#but this one has been on my brain for a while now sooooo

[itspileofgoodthings]

tags continued from prev post.

[tardis--dreams]

I wish i could get buproprion without a prescription this shit is way too good to give up ㅠㅠ

[muqingslover]

[ Sooooo, happy easter my pookies! 🐰 So sorry about being dead for a bit I was hospitalized LMFAO!? I'll be going through requests soon! Dw guys, I see you and I hear you!!

In any case, what better way to kick back and relax than to write about the LADS boys jorking it ]

For personal enjoyment only I believe Sylus has a rut cycle. I mean, c'mon who hasn't thought about this at least once? Bc I sure have and I could make a whole post about thi— *gunshots*

Now, if I'm honest, he doesn't feel the NEED to masturbate like, ever. Nor does he really enjoy it.

His libido (and attraction in general) is directly connected to you so, if you're not actively riling him up or hanging around, he's just chilling.

Except during his cycles when his hand is forced (literally) and he'd rather blow his load than blow his own brains out.

Sylus is a growler! Though the low, almost rumbling sounds that escape his throat are not stemmed from desire, but from genuine frustration.

Why so angry, you may ask? That is because he knows it would be so much more enjoyable if you were there with him and it feels meaningless to do it by himself.

" He is rutting his sore, dripping cock against a pillow on the bed, bath robe sloppily slipping down his shoulders as he lets out another low, breathy groan. His hand grips the headboard of the bed tightly, nails digging into the wood hard enough to leave claw marks behind. His jaw is tight and sweat trickles down his forehead, each thrust into the soft cotton doing very little to soothe the hot, bubbling frustration in his gut.

'Help me, please.' He asks in his thoughts again. Will you hear his prayers this time? "

Xavier however doesn't need you physically present to get worked up.

Not particularly ashamed about it either. You're welcome to watch him anytime if you want.

He enjoys masturbating a normal amount but it's done veery sporadically. Usually he has to be in the right mood and have the right circumstances presented to him.

It happens when he's feeling lonely and needy for your presence next to him. You have been gone for longer than originally intended and now he is like a dying bunny starving for attention.

During sex Xavier is usually a quiet groaner or more of a "soft breaths" type of guy, but when he's alone? WHINY AS HELL.

" 'Mhn-mn...' He agreed softly, though his mind didn't register a single word that came out of your mouth besides the fact your voice sounded so close to his ear. He swears this hadn't been his intention when he came over to nap on your bed, but that raspy, tired edge to your tone began to make him feel tingly and before he knew he had his face buried into your fuzzy blanket while his free hand stroke his poor, messy cock. His other hand is busy covering his own lips to muffle his whiny moans, only letting go to answer when you ask if he had fallen asleep.

'Please keep talking..'

It's needless to say he enjoys the post-orgasm sleep.

I see him as the type that feels guilty about his sexual desires.

Zayne knows it's a chemical bodily reaction, but he just feels so....shameful. Especially since the reason for said "reaction" in his pants is you.

He does it quickly and quietly somewhere no one will see or interrupt him such as in the bathroom or his (locked) bedroom.

He's so quiet. I wish I was joking. Besides his heavy breathing there are no other real sounds from Zayne.

The only exception is right when he cums because then a strained, gasped moan escapes him without fail.

" 'Damnit...' He cursed under his breath. His glasses slip to the very tip of his nose as he pants, shirt trapped between his lips to muffle himself as an extra precaution and his hands work fast up and down his length. He can feel himself boarding so close to the edge and he knows just what he could do to achieve that bliss, but his moral compass holds him back from letting his imagination further any more into his fantasies. "

The post-nut clarity hits him like a damn truck exactly ten seconds later and he goes on a cleaning spree like there's no tomorrow.

This guy canonically went into heat. I rest my case.

Fine fine, since you insist let's push that aside and talk about just him feeling perky.

Rafayel is the type to masturbate after you do something that turned him on without meaning to.

Originally, the intention was to take a loooong, cool bath to calm himself down but in my twisted little mind being in the water makes him 10X hornier.

His voice is lower and quieter when he's excited. A moaner through and through, and occasionally will let out a curse or two.

