years, the one whose birthday he forgot, whose voice he hadn't really heard until she stopped using it — was standing on international television, glowing. Speaking a language he didn’t know. With a man she clearly loved. A baby on the way. A whole new life, right in front of him.

And Charles?

Charles was a spectator now.

Just one more person in the crowd.

***

Silverstone was chaos — fast, loud, relentless.

But the McLaren hospitality deck, tucked above the paddock like a sun-warmed balcony, felt like a pocket of calm.

Belle sat back on one of the canvas deck chairs, nursing a cold lemonade and adjusting her sunglasses. Her Red Bull credentials hung from her neck, but nobody at McLaren minded. Especially not when she came with Lily, who had already claimed one of the outdoor tables as their unofficial headquarters.

Emilie sat beside her, picking at a bowl of olives like they’d personally offended her, while Lily — Oscar’s girlfriend — was draped across the opposite bench, sunglasses on, talking animatedly about the papaya merch queue.

“Fifteen minutes,” Lily declared, “for a hat! Oscar said the only people that wait in lines that long are people in love or British.”

“You’re both,” Belle offered with a smile.

“And you’re married and pregnant,” Emilie added, “so I feel like that makes you Queen of the Queue.”

Belle rolled her eyes fondly. “I haven’t queued for anything since Max found out I was craving strawberries.”

“Must be nice,” Emilie drawled, reaching for another olive.

“You could have that too, you know,” Lily said innocently. “If you just admitted that you and Lando—”

“Don’t,” Emilie warned, holding up a finger. “Don’t you dare start.”

Belle tried not to smile. “I’m just saying, you do spend an awful lot of time watching TikTok Thirst Traps for someone who’s just friends with their star driver.”

“It’s anthropological research,” Emilie deadpanned.

“Sure it is,” Lily said, grinning. “And the way Lando looks at you like he’s planning to build you a sim racing shrine?”

Belle nearly snorted lemonade through her nose.

Rebecca — Carlos’ girlfriend — arrived, dropping into a seat with a huff and a pastry in hand. “It’s a zoo out there. Carlos just walked past and someone yelled “El Smooth Operator” like they were summoning a demon.”

“Did it work?” Emilie asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Lily - Alex’s girlfriend -  showed up a few moments later, all grace and wit in a floral dress, her sunglasses perched on her head. “I bring sunscreen, gossip, and absolutely no patience for men who think DRS zones are personality traits.”

“Excellent,” Belle said. “We’re forming a coven.”

“I call Head Witch,” Emilie muttered, still annoyed about the Lando commentary.

They were mid-discussion about who would win in a team radio insult battle when someone cleared their throat behind them.

Belle turned — and froze.

Alexandra.

She looked… uncertain. Out of place, maybe. But she was holding a cup of coffee and a quiet kind of determination in her posture.

“Hi,” Alexandra said. “I was hoping… could I join you?”

The table quieted.

Belle met her gaze. No walls. No pretense. Just truth.

“Of course,” Belle said softly.

She looked… nervous. Which was new.

Belle’s heart beat faster. But she didn’t move.

Alexandra stepped forward, hands clasped tightly. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. I should’ve seen it sooner. The way you were being treated. The way you disappeared. I didn’t… I didn’t know how to say something without stepping on Charles’ toes.”

“You should’ve stepped harder,” Emilie muttered, not unkindly.

“I know,” Alexandra said, her voice quiet. “I got caught up in what Charles was feeling and forgot to think about what you were going through.”

Belle nodded, not quite smiling. But not frowning either. “Thank you.”

“I hope, someday,” Alexandra said, voice steady, “we can build something separate from all that.”

“I’d like that.” Belle said softly. 

Alexandra let out a breath of relief and was immediately handed a fruit skewer by Lily. Rebecca scooted over to make room. Emilie raised a brow but didn’t argue.

And for a little while, they just talked.

About nonsense. About the race. About how McLaren’s espresso machine was criminally underrated.

Belle sat in the middle of it all — women who saw her as Belle Verstappen, not Isabelle Leclerc. Who didn’t ask her to justify her happiness or explain her choices. Who accepted her seat at the table without debate.

Her hand drifted to her stomach again, gently, instinctively.

This, she thought, was what peace felt like.

And then Lily, with a wicked smile, said, “Okay, but seriously. When is Lando asking you to dinner again, Emilie?”

Belle laughed into her lemonade while Emilie choked on a grape.

Silverstone was loud.

But here, Belle felt calm.

She was exactly where she belonged.

***

The paddock buzzed around her — a blur of lanyards, team polos, media badges, and engines humming distantly like a heartbeat under the concrete. Belle had just stepped out of the McLaren hospitality unit, the lemon tart Lily had smuggled into her bag clutched triumphantly in hand, when she heard someone call her name.

"Belle?"

She froze for half a second. The voice was familiar — so familiar — and when she turned, Arthur was already standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, eyes wide and nervous like he hadn’t expected her to actually turn around.

He wasn’t in Ferrari gear — just a plain hoodie and jeans, no PR team trailing behind, no cameras lurking near.

"Hi," she said softly.

He took a step closer, then stopped. “I didn’t think I’d… run into you. Not here.”

Belle smiled faintly, more out of instinct than anything. “I’m technically on dessert patrol. Don’t tell Red Bull.”

Arthur’s gaze flicked to the little paper box in her hand. “Lemon tart?”

“Always.”

He nodded, then looked at her again — really looked at her. And she knew the moment he saw it: the curve of her belly, visible even under the loose Red Bull jacket she’d tugged on that morning.

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his voice softened.

“You look… really good,” he said. “Happy.”

Belle’s throat tightened. “I am.”

He nodded once, slowly. “That’s… I’m glad. I mean it.”

There was a pause. Not awkward — just careful. Like walking across a rope bridge and not wanting to look down.

Belle looked at him properly then — at the brother who had actually tried, who had sat next to her in therapy and said I’ll do better without waiting to be congratulated for it.

“Thank you,” she said.

Arthur’s expression cracked into something closer to a smile. “Does Max know you’re out here unsupervised?”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Touché.”

He glanced down, then back up again. “Can I… can I hug you?”

Belle hesitated — not because she didn’t want to, but because it had been so long since it felt safe to let anyone in like that.

But Arthur had come back. Had tried.

She nodded.

He stepped forward carefully and wrapped his arms around her — gentle but protective, like he remembered what it had been like to hug her when they were kids, when thunder scared him and she read him stories by flashlight.

She let herself lean in for just a second.

When they pulled apart, Arthur’s voice was quieter. “Do you… know what it is yet?”

Belle smiled. “Not yet.”

He grinned. “Boy or girl, they’re going to be loved. And probably terrifying in a kart.”

Belle laughed, the knot in her chest easing just a little. “Definitely.”

A voice called for her from the Red Bull side — someone from comms, letting her know Max was finishing up his last interview.

Arthur nodded toward it. “Go. Before your husband launches a search party.”

Belle took a step back. “See you around?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You will.”

And for the first time in a long time, she believed him.

***

FIA Post-Race Press Conference – Silverstone 2024

 Drivers: Lando Norris (P3), Max Verstappen (P2), Lewis Hamilton (P1)

Moderator: Congratulations, gentlemen. A fantastic race here at Silverstone — Lando, home crowd, amazing drive; Lewis, a win at home once again; and Max, back on the podium. We’ll begin with questions from the media.

Reporter #1: Max, Lando — obviously there was a lot of talk after Austria last week. There was contact, some tension. Can you tell us if things are resolved between you?

Max: (with a faint smile) I mean, yeah. We talked.

Lando: We did. Sort of.

Lewis: (chuckling) That doesn’t sound reassuring.

Max: No, no, it’s fine now. My wife and Lando’s… friend staged an intervention. They made us play Mario Kart until we stopped glaring at each other.

Lando: We weren’t allowed to eat dessert until we finished one race without throwing things.

Max: They said it was therapy. It was war.

Lando: But it worked. I still think he’s a menace on track. And in Rainbow Road.

Max:  (smirking) You’re just mad I blue-shelled you.

Lewis: (chuckling) That’s the most domestic F1 conflict resolution I’ve ever heard. What’s next, baking competitions?

Max: (bemused) We did have lemon tart after. But only once we shook hands.

Moderator: So things are good between you?

Lando: We’re fine. We just needed to remember we’ve known each other forever. And that Max can’t win every race and then act surprised when I get annoyed.

Max: I’m not surprised. I’m just better at Mario Kart.

(laughter)

Reporter #2 : Max — a lot of talk this weekend, not just about the race, but also your personal life. You and your wife made your pregnancy public before the weekend — congratulations.

Max: (nods, smiling softly) Thank you. We’re both really happy.

Moderator: Does becoming a father change your mindset behind the wheel?

Max: I think it changes everything, honestly. It’s a different kind of focus now. I want to win, yes. But I also want to go home safe. I want to build a future. And… I want to be someone my kid looks up to one day. So yeah, it changes things.

Lewis: (respectfully) Congrats again, mate. Fatherhood suits you.

Reporter #3: Max, if I may ask — there’s been a lot of discussion online about your wife’s family and their absence. Can you comment on the Leclercs and their current relationship with you and Belle?

Max (calm, but firm): No, that’s private. It’s not for the media. I’ve said what I wanted to say — Belle is my wife, and we’re building our life together. That’s all anyone needs to know.

Moderator: One last question?

Reporter #4: Max, now that everything’s out in the open — the marriage, the baby — any regrets about keeping it quiet?

Max: No regrets. We weren’t hiding it. We just wanted it to be ours, for a while. And now that it’s out — I still don’t regret it. She’s my wife. We’re starting a family. That’s all that matters.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1TeaSpiller GUYS. BELLE VERSTAPPEN AND ARTHUR LECLERC JUST HAD A FULL CONVERSATION IN PUBLIC. IN THE PADDOCK. WITHOUT CRYING OR YELLING. IS THIS... PEACE???

@/GridGossip She smiled. Arthur smiled. THEY HUGGED. AFTER EVERYTHING. I AM EMOTIONALLY UNPREPARED FOR A SIBLING REUNION ARC.

@/FerrariTears So let me get this straight:

Belle’s bump is showing

She’s glowing in Red Bull merch

She’s joking with Arthur in front of the media

Max is stonewalling everything Leclerc I LOVE MESS.

@/MaxIsWinning Max ignoring the Leclercs like they’re on a different time zone. King behavior. You forgot her birthday, now you don’t get to be part of the baby era.

@/PaddockSecrets Reminder that Belle’s horse Blanche was sold when she was a child because the family couldn’t “afford it” while Charles was climbing through F2. AND THEY FORGOT HER BIRTHDAY. Forgiveness would take divine intervention if you ask me.

@/MrsVerstappenStan Imagine selling her horse. Forgetting her birthday. And THEN watching her become Belle Verstappen — loved, thriving, glowing. Redemption arc not guaranteed. But Arthur… maybe.

@/CharlesSlippedUp: Arthur hugging Belle: ✨ hope Charles not even making eye contact: 🚨 flop

@/gridchaosdaily “my wife and lando’s friend made us play mario kart” sir. that’s not a sentence. that’s a romcom premise.

@/f1softlaunches:  “Lando’s friend” is code for “the girl he’s in love with but won’t admit it yet,” pass it on.

@/theblondetrauma: no but who IS lando’s “friend”? because there was a very pretty blonde with Belle Verstappen at McLaren and I’ve seen her before 👀

@/wagsandwifi: So let me get this straight. → Lando crashes with Max in Austria → Max’s WIFE and Lando’s mysterious “FRIEND” stage a Mario Kart therapy night → Lando’s “friend” was at Silverstone, hanging with Belle and Lily → ??? → grid peace is restored SOMEONE WRITE THE FANFICTION

@/pitlaneplants: calling it now: lando’s “friend” is belle verstappen’s blonde best friend she had the ✨vibes✨ and the “i yell at you because i care” energy we love to see it

@/lando_fanacc44:  lando in the cooldown room: 😐 lando being gently bullied into mario kart therapy by a beautiful woman: 😵‍💫💗

@/mcblush:  “max’s wife and lando’s friend” shoutout to the women ending grid wars and fixing male friendships with Mario Kart and lemon tart

@/VerstappenWifeWatch: Max just shutting down the question about the Leclercs with "that’s private — Belle is my wife" I have never seen protective energy delivered with so much calm fury. Iconic behavior. 10/10 boundary setting.

@/RedBullRoyalty Arthur Leclerc hugging his very pregnant sister in the paddock while Max is across the track refusing to even mention her family by name… The range. The narrative arc. The fanfic writes itself.

@/MonacoMess: Still not over Max going "no regrets" about keeping Belle and the baby private. That man would burn the world for her and smile while doing it.

***

They were finally home.

The kind of home that smelled like lavender laundry soap and the ocean just beyond the windows. Monaco glittered outside in quiet golds and silvers, but the apartment was calm — lights low, Belle curled into the corner of the sofa with her tea and a blanket thrown over her legs, Max next to her with one hand resting instinctively on the soft curve of her belly.

It had been a long few weeks — Silverstone, media frenzy, a dozen headlines he wanted to ignore and a thousand photos of Belle he secretly saved just for himself. She was glowing. She was exhausted. She was everything.

He was just about to suggest a bath and bed when her phone rang.

Belle blinked, startled. “It’s the stables,” she murmured, already sitting up straighter.

Max was alert in an instant.

She answered with a soft, “Bonjour?”

There was a pause — a breath of silence — and then her entire expression changed.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, hand flying to her chest. “She’s foaling?”

Max didn’t understand the words, but he understood her.

She looked up at him with wide, bright eyes. “Fleur’s in labor.”

Max was already standing. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t mind?”

He gave her a look. “You want me to say no to the birth of your horse’s foal? No chance.”

She was already grabbing her coat — or trying to. He beat her to it, wrapping it gently around her shoulders. She still moved too quickly sometimes, like she forgot that there was more of her now. He kissed her forehead, then her temple, and helped her into her shoes before she could argue about it.

They were in the car five minutes later, tires rolling over the slick stone streets, headlights cutting through the dark. Belle’s hands were fidgeting in her lap — not anxious, exactly, but alive. Lit up.

Max reached over and took her hand. “We’re going to be right there.”

She nodded, eyes misty. “I just… I didn’t think I’d get to be there. Not after Blanche was sold. Not after everything.”

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

Blnache had been a wound that Belle rarely touched. He knew the story — the silent heartbreak of a teenage girl watching her family sell off the one thing that made her feel seen. 

And now she had a piece of her back. In Fleur. And in the foal Fleur was carrying. 

Twenty minutes later, they were at the stables — warm hay, soft light, the familiar murmur of quiet voices around the foaling stall. The stablemaster nodded respectfully as Belle approached, and Max stayed a step behind her, hand on her back.

Fleur was standing, breathing hard, but calm.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Belle whispered, moving to the edge of the stall, voice thick with emotion. “You waited for me.”

Max watched the way her shoulders dropped — how her whole body softened in relief. She was radiant in that moment. Full of life in more ways than one.

***

The air in the stable was warm and heavy, thick with the smell of straw and anticipation.

Belle stood near the edge of the stall, one hand braced lightly on the wooden rail, the other pressed instinctively over the curve of her belly. Fleur stood only feet away, her coat shimmering with sweat, her breath fast but steady. 

Max stood at her side, quiet and solid, one hand resting between her shoulder blades. She could feel the tension in his posture — not nerves, exactly, but something taut and controlled. He hadn’t said much since they arrived, but he hadn’t let go of her once, either.

“She’s doing so well,” Belle whispered, voice caught between awe and something close to reverence.

Fleur shifted, groaned low in her throat. 

“Is it weird I feel like I’m going to cry?” Belle asked softly.

“No,” Max said, his voice low. “But if you do, I might have to join you.”

She turned to look at him — and froze.

He was pale.

Not just pale but white, like all the blood had drained from his face in the last five minutes. He wasn’t breathing heavily, wasn’t panicking — but he definitely looked like someone who was two seconds away from either sitting down or passing out.

“Max,” she said slowly, hiding a smile. “Are you okay?”

He gave her a tight, slightly wild-eyed smile. “I’m fine. Just… watching a living thing emerge from another living thing. With hooves.”

Belle covered her mouth to muffle the laugh. “You’re not going to faint, are you?”

He exhaled through his nose. “No. Definitely not. Maybe.”

“Max.”

He gave her a shaky thumbs up. “It’s good practice, right? For when it’s our turn?”

Belle wheeze-laughed. She couldn’t help it — the image of Max holding her hand during labor looking like this while trying to coach her through contractions was too much.

“You’re so pale,” she whispered, wiping tears from her eyes — this time from laughter. “You look like someone just told you the Red Bull sim rig was down permanently.”

“I am fine,” Max muttered with as much dignity as a man watching a horse give birth for the first time could muster.

But then — just like that — it happened.

Fleur let out a final grunt and shifted her weight, and there he was.

The foal.

Small and slick and dark as midnight, legs too long for his body, ears flicking even before he finished unfolding into the world. 

Belle’s breath hitched in her throat.

A black colt.

Perfect and new and hers — Fleur’s — theirs.

She felt Max slide an arm around her waist, steadying her.

She didn’t even realize she was crying until he pressed a kiss to the side of her head and whispered, “He’s beautiful.”

Belle nodded, unable to look away. “He is.”

Her heart felt too big for her chest.

The foal wobbled on unsteady legs, blinking at the world like it might blink back. Fleur turned her head and nuzzled him gently, and Belle’s hand tightened on the railing.

“I didn’t think I’d get this moment,” she said, voice barely above a breath. “I thought I lost it.”

Max didn’t answer right away. Just held her, safe and warm and unwavering.

“You didn’t lose anything,” he murmured. “You were always meant to come back for it.”

Belle let the words settle, let the tears fall freely this time.

She reached for Max’s hand and squeezed it tight.

And as the colt took his first few wobbly steps beneath Fleur’s watchful eye, Belle felt something click into place — a full-circle kind of peace.

She had a home. A future. A family. And now, a foal. Black as night, born of hope.

***

Instagram Post: @/belleverstappen

Comments: 

@/oscarpiastri:  I’m sorry… did you two just name a foal like he’s about to pull a sword from a stone and rule Camelot?

@/lando.jpg:  ngl I want to meet him. does he bite?

@/emilie_abadie: the knight of your little kingdom is HERE and he’s STUNNING. (also please send pics daily or i will riot)

@/danielricciardo: I need to meet this horse immediately. Also, calling it now: Galahad will grow up to have a mane like Zeus and kick fences for fun.

@/arthur_leclerc: He’s perfect. Fleur looks proud. Please give him a carrot from me.