" His knees fall further apart, spreading himself on the large bathtub as he comfortably leans against the edge. His eyebrows are furrowed in a way that makes him look almost angry, one of his fangs digging into his own lip as the sensitive scales on his skin react to the small ripples in the water around him, sending mind numbing tugs directly to his boner.

'Fuck...mn..' He murmured to himself, his thumb pressing against the pink, swollen tip and causing his head to tilt back in pleasure. "

A wise person (me) once said: Life is hard, but Caleb is always harder.

Pookies how many times have we been over this? He has his hand on his stiff ladies and gentlemen ! He's not a pilot for no reason ! ! And he's a FREAK about it ! ! !

His self-restraint is GOD given but his horny meter is also through the charts. Those pent up needs have to be released one way or another.

During teen years Caleb would use your clothes, his imagination and whatever else he could get his sticky little claws on to make his fantasies a bit more palpable.

Now that he's older though he barely has any time for himself and just kinda forgets about such things.

Or well, that was the case until you walked through the gates.

" The door to his office was locked, but if anyone was to pay a bit more attention they'd be able to hear to quiet grunts coming from the other side. The dog tag between his teeth did nothing to muffle the pathetic sounds leaving his throat, his sweaty forehead softly thudding against the metal when he leaned forward, one hand clenching the doorknob while the other moved quickly on his aching cock. 'Please, please please—' He begged between raspy whimpers, making a mess on the floor in front of him less than a minute after.

[cheftsunoda]

beauty and brains

(part four)

smau + real life

warning : very very wordy

“lando takes a trip to visit jules while she is in the midst of a 24 hour shift and the twins celebrate a birthday..with a few surprises."

(I received several requests on a few little plot lines to add so I tried my best to incorporate all)

Charles Leclerc x !Doctor Sister Reader x Platonic F1 Grid

Leclerc Reader x Lando Norris

part one here:)

part two here:)

part three here:)

part five here:)

 tag list : @klauslovemepls , @omgsuperstarg , @msliz , @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 , @goldenstrawberryx, @hannahmotors10 , @alireads27 , @1800-love-me, @htpssgavi , @cmgmikealson, @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog, @glow-ish, @just-tingz-virgo, @majapapaya4, @lina505

—

dr_jules_leclerc added to her story!

{caption 1 : only 12 hours into this 24 and im already falling asleep - SEND HELP} {caption 2 : help has arrived—thank you lando}

seen by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 & 4,368,468 others.

charles_leclerc : I thought you said no visitors allowed at work…

charles_leclerc : arthur is upset

dr_jules_leclerc : oh I wasn’t specific- im allowed visitors I just put you both on a no visitation list

charles_leclerc : that is so rude - what did we ever do?

dr_jules_leclerc : where the both of you are- chaos ensues + I do not need distractions

charles_leclerc : ignoring that first part- but is lando not a distraction?

dr_jules_leclerc : he is a permitted distraction because he brought gifts

charles_leclerc : if I buy you that birkin you were talking about - will you take me off the list?

dr_jules_leclerc : ….yes…bubblegum pink with palladium hardware..thank you charlie

charles_leclerc : perfect😁 anything for you, princesse.

oscarpiastri : lily and I will take some of the credit for the flowers- we helped him pick them out.

dr_jules_leclerc : you know me so well, loves. thank uuuu

arthur_leclerc : sooooo since charles is off the ban list does that mean i am too?

dr_jules_leclerc : no because you will be here every day and I will never get any work done.

arthur_leclerc : sorry for loving my sister jeez 🙄

arthur_leclerc : …what if I bring lunch everytime?

dr_jules_leclerc : …okay..fine

—

lando added a post to his story!

{caption : found this really pretty lady at the hospital and now she is showing me really cool things - BEST DAY EVER}

seen by charles_leclerc, ciscanorris, flonorris1 & 2,368,354 others.

charles_leclerc : she is the best

lando : she really is, i love watching her do something she is so passionate about.

ciscanorris : I am glad you are finally learning something because I know you didn’t pay any attention in school. Tell my daughter I said hello and love her bunches!

lando : will do- no love for me? 🤨

ciscanorris : Don’t be dramatic, Lando. I birthed you- you automatically have all my love instilled into you.

flonorris1 : never thought you’d end up with anyone as cool as her

lando : me neither

—

I was on hour eighteen— out of 24.

My scrubs were wrinkled, my hair had been up and redone twice already, and my eyes burned from staring at the same three charts for too long. I had barely eaten, my feet ached, and there was a little knot forming at the base of my neck from the stress of balancing five pediatric oncology cases—each one heavy, each one pulling at a different part of my heart.

I was halfway through a progress note when someone knocked softly on the doorframe of my office.I looked up from my computer screen and froze.

Lando.

He was wearing a hoodie, joggers, and sneakers that were entirely too clean for hospital floors. He had what looked like 3 bouquets and some balloons, and a familiar little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The one he always saved just for me.

“Hi, doctor,” he said quietly.

My whole body exhaled.

“Lan—what are you doing here?”

He held up the flowers like they explained everything. “Bringing you something to brighten up your day. I can’t imagine a 24 hour shift with several different cases is very fun for you, love.”

I blinked, then set the paperwork down and stood, crossing the room in just a few steps before wrapping my arms around his waist. He hugged me back instantly—tight, warm, steady. I let yourself melt into it, just for a second.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here,” I murmured against his chest.

“I wanted to,” he said. “You take care of everyone else. I just wanted to take care of you for five minutes.”

He pulled back gently and handed me a small bag. Inside was my favorite wrap, a bottle of coconut water, and a pack of chocolate-covered almonds I always kept in my locker but had run out of days ago.

“Eat up, Doc. I know you haven’t eaten all day.”

My chest squeezed.

“You remembered all of this?”

“I pay attention,” he said with a soft shrug. “Especially to you.”

I sat with him in the office for ten stolen minutes, half-laughing through my exhaustion as he made dramatic faces while trying to sip from the tiny espresso cups meant for the staff.

At one point, my head dropped onto his shoulder and he just let it stay there, fingers tracing light circles on my back.

“I don’t know how you do this every day,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes. “Some days I don’t either.”

“But you still do.”

He looked at me then—really looked. No makeup, hair undone, emotionally and physically worn down to my edges—and he thought I had never looked more beautiful.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

I huffed a tired smile. “Tell me that again after I’ve slept.”

“I’ll tell you every day if you let me.”

I turned to him, and for a second, the hospital faded. There was just Lando. Kind, thoughtful, mine.

And in that moment, you didn’t need the flowers or a grand speech. You just needed this-

Someone who showed up when it mattered.

Someone who saw the hard parts and still stayed.

Someone who brought food to a hospital at 9 p.m. because he loved me.

A light knock on the door interrupted our moment of peace. I nodded towards my assistant who opened the door gently.

“Sorry to bother you, Dr. Leclerc - both of your brothers are downstairs and are requesting to come up and see you.” She said and I smirked to myself with a small sigh.

“Let them up- why not?” I said with a small chuckle and set my head back on Lando’s shoulder.

Within minutes, there was a knock on my office door and Arthur and Charles came barreling in. A giant orange bag in Charles’ hand that read ��Hermes’. Charles held it out with a big smile on his face.

“For you, princesse.” He said eyeing lando and taking a seat across the desk from me.

“Charles- it is 9 at night how the fuck did you even get this?” I said with a huge smile on my face as I unboxed the purse.

“I have my ways and my connections and as I said- anything for you.” He said, watching me open the box with joy.

“You just had to show up my gift, huh?” Lando said with a smirk.

“What can I say?” Charles shrugged.

“No, this is only here because it is the only way Jules would take Charles and I off the ban list.” Arthur said and I chucked to myself.

“Either way- it is much appreciated, my loves. You have made this shift considerably less miserable for me. I love it, thank you.” I said and stood pulling Arthur into a hug- he left a kiss on my cheek. I then pulled Charles in and his head rested on top of mine for a small moment.

“You are our superhero, Jules. All of ours.” Arthur said and charles and lando both nodded.

“I love you all, so much.”

—

Finally- hour 24 of 24 had ended.

The fluorescent lights still buzzed. My sneakers still squeaked faintly against the tile. But the chaos had dulled into that familiar post-shift stillness—an exhaustion so deep it lived in my bones.