@/f1softlaunches: not belle casually dropping the most magical name + max almost fainting + making the entire grid feral in one post

@/gridchaosdaily: THE HORSE HAS A NAME MAX ALMOST FAINTED BELLE IS CRYING I AM ALSO CRYING WE ARE ALL CRYING

@/maxverstappen1: That’s slander. I was visibly concerned not fainting. (He’s already faster than me out of the gate, btw.)

@/georgerussell63: I’ve never seen a newborn horse look so judgmental. Galahad is already disappointed in us all.

@/sebastianvettelofficial: This is the best kind of news. Congratulations to you both. 🐎💚

@/alex.albon: Max Verstappen: World Champion, Sim King, nearly taken out by a baby horse.

@redbullracing Congratulations to the newest honorary team member 🐴💙 (Do we need to start making Galahad merch??)

@/carlossainz55:  i would’ve actually fainted. respect to max for holding the line under pressure.

@/victoriaverstappen:  Driver, Husband, Future Horse Dad of the Year. Congrats! Galahad is beautiful, Belle! 🐎✨

@/tifosimess Raise your hand if you're emotionally compromised over a foal you’ve never met 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♂️

@/f1softlaunches: welcome to the grid, galahad verstappen, first of his name, foal of fleur, baby of belle, breaker of max’s cardiovascular stability

@f1babywatch Was Fleur okay?? Did everything go smoothly?? I’m emotionally invested in your horse now 😭

↪@/belleverstappen She was amazing. Strong and calm the whole way through — typical Fleur. She’s resting well, and already giving Galahad the “don’t wander too far” look. 🐴💕

@/hoofandheartdressage:  Do you mind sharing who the sire is? That colt looks beautiful 👀

↪@belleverstappen: Not at all! Galahad’s sire is Glamourdale. He and Fleur made magic. ✨

@/formulaphoenix:  Does Galahad live in Monaco with you guys?? Because I’m picturing a tiny foal climbing apartment stairs.

↪@/belleverstappen: As chaotic as that sounds, no — he’s staying at the stables just outside of town. 

@/ponyclubpatrol: Congratulations!!! Galahad is GORGEOUS 😍 Are you keeping him or planning to sell?

↪@/belleverstappen: He’s staying with us. 100%. He’s already family.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/f1inlaw: genuinely not sure if galahad is a foal, a future champion, or the next king of arthurian legend. either way, he’s already outpacing us all.

@/wifeguyverstappen: max really married belle, bought her a horse, stood next to her while she sobbed through foaling, NEARLY FAINTED, and then posted “he’s already faster than me” like a proud dad

who is this man. i love him.

@/mclarenshadowtea: Lando’s in the comments like “does he bite”

Sir you have never wanted to pet something so badly in your life

@/sainzsimping:  Carlos saying he would’ve fainted is the most relatable part of this whole saga can’t believe max verstappen held it together while watching childbirth but make it horse edition

@/gridgossip:  MAX. ALMOST. FAINTED. OVER A HORSE. THE WORLD CHAMPION WAS TAKEN OUT BY A FOAL NAMED GALAHAD. I CAN’T BREATHE.

@/f1babywatch:  Me, emotionally stable: Also me, reading “Welcome to the world, Galahad”: 🥹😭🫠

@/chequeredhearts:  Belle Verstappen crying. Fleur calmly foaling. Max barely standing. Galahad judging us all. This is Shakespeare with horses and I’m obsessed.

@/f1horsepower:  Galahad’s dad is GLAMOURDALE?? You mean the 2022 world champion in the Grand Prix Special and Grand Prix Freestyle Glamourdale? Dutch Warmblood Glamourdale?!  No wonder the colt’s already a legend. Give him a paddock and a pony podcast immediately.

@/tifosimess: Raise your hand if you're emotionally compromised over a foal you’ve never met 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♂️🙋

@/rainbowroadgp:  “Fleur is fine, Max nearly fainted” is the single greatest Verstappen update I’ve ever read. Give her the driver seat.

@/fernandofanz: not me plotting how to break into a stable in Monaco just to meet Galahad.

@mcpradaqueen

No bc imagine Blanche looking down from her pasture in the sky like “that’s my girl. look at her. excellent name choice. 10/10 job, baby human.”

 @/f1ponygirls: you don’t understand. blanche was taken from belle as a sacrifice to fund her brothers’ careers. and now her daughter just had a foal that stays. Galahad is not just a colt. he is history rewritten with love.

@/tifosimess: I was not prepared for the generational symbolism of Blanche → Fleur → Galahad

this is a bloodline forged in heartbreak and healed with love and carrots@/godsavethefoal Blanche was taken from her. Fleur was given back to her. And now Galahad is hers from the start. THE HEALING. THE HERITAGE. THE VERSTAPPEN EQUINE DYNASTY.

[peaceful-metanoia]

I'm an asexual lesbian which means that I'm attracted to a woman.

XDDDDD completely accurate. Many women, but yes

@caliginouss @kitkatlover015

I'm asexual which means I'm attracted to the exit.

Well...I mean...accurate?

[911onabcbts]

why did you chose those pictures its buddie propaganda

i didn’t choose anything 😭

[angy-brows]

Mini comic to continue with the “What If They Met” scenario that @laserbobcat did with Hastur and their yellow cat, Morgan

I hope I drew him okay 😭

[moonstruckme]

I’m asking nicely and cutely for a request for how poly!marauders x reader would handle a house full of norovirus or food poisoning in their small apartment. Everyone just sick as hell but also trying to take care of each other at the same time. Cute but chaos, as they already are 24/7 but like worse 😭

Thank you for requesting (so nicely and cutely!) angel <3

cw: vomit

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 640 words

Remus returns home from the corner store like a hero from war. 

“Thank you,” you say, reaching upward from your curled-up position on the couch for a vitamin water. You wince when the slight movement upsets your stomach. 

“No problem,” Remus replies. His hand trembles slightly as he passes it to you. He passes another one to James, who stops him when he starts away from the couch. 

“Sit down,” James coaxes. “You’re meant to be resting.” 

Remus looks inclined to protest, but one kind tug from James is enough for him to relent. He sits down next to you, toeing off his shoes. “Where’s Sirius?” he asks. 

“Hogging the toilet.” James fishes in the paper grocery bag for another vitamin water. 

Remus makes a soft, concerned noise. “Still?” 

“Still,” you confirm through a sigh. You nudge your bucket a few inches to the left so Remus doesn’t accidentally knock it with his foot. 

“He just doesn’t want to give up his prime real estate.” James kisses Remus’ hair, standing with the vitamin water in hand. “I’ll bring this to him. You lie down.” 

Remus, not usually one to be told what to do, eases himself sideways without complaint. He ends up half on top of you, his body between your legs and his head on your chest. 

“This okay?” he mumbles. 

“Mhm.” You sound just as exhausted as he does, and you didn’t even make the excursion to the grocery. “You’re really warm.” 

“Yeah, so are you.” 

You lay a clammy hand atop Remus’ limp hair. It’s the best you can do for affection right now: wordless commiseration. Your stomach has been twisting in knots and turning itself inside out since the early hours of the morning, and after spending hours taking turns with your boyfriends being sick in the toilet or a bucket or the kitchen sink, you seem all finally, thoroughly worn out. 

Remus falls asleep quicker than you’ve ever known him to. His slow, even breaths fan hot over your chest, lips smushed in a sleepy pout like he’s laying a kiss over your heart. The cruel lines slicing across his face stand out against his flushed skin. 

James comes back a few minutes later with Sirius in tow and Sirius’ laptop tucked under his arm. They make nearly identical pitying faces when they see Remus conked out on your chest. 

“Did he get any food?” Sirius asks, peering into the grocery bag. Where Remus is flushed with the fever from your shared illness, Sirius has paled, his complexion gone wan and greyish behind his curtain of dark hair. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble. “What’s with the laptop?” 

“He was leaving a review of the restaurant from yesterday,” James explains, setting the laptop down on the coffee table before collapsing back onto the couch with a sigh. 

“They bloody deserve it.” Sirius tears open a packet of crackers. He sets a few in James’ hand with a look that promises vengeance if he doesn’t eat them, then does the same to you. “Our story needs to be told.” 

“I didn’t say it didn’t.” James piles on top of you and Remus, practically contorting himself to rest his head on Remus’ thigh. It doesn’t look particularly comfortable. 

You eye Sirius where he’s curling up in the armchair. “Drink your vitamin water,” you remind him. 

“Eat your crackers,” he counters. “And sweetheart, I love you, but if you don’t move that bucket away from me I’m going to be sick all over the three of you.” 

Remus makes a drowsy whining sound, like he’s protesting this even in sleep. 

“I cleaned it out,” you say, defensive. 

Sirius’ nose wrinkles. “I can smell the remnants of vomit past.”

James reaches over, sliding your bucket across the floor. 

Sirius collapses back onto the throw pillow with a sigh. “Thank you.”

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Your people

Tags: trueform!Sukuna x fem!reader, virgin!reader, plussized!reader, reader has a vagina, Sukuna has two dicks, softer!Sukuna, Sukuna’s a chubby chaser, exhibitionism, praise kink, not proofread, nsfw, mdni

Synopsis: Sukuna makes you his queen, and he takes you for the first time in front of all his people.

An: This is based off a hentai I saw once. I do not remember the name 😭 Also, I apologize I gave up on this fic and it quickly derailed to mindless smut.

“I don’t… I don’t think I can do it…” You stumble over your words as you look towards the glass door that leads to your expansive balcony. All of Sukuna’s… and your subjects will be able to be seen from the balcony. You’ll be on full display.

Sukuna cocks an eyebrow at you as he witnesses you getting cold feet. It was to be expected. You’re fully human with morals and a conscience intact. Curses rarely ever had those two things. Besides, you weren’t use to the customs of the court.

“You don’t wish to be claimed by me in front of my people?” He asks, leaning against the door to block your vision of the outside. It was tradition for the king to take his wife in front of all of his subjects to mark her as his territory. While Sukuna didn't abide by most traditions, he was quite fond of this one.

This also held double meaning for curses. A virgin queen being taken by their king in front of them was said to bring prosperity and power amongst all of them. The sight of innocence being tainted by the true apex of evil was empowering for all to witness.

“It’s.. I..” Your words keep failing you. Sukuna, giving you a fair shot, had warned you about this custom. He had been courting you for a while now, but he always declined taking things any further than dry humping. When you flat out begged for him, he finally told you his reasoning for keeping your virginity intact.

It’s just a one time deal. It’s basically consummating your marriage to him… in front of 500 curses… No big deal, right?

"I want to keep my dress on." You compromise. Maybe the experience would be less humiliating if you weren't fully naked and vulnerable.

Sukuna's eyes wander your form twice over as if he's carefully calculating if he could sacrifice the pleasure of seeing your tits bounce with each thrust.

"You wish for me to hike your skirt up and pull your panties down like you're some quick fuck?" He tsks, rolling his eyes. "You are my wife. I'm going to take great pride in undressing you."

"For 500 curses to see,” you mutter as you avoided his gaze.

"They're going to see me naked as well." Sukuna shrugs like it's just another day for him.

“It’s different for you. I don’t know if you have the ability to feel shame,” you retort.

“You feel shameful about your body?” He asks as he cocks an eyebrow up. “No.. no, that just won’t do. My queen will not be shameful. Come here.”

You swallow thickly before slowly rising up from where you were sitting. Your feet barely pick up off the floor as you scoot yourself closer to him.

Sukuna clicks his tongue with disapproval before he wraps a firm but gentle hand around your arm. “Trust your husband and your king on this,” he whispers into your ear before he walks you out onto the balcony.

Your heart beat pulses wildly as you look out to the crowd of curses that gathered around the estate to watch you and Sukuna solidify your marriage.

Claps erupt from the crowd. Those who are able to cheer begin to do so.

Sukuna’s hands rub up and down your arms encouragingly. “They’re here to watch you, my flower.”

He then slices his hand through the air, and the crowd goes silent. “Kneel before your new queen.” His voice demands lowly.

The swarm of curses immediately bow their heads down, touching their foreheads to the dirt beneath their feet. Not one dared to defy Sukuna.

Nerves swarm your stomach. You can’t believe that you’re actually about to go through with this. Why did you have to fall in love with the king of curses?

Sukuna stands behind you, and his lower set of hands are placed on your hips while his upper set is still rubbing your shoulders and arms. He tilts his head down towards the crook of your neck.

“Let yourself feel me, flower.” His voice rumbles in your ear before his lips gently drag against the crook of your neck, causing you to shiver. He then presses slow open-mouthed kisses along your neck towards your collarbone to your shoulder.

You slowly allow your eyes to flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. No one dared to utter a word while Sukuna held his court’s attention. The only soft sounds to be heard were the sounds of his lips pressing against your skin.

His upper set of hands slowly untied the corset to your dress, and he used his thumbs on his lower set of hands to massage your hips and back. “Doing so good for me, petal. Do you want more?”

You sheepishly nod in response with a small hum of approval. You do want more, even if there was a crowd of curses before you.

“Mmm, that’s my queen,” he hums against your skin, nipping at your neck as his hands work faster to get the dress off you. To say he’s excited would be an understatement. It’s taken every bit of self control in Sukuna to not plow you into oblivion every time your sweet lips meet his.

The white fabric rustles as it falls to the ground. Per Sukuna’s request, you’re completely bare underneath. You bite your lip, leaning your head back towards his shoulder as you feel the shame seeping in.

“They do not see you, petal. Their eyes are on the ground,” he reassures you lowly. “This is for me right now. Do you understand?”

Your body shifts slightly, still feeling shy about your current predicament.

“Face me.” He steps back away from you, letting his hands fall to his sides as he expects for you to turn towards him, which you do… slowly.

Sukuna grunts lowly. The sight of your full breasts and plump hips greet him. Your plush tummy that acts as protection for your sacred womb makes his dicks harden in response. His eyes trail over the stretch marks that spread along your thighs and stomach. He feels his breath grow shallow. How do you not see the way your body appeals to him?

“The moon and the stars quake in the presence of your beauty. You are most precious to me, petal. You do not need to worry about anyone’s opinion on you other than your own. If anyone has anything to say, they can bring their concerns to me, and they’ll be dealt with swiftly.”

You feel tears sting in the back of your eyes. Despite marrying the incarnate of evil, Sukuna has been kinder to you than any human on this planet, even if he is rough around the edges.

“I love you, ‘kuna. I’m sorry to burden you with my own self conscious behaviors.”

“Why are you apologizing to me? You haven’t wronged me. Don’t apologize.” His hands reach up and gently cup your cheeks. “Let me have you wholly. I’ve been very patient, and now, I wish to claim my queen.”

Your hands find his chest as you slide your palms down his silk robes. The robes do absolutely nothing to hide the two monstrous cocks beneath them. You glance down and bite your lip gently from the sight. How you’re going to fit both of them inside you…? You’re unsure.

“I’m ready,” you softly respond with a small nod.

“Ready for what? Be specific.”

“I’m ready for you to take me, ‘kuna. I want you to claim me in front of your people and let them know that I’m entirely yours and no one else’s.”

One of his lower hands roughly swats against your round ass, causing you to jump forward slightly and gasp. The fat on your ass ripples from the harsh blow. One of his other hands reaches up and grabs your chin roughly, tilting your face to look up at him. “Good girl.”

His lips enraptures yours, and one of his lower hands slips between your thighs. When his fingers are met with slick, he groans into your mouth.

Your hands roam his chest through his robes as he slowly begins to rub his thick fingers against your slick folds. At this point, it's just you two. Your mind hasn't even thought about how your body looks or if the curses are gazing up at you.

Wanting to have skin-to-skin contact, you work to slip his robe off of his wide shoulders, exposing his scarred body for the world to see. Your fingertips gently dance across each and every discolored marking on his skin.

"You're testing my patience, petal." His voice is nearly a growl in warning, and he swiftly plunges two fingers into your tight wet entrance. The wet sound almost came across as a 'pop' while your cunt worked to accommodate his fingers.

"O-oh! shit..." you pant, burying your face into Sukuna's collarbone.

"I know, petal, I know. I have to prep you." The obscene sounds of his fingers slowly pumping in and out of your wet channel filled the air. "Fuck. You're doing so good for me."

"S'kuna..." you whine, grabbing onto his arms for stability. Your knees nearly buckle as he stuffs in a third finger.

"'s gonna be a tight stretch, petal. You can take it though. You're gonna take whatever I give you, isn't that right?"

Your eyes are damn near rolling into the back of your head from how good his fingers feel. You finally get to soothe the dull empty ache that's been impossible to ignore since you and Sukuna became serious.

"Oh my god," spills from your lips as soon as he curls his fingers, pressing against that one spot that causes flurries to dance across your vision.

"I am your god, and you're going to worship me with that pretty little cunt of yours." He suddenly withdrew his fingers, drawing a whine out from your lips.

"I was close..." you whimpered as he spun you back around to face the curses who were still kneeling before you two. His hand shoved you against the railing, guiding your hips to arch back towards him.

"Don't worry, petal. You'll be close again before you know it." His hand wraps around one of his cocks, carefully fisting it as he looked at how pretty you were on display for him.

"Rise, and witness your king claim his queen," Sukuna ordered his people. His tip slowly nudges between your folds, gathering your slick onto his head.

You're too needy to even pay any mind to the curses. Your eyes were half-lidded, clouding your vision. You instinctively pushed your hips out more for your husband.

"Look at you," he lowly purred as he leaned over your back, pressing kisses against your ear and neck. His cockhead slowly nudged its way between your silken walls. His lower hands gripped your hips tightly. "Fuck... biiig stretch, petal."

"O-oh! Oh fuck-!" Your hands gripped the metal railing tightly. The intrusion was way more intense than you could've imagined. Involuntarily, tears sprung into your eyes.

"Such a fucking good girl~ Shit. You've been holding out on me, huh? Fuckin' cunt is tighter than I expected."

You choke out a gasp as he has to forcibly shove his hips forward to even make any progress. Your snug grip nearly has him locked in place while your soaking wet cunt tries to swallow him in.

"Su-kuna.." you whine between hiccups.

The curses are all watching in awe as Sukuna stretches you out with only one of his cocks. The other is smushed between your pillowy thighs, glazing them in a sheen of pre-cum. It feels like the crowd holds their breath until they spot it.

The light dribble that runs down one thigh... the subtle red ring around one of Sukuna's cocks. You feel a soft 'pop' inside you as Sukuna pushes past the tight ring of muscle.

"Ohh, there it is. You're all mine now, flower." He continues to slide in until he's fully sheathed. It nearly feels like he's trying to bully his way straight to your womb as his tip rubs against your cervix.

Your entire body is tingling, and you feel your legs already begin to tremble. This is what you get for marrying a monster.

It feels like his natural musk floods your nose, and you feel him everywhere possible.

Sukuna grunts as he tries to pump his hips. Key word: tries. It feels like his cock is being sealed by your warm gummy walls. "Ngh... you like that so much you don't wanna let me go, huh?" he taunts as he has to begin jerking his hips back and forth to get any sort of friction.

His lower cock is so heavy between your thighs. His thick shaft rubs against you, spreading your clear fluids everywhere. The sounds of sticky wet plaps are impossible to ignore.

"So good-! Fuck, you're so d-deep!" you pitifully cry while one of his upper hands grabs a handful over your hair, jerking your head up to look at your people.

Instead of the disgusted glares you expected to see, you're only met with gazes of wonder and amazement. They're truly enamored by you and your body, watching the most natural yet primitive action in the world.

"I can't believe I waited this long to feel you wrapped around me, flower. You feel like fucking heaven," he growls into your ear as his hips finally settle on a punishing pace. Your body is nearly knocked forward over the ledge with each brutal thrust.

Your cunt flutters around him as you feel a knot settle into your stomach. "I... Oh god, I'm gonna- I'm close, S'kuna..."

"I told you so." he grunts as his cock continues to bully its way against your cervix. He's leaking copious amounts of hot pre-cum inside you, lubricating you adequately so he can slide in and out. "Let go, petal. Soak my cock."

Your eyes squeeze shut as you hold your breath. Sukuna's red ochre eyes watch as your face twists in pleasure. "Breathe," he demands.

As soon as you push out a breath, you feel your orgasm break. Your cunt spasms uncontrollably around his girthy shaft as you babble about how good his dick feels inside you.

"God-fucking-dammit," he manages to strangle out. His thrusts grow rougher as his pelvic bone slaps against your ass rapidly, chasing after his own orgasm. "You ready, petal? Here it comes..."

He hunches over your back before his teeth dig into the flesh of your shoulder. You writhe in his tight grip as his cock floods you with his seed. You lean your head back against his shoulder as you're reduced to a mewling mess.

The curses surrounding the estate begin to cheer and clap loudly. Most of these curses have been alive for several hundred years, but they hadn't seen a claiming ritual yet. It was a joyous occasion for them.

Sukuna slowly relaxes his grip as his hips slowly rock against you, fucking you through your orgasm as well as his own.

"That was a lot," you murmur in a slurred tone, thoroughly fucked-out after your first time.

"You want some praise now?" Sukuna's gravely voice rumbles from behind you. He's gently coating your skin in sweet, soft kisses. "You've only done half the work, you know..."

You're about to bite back some remark, thinking he was referring to how he was the one doing most of the moving. However, your words die in your throat as he slowly drags his cock out from the warmth of your entrance.

He then reaches down, and he guides his second cock inside, plugging you up once again. One of his other hand then cups your breast, lightly pinching your nipple as he chuckles from the sounds of your whining.

"W-wait! I'm already sore.." you whine as you try to scramble away from his second monstrous cock. His tip was dark red, and you could feel him throbbing inside you already from neglect.

Your cunt was already accepting him in even if your words were misleading. Your body craved him, all of him.

"Don't be lazy, petal. I'm no where near done with you yet."

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby

[viaxslz]

⭔﹐⌗ ATTENTION ﹕ᶻz﹒

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 gn!reader, cw: established relationship, post argument, making up, cold shoulders, pet names, oh take me back to this era 😭😭, not proofread :P

CHAN

You’ve been giving Chan the cold shoulder for hours after your argument. arms crossed, death glare loaded, and air pods in even though they’re not playing anything. Chan knows he's in trouble. You’re not even acknowledging the dog pics he sent you. The dog pics. That’s when he knows it’s serious. Cue Chan pacing back and forth in the living room like a sitcom dad. He's googling "how to apologize to your emotionally intelligent but terrifyingly stubborn significant other who might actually kill you with their eyes." No real help. He decides to go with the classic Chan combo: guilt + dramatic flair + ✨stupid charm✨. Next thing you know, he’s dramatically fake-sniffling outside your door with a Bluetooth speaker playing “Apologize” by OneRepublic at full volume. “Baby… it’s too late to apolo—oh wait, no, it’s NOT too late! That’s why I’m here!” You crack the door open just to glare, and that’s when he shoves a plate of perfectly microwaved dino nuggets into your hands like it’s a peace treaty. “I made these with love. And regret. Mostly regret. But also love.” You’re still silent. So he pulls out his final weapon: a handwritten letter addressed to “The Love of My Life (Who Could Annihilate Me With One Look).” It’s full of sappy lines like “Your silence hurts more than leg day” and “You’re my favorite notification and also includes a stick figure drawing of you kicking his butt, labeled “Me if I ever mess up again.” You finally snort, trying to stay mad but failing. He gasps. “Was that a laugh? Did you just—was that forgiveness I heard in your nose?” You: “That was me trying not to choke on a nugget, actually.” Chan grins like he just won an Oscar. “I’ll take it.” And before you know it, you’re in his arms, still pretending you’re annoyed, while he whispers sweet apologies into your ear and asks if you want to co-parent a puppy someday because, you know, trust rebuilding.

LEE KNOW

Minho isn’t the type to beg for forgiveness. At least, that’s what he tells himself. In reality, he’s been sulking in the kitchen for an hour, dramatically peeling oranges like they personally offended him because someone (you) won’t talk to him after your argument. He’s not even sure who was right anymore. Probably you. But admitting that out loud would break his cool, and that’s illegal in Minho Land. Instead, he starts making increasingly loud commentary to his cats. “Soonyoung, do you think I was being unreasonable? Hmm? No? Exactly. At least someone understands me.” You’re in the next room, scrolling on your phone, clearly ignoring him. He walks by casually and accidentally drops a photo of you two on the floor. “Oops,” he says way too loudly. “Didn’t mean to drop this beautiful memory we shared when we were still talking to each other like normal, emotionally stable people.” Still nothing. You don’t even blink. That’s when he resorts to phase two: petty bribery. He slides a plate of your favorite snack across the table toward you without saying a word. There’s a sticky note on it that says: “I’m still mad but I miss you more. Don’t let the cat eat this.” You glance at it, unimpressed. So he ups the ante and sends you a meme one of himself, edited to look like he’s crying in a corner with the caption: “Me after realizing I can’t win a fight against my insanely hot and emotionally intelligent partner.” Finally, you let out a laugh, and he looks up from across the room like a cat that’s pretending it doesn’t care but has been watching you the whole time. “Oh, so you do still love me,” he smirks, leaning against the counter. You: “I still haven’t forgiven you.” Minho: “That’s okay. I forgive me for both of us.” You roll your eyes and throw a pillow at him. He catches it, kisses it dramatically, and says, “Tell your representative we accept the terms.” Later, he lets Dori sit in your lap while he curls up next to you, whispering, “I hate fighting with you. Let’s not do that again. Unless you’re into angry make-ups. In which case, I’m very available.”

CHANGBIN

Changbin messed up. He knows it. You know it. The neighbors probably know it because you haven’t responded to a single thing he’s said in two hours and he’s been dramatically sighing every five minutes like someone just told him protein shakes were banned. He starts pacing the apartment like he’s mentally preparing for a final boss fight. Even his muscles look tense. He mutters to himself like a stressed-out drama lead. "Okay Changbin, you’ve survived leg day, you’ve survived Jihoon’s cooking, you can survive this." He tries casual tactics first. Walks by you holding a gallon of water like he’s not suffering. Drops a casual “sup” in the most broken voice ever. You don’t even blink. So he levels up: Operation Cute & Desperate. You hear rustling in the bedroom. Fifteen minutes later, he walks out in your hoodie, the one that’s comically tight on him and a headband with little bear ears. His arms are crossed. His face is dead serious. “I’m here to apologize,” he says, voice an octave higher. “As your oversized emotional support bear.” You blink. He waddles closer, overly dramatic. “I’ve been thinking about my actions. While lifting. And crying. Slightly. Okay maybe a lot. But my point is look into these bear ears and tell me you don’t miss me.” You burst out laughing. He grins like he just benched 300 pounds of forgiveness. But he’s not done. He dramatically pulls out a tiny tub of ice cream from behind his back like it’s an engagement ring. “I come bearing peace offerings and high-calorie emotional healing. If this doesn’t work, I’ll let you pick the next gym playlist. Even if it’s… ballads.” You, narrowing your eyes: “Even the sad ones with rain sound effects?” He winces. “Even those.” You pull him into a hug, bear ears squishing slightly, and he lets out a victorious sigh.

HYUNJIN

The argument was dumb. Like, really dumb. Something about the dishes and his suspicious ability to avoid them like they’re cursed. But now you’re not talking to him, and Hyunjin is spiraling. He’s lying facedown on the floor like a Victorian man fainting in a corset. Felix: “Dude, are you okay?” Hyunjin, muffled into the carpet: “No. My soulmate hates me and the world has lost color.” He tries texting you, but you left him on read. Tragic. So he gets creative. You walk into the living room and freeze. There’s a handwritten note taped to the wall that says: “In this house, i love and respect the queen (you). Even when she is intimidating and scary and not talking to me.” Below it: a trail of rose petals… leading to the kitchen… where you find Hyunjin in an apron, holding a vacuum cleaner in one hand and a spatula in the other like some kind of domestic apology warrior. “I have vacuumed. I have cooked. I have suffered.” You stare at him. He drops the spatula. “Do I get forgiveness points if I say you’re prettier when you’re mad?” You squint. “No.” He gasps. “How dare. I’m literally groveling. Do you know how much I hate crumbs on my socks? I vacuumed for you. That’s love.” You try to keep a straight face, but he’s got that kicked puppy look and there’s flour in his hair. It’s… kind of adorable. “I’m still mad.” He nods solemnly, walks over, and holds up a crayon drawing of the two of you holding hands, labeled: “Me + The Love of My Life (please forgive me I am weak without you)” You burst out laughing, finally giving in. He beams like he just won an award. Hyunjin, hugging you tightly: “I’ll do dishes every day this week.” You: “And next week.” Hyunjin: “Let’s not push it.”

HAN

Han is not handling this well. You're ignoring him and he’s been pacing the room like a raccoon on Red Bull. The argument was over something stupid (probably him forgetting to text you back because he was distracted by a pigeon outside), but now you’re giving him the silent treatment and he’s one sad meme away from spiraling. He sends you a voice note titled “Please Listen or I Will Cry in Public” You open it. It’s just him saying “hi” in 27 different accents, followed by a long sigh and then: “I miss you. Also, I stubbed my toe and I feel like that’s karma.” Still no response. So he launches Operation Desperate But Make It Stupid™. You walk into the kitchen to find a post-it note stuck to your favorite snack: “This snack is yours. So is my heart. Please take both.” Then there’s another note on the fridge: “If this is where the cold stuff goes, why are you being so cold to me :(((((” Another one on the toilet: “I flushed my pride. Let me back in your heart.” You’re trying not to laugh, but it’s becoming physically impossible. Then you hear him yell from the living room: “BABY PLEASE I CAN’T WORK UNDER THESE CONDITIONS. I TRIED TO WRITE LYRICS AND THEY TURNED INTO A SAD POEM ABOUT YOUR LEFT EYEBROW.” You peek your head out and he’s sitting dramatically on the floor with a ukulele he can’t play, strumming random strings while freestyle rapping an apology. “I was dumb and now I’m numb, You’re my queen and I’m your crumb, Forgive me please, or I’ll become…A worm.” You: “…A worm?” Jisung: “An unlovable worm.” You finally burst out laughing. He scrambles to his feet like he just got a Grammy and hugs you tight, not letting go. “I’m sorry. I was dumb. I always mess things up but I don’t wanna mess us up. You mean too much to me, even more than ramen. That’s serious.” You: “Even more than convenience store ramen at 3am?” He gasps. “Don’t make me say it again. It hurts.”

FELIX

You’re mad. And Felix? He’s a walking apology wrapped in sunshine and panic. He’s been following you around the apartment at a five-foot distance like a sad Roomba. Every time you turn, he freezes like he’s been caught committing a crime. He tries whispering your name dramatically like a telenovela character. “Y/N… Y/N, please… don’t do this. Not like this. Don’t ghost me while we’re still in the same house. It’s emotional terrorism.” You ignore him. So he leaves and comes back wearing the most ridiculous outfit known to mankind: your fuzzy pink robe, heart-shaped sunglasses, and a single oven mitt. “Look,” he says, dead serious. “This is what losing your affection did to me. I have no sense of fashion. No sense of self. I tried to toast bread but forgot to plug in the toaster.” You raise an eyebrow. So he ups the ante. Grabs your plushie and gently makes it “walk” toward you with a high-pitched voice. “Hi! I’m Mr. Snuggles and I think you should forgive Lixie because he’s really sorry and his freckles are crying.” You cover your face trying not to laugh. “Help what???” Then he puts the plushie down, sighs deeply, and finally drops the crack for a second. “I know I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to. I’d never do anything to make you feel ignored or unimportant, but I messed up. So… I’ll keep making a fool of myself until you smile again.” You glance up, and he’s got his arms wide open like a dramatic K-drama confession, still in your robe. You: “You look like a chaotic sleepover aunt.” Him, with the brightest grin: “But am I your forgiven chaotic sleepover aunt?” You sigh, walk over, and hug him. He melts immediately, nearly collapsing with relief. “I’ll be better,” he murmurs into your shoulder. “I promise. Even if I have to learn how to use the toaster properly.”

SEUNGMIN

The argument was small but loud. And now you’ve gone full cold shoulder. No eye contact. No banter. No sarcastic jabs. Nothing. For Seungmin, that’s worse than death. At first, he tries to out-ignore you out of pure spite. He walks past you dramatically sipping water like he’s never been hydrated a day in his life. Slams the cup down. Sighs. Doesn’t look at you. Repeats. Then he escalates. You walk into the kitchen and the fridge has a post-it that says: “This is where cold things go. Just like your heart apparently.” You spot your favorite snack on the counter. The packaging is untouched… but there’s another note: “I was going to eat this out of petty revenge, but I remembered I’m a good person. Unlike some people.” You almost laugh. Almost. Later, you hear him muttering while gaming: “Wow, teammates who actually listen… must be nice…” You finally lose it and throw a pillow at him. He catches it midair like a smug little gremlin and smirks. “So you can still see me. Thought I turned invisible.” You: “You’re so dramatic.” Seungmin, fake offended: “I haven’t even started yet.” Then he softens. Just a little. Barely. “I don’t like fighting with you. And I definitely don’t like not talking to you. I’m still mad, but I miss you more.” He walks over, hands in pockets, and says it without looking directly at you. “I’m sorry for being a jerk. I’m working on it. Please don’t stay mad too long, okay?” You stare at him. He stares at the floor. “…Also I may or may not have named your pillow Kevin and cried into him last night.” You: “You WHAT—” Seungmin: “Shhh. Kevin and I are going through a lot.”

JEONGIN

Jeongin, immediately after the argument: “I don’t care. I’m not apologizing. I was RIGHT.” Jeongin, 20 minutes later, whispering to Hyunjin: “She’s not looking at me. Should I fake an injury?” Hyunjin: “What kind?” Jeongin: “Emotional.” Cue Operation Unbothered (but obviously very bothered). He starts acting extra around the house. Slams drawers. Loudly types on his phone with the keyboard click sounds on. Walks past you with exaggerated sighs and occasional mutters like: “Guess I’ll just go be emotionally damaged… ALONE.” You stay silent. Now it’s desperation hour. He walks in wearing a crown made from a cereal box, holding a mop like a sword. “I have returned from the Kingdom of Regret. I bring apologies and emotional growth.” You blink. He bows deeply, knocking the crown off his head. “Your silence wounds me, fair lady. I shall now sing of my sorrow.” You: “Jeongin, don’t—” Too late. He whips out his phone, plays the most dramatic instrumental music he can find, and starts fake-sobbing like he’s in a historical drama. “Forgive me, for I was young and foolish—AND STUPID. MOSTLY STUPID.” You’re cackling at this point, and he breaks character instantly, grinning like he just won the lottery. “AH, SHE SMILES. I AM REDEEMED.” You: “You’re so annoying.” Him, smug: “But… forgiven?” You roll your eyes, tug him into a hug, and he melts instantly, still holding the mop. “Next time,” you mumble, “just say sorry like a normal person.” He grins into your shoulder. “Where’s the drama in that?”

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @queenofdumbfuckery @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @my-neurodivergent-world @bookswillfindyouaway @beal-o @velvetmoonlght

[incorrectlyours]

18+ MINORS DNI ! saw a tweet about congressman!bucky and thought of a little something. congressman!bucky x female reader in val's gala. some under the table action.

The whole night, Bucky had been doing nothing but constantly tease you: his hand wandering too high up your thigh while you're sitting down, watching his hand slowly dissapear under your dress—then he pulls it away, feigning innocence. He'd even lean closer to you, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers things that made you stiffen in your seat, your mouth going dry with how unbelievably bold he's being tonight. but your cunt definitely isn't.

you want to call him out on it, but every time you open your mouth, the words caught up in your throat. and he just smirks at you, that smug look plastered on his face because he knows what he's doing to you, he knows how much it drives you crazy and desperate for him.

"your pretty litte pussy is gonna leave a mess on that chair if you keep rubbing your thighs like that. is that what you want, baby?" he whispered, seeing you subtly rubbing your thighs together in hope for more pleasure down there.

then, when you don't stop, he slides his hand under your dress once again. your legs parts ever so slightly, just enough for him to access it much more easily. his smirk grew wider at that and you already know he'll tease you more. his hand moved torturously slow, especially when you could finally feel his fingertips against your damp panties.

"fucking dripping for me already, huh?" he leans a little closer, just enough for you to hear him, fingers grazing on your clothed cunt. he licks his lip, desire cursing through him at the sight of your absolutely flushed face and the way you tried to hide it. at that point, you thought he would just tease you and eventually pull his hand away when he gets the reaction he wants from you—then you feel his fingers slip inside your panties, rubbing your clit punishingly slow. you bite your lip, moving your hips a little to grind on his fingers for more. "please, bucky, please— i need more, baby." you whine, trying your hardest not to make any embarasingly loud noise to give both of you out to everyone.

the wetness of your tight cunt made it easy for him to slip two thick fingers inside you, plunging them inside knuckles deep. he's eye-fucking you the whole time too, his eyes filled with lust as he watches your face still contort in pleasure even if you're trying so hard to seem normal. you're breathing harder than usual now, his fingers pumping deep inside you—then he curls them, he hits that spot.

"bucky— ’m so close.." you manage to quietly moan out, voice almost breaking as you bite your lip again, forcing yourself to stay quiet. "mhm, shhh. i know, baby. i know." he coos at you, fingers now picking up its pace. you swear you could hear the wet sounds of your slick pussy every time his fingers thrusts inside you. you feel yourself getting closer and closer with each second, you're about to fall apart on his fingers—then he pulls his fingers out. he fucking pulls out. you're about to actually call him out on his shit, brows furrowed and frustration etched in your face, but then he stands up.

"bathroom, now."

it's actually my first time writing so i kinda wanna know how i did w this one.. 😭 i hope i did okay tho.

[mr-gay-sex]

how the fuck did i forget about Connecticut 😭 42/50

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Girl I love your writing so muchhhh 😭 I will immediately jump in on your special, and I'd love to request number ✨20✨! have a nice day 🖤

Hi, baby! Thank you so much for all your love and support 💜 Sorry it took so long for posting it... Have a nice day too :)

20. You run into him touching himself

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: smut

Alexa, play Resist (Not Gonna Run Away) by TOMORROW X TOGETHER

You hadn’t meant to barge in. The door had been slightly opened, music spilling softly into the hallway— something unmistakably Han’s taste. You figured he’d left it open on purpose, the way he always did when he wanted company but didn’t know how to ask for it.

“Han?”, your voice was gentle, cautious as you nudged the door open.

And then you stopped in your tracks.

There he was— sprawled across the bed, one arm over his eyes, the other buried beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. His hips lifted ever so slightly, chasing a rhythm slow and aching. His lips were parted, breaths shaky, chest rising and falling in sync with the movement of his hand.

He didn’t hear you right away. Didn’t see the way your hand hovered unsure on the doorknob, didn’t feel the jolt that went through you at the sound of your name falling repeatedly from his mouth.

You should’ve backed away, closed the door and pretended you saw nothing.

But something in you wanted to stay. Stunning, maybe. Or something more.

Then his eyes snapped open.

Panic was the first thing that crossed his face. His hand faltered, his mouth opened like he meant to explain or apologize— but no words came out.

You swallowed hard

“I- I didn’t know you were…”, you trailed off, gaze flickering down, heat creeping up your neck.

Han sat up slowly, dragging the blanket over his lap. He looked wrecked— cheeks pink, hair tousled, eyes wide and afraid. But he didn’t look away.

“I was thinking about you”, he said out of the blue, “And I don’t know why I just said that”

You blinked.

“Oh”

And suddenly, the silence between you wasn’t awkward. It was heavy, charged, full of something that had always been there, just never said aloud.

You stepped inside and shut the door behind you.

You blinked. Once, then twice.

Then finally you spun around, covering your face with both hands like that could somehow erase what you'd just seen.

“Oh my God! I didn’t mean… I thought you wanted company! The door was open… you always do that when you’re lonely, and I- I wasn’t trying to…”

You heard the sound of him choking on his own spit, “Lonely?! I was literally jerking off… how is that an open invitation for company?!”

“I don’t know, Han! I THOUGHT YOU WERE SAD!”

He started laughing— loud, breathless, still slightly panting.

“Yeah, okay, I was sad. That’s why I was jerking off! I was trying to cope!”

Your palms slid down your face slowly.

There was a moment of silence, just your breath and his and the rustle of his sheets as he shifted.

“You know what? You can go”, he said softly after a moment. And his voice was weirdly sincere, quite raw, “I mean, you have nothing to do with that, so…”

You didn’t move. You hated that your heart ached at his tone— not the flirty Han or the teasing one, but the one he used when he thought he messed everything up.

You turned around.

He was sitting up now, still under the blanket, neck red up to his ears. But his eyes were still on you

“I don’t want to go”, you admitted.

His eyebrows arched, “You don’t?!”

You shook your head, “I should. I probably will. In like… five minutes. Maybe ten. After I stop seeing your…”

You gestured toward the blanket, “... entire existence burned into my retinas”

Han groaned and dropped his face into his hands, “Please stop saying things like that while my dick is still half hard”

You laughed.

He peeked through his fingers, “You’re laughing?!”

“I’m panicking!”

“Yeah, well…”, he rubbed the back of his neck, “If you’re still here after all that, maybe you, hum… wanna help me finish?”

Your jaw dropped, “Han!”

He held his hands up, eyes wide, “Hey! I’m just saying! You already saw it! And I already said your name while I was doing it. I feel like we crossed a threshold here!”

“You are the worst”, you said, stepping toward the bed

“But also charming?”, he tried, hopeful, “A little bit hot?”

You rolled your eyes and climbed onto the mattress, grabbing the blanket and tossing it aside, “You are ridiculously hot and I hate it”

Han grinned, looking a little dazed as you hovered above him, “Wow. Never thought humiliation could feel this good”

You leaned in close, breath ghosting over his cheek.

“Shut up”, you said as your hand slipped under the waistband of his sweats, fingers curling around him.

He let out a choked sound, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, and flopped dramatically back against the pillows.

“Oh my god, Yn”, he whined, “Marry me”

You chuckled, “You should finish first”

Your fingers moved slowly at first and Han's breath stuttered immediately, hips twitching up like his body was chasing your pace before his brain could even catch up.

"Okay, wow”, he gasped, fisting the sheets, "You… you do things like that? Is this, like, a thing you know how to do?"

You gave him a crooked smile, leaning in close enough that your nose brushed his jaw.

“I’ve got a few talents”, you murmured, “You just caught me off guard earlier with the whole… moaning my name while alone in your bedroom thing”

He let out a strangled laugh, “Yeah, well, you try having a crush this intense without losing your mind. It’s impossible. You're in my brain like a looped tiktok video”

You squeezed just a little tighter and his sentence cut off with a sharp inhale.

“Fuck, okay. Yeah. You… I’ll shut up now.”

Your hand kept moving, sliding and twisting just enough to keep him right on the edge of control. He looked beautiful like that— cheeks flushed, hair messy, jaw tensed as his head tilted back, exposing the long line of his neck.

His sweatpants were shoved down just enough for you to work, his stomach tensing with every stroke, every twist of your wrist.

“Shit, shit, honey…”, he whined, eyes snapping open, glassy and full of lust, “You’re so good at this. I’m gonna… Fuck, I can’t…”

“Then stop trying”, you said, hot against his ear, “Come for me, Sungie”

That broke him.

He swore low like a whisper as his whole body jolted as he spilled over your hand, hips bucking into your grip, thighs trembling. His hand flew up to grab your wrist —but not to stop you, just to ground himself— fingers digging in as if he’d fall apart otherwise.

He was panting, blinking up at you like you’d just knocked the air out of him.

“Holy moly”, he said after a moment, “You’re gonna have to marry me now. I wasn’t kidding”

You laughed, wiping your hand on the corner of the sheet, “We’re not even dating, Han”

“Well, that’s just a formality”, he said weakly, “You just gave me the kind of orgasm that rewires a man’s soul. I’m legally yours now”

You rolled your eyes and dropped a kiss on his cheek “You’re ridiculous”

He turned his head, catching your mouth instead, and kissed you— messy, smiling, like he had just won the lottery.

“I’m ridiculous for you”, he said, still breathless, “And very very naked under this blanket. Just so we’re clear”

You raised a brow, “So... round two?”

Han smirked, mischievously, “See? I knew you wouldn’t resist”

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep , @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @lexlikesbts , @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold , @teenagepeterpan , @hangonhyunjin

[berryz-writes]

Nightmare

azriel x reader

summary: The roles have switched. Now it's Azriel broken and tired needing your comfort after a nightmare

Note: Guyss ik ik the title is basic but i wanted to post it and i've been staring at this for like 10 minutes because i can't think of one 😭 anyways enjoy <33

I had woken in the early hours, the kind of wakefulness that comes suddenly and without reason. My throat burned for water and no matter how many times I flipped my pillow or shifted beneath the sheets, sleep simply wouldn’t come. So I had slipped out, barefoot and quiet, letting the gentle hum of magic guide me down the hall to the kitchen.

I drank, cool water soothing my throat, the glass trembling slightly in my hand from the residual grogginess but as I made my way back toward my room the air shifted.

It started as a feeling. The faintest drop in temperature. A weight pressing down on the space between my shoulders, not painful, but insistent.

And then I saw them.

A slow, thick tendril of shadows spilled out from beneath a door -Azriel's door - curling like smoke over the cold marble floor. They moved with purpose, toward me it seemed.

They seemed distressed, brushing up my ankles more shadows joining a trail of them going to a crack in his door. My pulse spiked, but not from fear. From knowing.

Azriel.

I crossed the hall, the cool stone soothing against my feet, and stopped in front of the heavy oak door. The shadows recoiled slightly, drawing back as if giving me space, encouraging me to enter. I raised my hand and knocked softly.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Silence.

Only the sound of strained breathing carried faintly through the wood- sharp, uneven, like someone struggling to breathe without waking themselves. My brows pulled together, heart sinking. The shadows didn’t move now simply hovered near the door, waiting. As if pleading.

“Az?” I said, voice low. I turned the handle. It gave way with a soft click.

Darkness swallowed the room. No candles, no fire. Only moonlight spilled across the far wall casting pale light in narrow ribbons through the windows. And there, tangled in the sheets of his bed was Azriel.

Even in sleep he looked tense- dangerously so.

His wings were half-unfurled, his body was twisted in the sheets, muscles rigid beneath sweat-dampened skin and his brow was drawn so tightly it looked painful. The smooth caramel of his skin was filled with strain, his breath coming in short almost gasping bursts. Shadows clung to his face like a second skin, obscuring parts of it revealing just enough to see the silver trail of tears carving their way down his cheeks.

Something shattered in me at the sight.

He never cried. Not when he bled, not when he was broken. But he was crying now and utterly silent about it.

I stepped closer, heart in my throat and gently placed my hand on his shoulder.

“Azriel” I whispered.

His eyes flew open.

And everything happened at once.

In a blur of movement the shadows exploded outward and I was slammed down into the mattress, the cold bite of steel at my throat before I could even blink.

The blade shimmered with blue siphon-light, the edge so sharp I felt it hum against my skin. I froze. My breath hitched. His body hovered above mine, tense as a coiled spring. His hand gripped the hilt of his dagger with terrifying precision every muscle locked in place.

His eyes- hazel ringed in gold- burned into mine. Wide. Ferocious. Haunted.

For one long second we just stared at each other, my heart slamming against my ribs. The moonlight struck his features fully now: the angular lines of his cheekbones, the scarred curve of his jaw, his lips parted slightly, drawing shallow, panicked breaths. His hair, dark and tousled fell across his forehead in damp waves.

“Azriel” I said softly, carefully. “It’s me.”

The blade didn’t move.

But his eyes did- searching, flickering with recognition.

Then…something cracked.

His grip loosened. The dagger slipped from his hand and landed with a dull thud on the mattress beside us. His breath hitched sharply and he scrambled back, horror etched into every line of his face.

“I-” His voice broke. “Fuck- I didn’t know- it was instinct- I thought...”

“It’s okay” I breathed, sitting up slowly.

He backed into the far side of the bed dragging both hands through his hair. His wings trembled slightly before folding in tight against his back, like they too were ashamed of the outburst.

“I thought it was real” he whispered, barely audible. “I was still there.”

My chest ached. “What did you dream about?”

He shook his head once, jaw clenched, eyes unfocused. “I can’t- ” His voice caught. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does” I said, gently, crawling across the bed toward him.

He looked at me finally. His eyes were rimmed with red, still wet with the aftermath of whatever storm had ripped through him in his sleep. A warrior broken open.

“You didn’t call for anyone” I murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “But your shadows did”

His eyes widened slightly. “They…brought you?”

I nodded.

He exhaled shakily, some part of him unravelling.

He didn't wipe the tears.

He didn’t even blink them away.

They trailed silently down the strong lines of his face. Azriel sat motionless on the edge of the bed, hunched slightly forward, eyes locked on the far wall with the expression of someone looking through it.

Not at it.

And gods, his face…

His mouth was slack, lips parted as he breathed- barely. His jaw, normally clenched so tightly it looked carved from stone, now hung loose with something I could only call defeat. His eyes, usually sharp enough to peel lies from truth were distant. Dead.

And still, the tears kept falling.

Not sobbing. Not gasping. Just…falling.

I couldn’t take it. Not one more second.

I moved closer, slowly, gently, like approaching a man on the edge of a crumbling ledge. Because he was. His broad back rose and fell unevenly, wings trembling with the effort of keeping still. His head bowed slightly forward now, shoulders caved in like the weight of it all had finally broken through that impossible armour.

“Az” I whispered, kneeling before him on the bed “Look at me.”

He didn’t.

But when I reached up, when I cupped the side of his face in my hand- he flinched.

Not from fear. From shame.

His eyes squeezed shut, his whole body tensing like he was bracing for a blow. My thumb brushed beneath his eye, catching a fresh tear.

That single act undid him.

A sound escaped him- guttural, broken, like something being torn from the deepest part of his chest. His body folded inward like the strength holding him up had simply vanished. And then he was collapsing into me.

Into my arms.

He clutched me with such raw desperation it stole the breath from my lungs. His arms wrapped tight around my waist, his face burying in the crook of my neck as his body shuddered. Trembled and fell apart.

And he cried.

Not the silent tears I’d found him with but deep, aching sobs. The kind that only came from wounds so old, so buried, that they bled in silence until the dam finally broke. His entire frame shook, wings pulled in tight, shadows flickering helplessly around him like they didn’t know how to comfort him anymore.

I held him tighter. Pressed my lips to his temple. Let him break without judgment, without fear.

And then through the broken gasps he started to speak.

“They locked me in that cell when I was eight.”

His voice was hollow. Shaky.

“I screamed for three days. My brothers told me if I made a sound, they’d break my wings. So I screamed into my hands until my voice disappeared.”

My breath hitched, but I said nothing. Just kept my fingers threaded through his hair grounding him.

He pulled in a sharp breath and exhaled like it hurt.

“I started…seeing things in the dark. Hearing voices that weren’t mine. The walls felt like they were closing in. Sometimes I still feel them now.”

I kept my hand at the back of his neck, thumb stroking softly. Up and down. A soothing rhythm.

His voice cracked further. “The worst part wasn’t the silence. It was the hope. Every time I heard a footstep above, I thought it might be my mother." His voice broke off again. “She never came”

I shut my eyes, just for a moment, as grief twisted in my chest.

“And now” he rasped, shaking his head ���even when I sleep- I go back there. That fucking cellar. I can’t stop it. I smell the mould on the walls. I taste blood in my mouth. And all I can think is that I deserved it. That somehow it made me stronger. Made me who I am today”

My hands stilled.

He laughed once- bitter and hollow. “What kind of person thanks the people who broke them?”

I tilted his face gently forcing him to meet my eyes. “You survived them” I whispered. “You're so strong....the man you are now is because of yourself.”

He stared at me, blinking slowly, as if the words didn’t compute.

“You didn’t deserve any of that, Azriel. Not then. Not now.”

He shook his head, but his grip on me only tightened, fingers digging into my waist.

“I’m not- ” His throat worked around the words. “I’m not good at this. Letting people see me like this.”

I smiled faintly, brushing away another tear from his cheek. “You don’t have to be good at it”

His breath caught. And for a moment, his eyes searched mine like he wasn’t sure how this was real.

“I don’t know how to let people love me” he whispered.

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his. “Then let me start.”

He closed his eyes. A fresh tear slid down, catching the moonlight. But this time, he let me wipe it away.

And he didn’t look at the wall again.

**the next morning**

The morning sunlight bathed the room completely.

It filtered in through the windows in long, golden threads, brushing over the stone walls and scattering across the bed in delicate beams. The warmth crept over my skin slowly, and I blinked awake, not quite remembering where I was- until I felt the weight.

Azriel.

His arm was draped over my waist, heavy and secure. His head rested against my shoulder, his dark hair spilling across my collarbone. One of his wings was curled around us like a blanket, shielding us from the world. His breathing was steady now. Peaceful.

I hadn’t seen him look this peaceful before. Not once.

He still held onto me in sleep, fingers curled loosely at my hip like his body hadn’t caught up to the fact that the danger was gone.

I shifted carefully, not to leave but to see him fully.

He looked younger in the daylight. Softer. His scars caught the sunlight and turned to gold against his skin. His tears from the night before had dried, but I could still see the faint streaks they’d left behind. And gods, it broke me all over again.

Because even now- even resting in safety- he looked like someone who expected to be alone.

I reached out and brushed a strand of hair from his face, fingertips ghosting along the curve of his temple. He didn’t stir but his brow twitched faintly. I wondered how long it had been since someone touched him without needing something in return.

Azriel didn’t ask for things. He endured.

He gave and gave and bled for the ones he loved and yet he never asked for anything in return. Not comfort. Not kindness. Certainly not this.

But last night…last night he’d let me see the pieces he buried so deep I wasn’t sure he remembered they were still there. He had broken in my arms and still clung to me like I was something worth holding onto.

He stirred slightly and I felt the moment his body tensed, his mind waking faster than the rest of him.

His hand tightened reflexively at my side before he blinked his eyes open.

Those beautiful hazel eyes found mine.

And for one heartbeat he looked like he might panic. Like he remembered everything and was about to retreat behind those stone walls again.

So I whispered, soft as a secret “You’re okay.”

Azriel didn’t move. His lips parted like he wanted to speak but no sound came. Instead his eyes searched mine- as if trying to figure out why I was still there. Why I hadn’t run.

Why I hadn’t seen the worst of him and walked away.

“I’m still here” I said, reading the question he didn’t ask. My hand came up again brushing his cheek with my knuckles. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His voice, when it came was hoarse.

“I thought maybe…I dreamed it.”

“You didn’t.” I smiled gently. “You opened up. And I listened”

His gaze flicked away, shame creeping in around the edges.

But I touched his jaw, guiding his face back to mine. “Don’t do that” I whispered. “Don’t hide from me now.”

He nodded once, slowly. Like he didn’t know how to believe me but wanted to try. Pressing a soft kiss to my head we laid there in silence his wing still wrapped around us.

Azriel shifted closer again, hesitating, then pressed his forehead lightly to mine.

“I don't know how to do it without you” he said softly.

“You don’t have to” I murmured. “I'll always be here. I promise”

And then he closed his eyes, content to lie here with me for all eternity.

note: UHHHH idk if i did this idea justice guys. As you can tell I've recently learnt how to properly use effect in sentences. (look at me using them commas and dashes EXCESSIVELY😋) anyway i totally am not writing this note because i'm CRINGING at my old fics

[urmomsfavelesbian]

posting for the niche audience that also feel faint watching this

[spiritual-turg]

She's literally SO gorgeous!!!!

OG by Joetastic!!!

[the-game-spirit]

sometimes a piece of media just! grabs you by the throat and says, "hey buddy! I'm gonna irrevocably alter your brain chemistry now! have fun with that!!"

and then you just ! gotta deal with that ! you guess !!

[justanartistiguess]

Kingerrrrrrrrr 😭😭😭