I stepped out of the elevator, rubbing my temples, and there he was.

Lando. Sitting in the waiting area, hoodie hood up, legs stretched out, phone forgotten in his lap. Asleep, but barely. The second my steps slowed near him, his eyes opened like he knew.

“You stayed,” I whispered, throat tight.

He blinked once, then smiled, soft and sleepy. “Of course I did.”

I stared at him for a second—this boy with messy curls and too much heart, who waited hours in a hospital chair just to take me home. Something cracked a little in my chest.

“I told you to go,” I said, not unkindly—just overwhelmed.

“And you never listen to me when I tell you to rest,” he said, standing slowly. “So I figured we’re even.”

That made me laugh, tired and watery.

Without a word, he reached for my bag, threw it over his shoulder, then carefully tugged my hand into his. His thumb brushed gently across my knuckles as he led me outside, into the cool night air.

I was silent until I reached the car, the kind of silence that buzzed with everything I couldn’t say yet.

But when I sat down—door shut, the outside world finally muffled—I turned to him. And the words just came.

“You know how many people see this version of me?” I asked softly.

He glanced over. “This version?”

“The tired one. The one who’s had to deliver shit news and hold her emotions together in front of a ten-year-old who’s too brave for her own good. The one who didn’t get to cry during the bad scan. The one who forgot to eat and barely held it together when a patient’s parents broke down in the hallway.” I exhaled. “This version.”

Lando didn’t rush to respond. He just looked at me, eyes soft, voice even softer.

“I want to see every version.”

My throat caught.

“Not just the one in the hoodie I love. Not just the one who dances in the kitchen or teases me about being dramatic on race weekends. I want all of them. Even the hard ones. Especially those.”

I blinked fast, swallowing the knot rising in my throat.

“Tonight was hard,”I said, voice cracking.

“I know,” he whispered, already reaching across the console, thumb brushing under my eye where a tear slipped out. “But you’re not alone anymore, okay?”

I nodded once. Then again.

He leaned over, kissed my forehead, and whispered into my skin: “Let me be your soft place to land.”

And I knew—he already was.

—

time skip - 8 months - leclerc twins birthday

—

dr_jules_leclerc made a post!

liked by leclerc_pascale, alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc & 4,368,243 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : Happy birthday to my twin—my first friend, my forever teammate, and the one who just gets me without even saying a word. From day one, we’ve shared everything—our childhood, our dreams, our weird inside jokes, and all the highs and lows in between. There’s something so rare and special about growing up with someone who’s been right there beside you every step of the way. I’m so proud of the person you are and so lucky to go through life with you as my other half. Here’s to more adventures, more laughs, and more memories we’ll never forget. Love you always and endlessly.

—

charles_leclerc : mon chèri —you already made me cry this morning on the phone and then you post this. i am so proud of you and the amazing person you have become. you continue to make me so proud every single day. you are a superhero to me and to so many others. i am so blessed to have you. love you forever

liked by author

alexandrasaintmleux : my two favorite humans on the planet—happy birthday. i love you both so so much and I cannot wait to celebrate you both. 🤍

liked by author and charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc : Merci mon ange. Je t'aime jusqu'à la lune et retour.

dr_jules_leclerc : oh my alex—i love you forever and ever. thank you for being the sister i never knew i needed 🤍

arthur_leclerc : I’d be so lost without you guys. I look up to you both and you have been the biggest inspiration to me. I love you both. Happy Birthday!

liked by author and charles_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : love you Thur— thank you for the flowers this morning 🥹

leclerc_pascale : 💋❤️

liked by author and charles_leclerc

carlossainz55 : Happiest of Birthdays to my favorite twins!

liked by author and charles_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : aren’t we like the only twins you know?

carlossainz55 : well technically yes but I could meet quadruplets and you guys would still be the favorite

liked by author and charles_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : thank you chili ❤️

oscarpiastri : Happy birthday to my father and my aunt! Love you guys!

liked by author and charles_leclerc

—

charles_leclerc made a post

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc & 3,265,368 others.

charles_leclerc : Happy birthday to the one who’s been with me since the very beginning—my twin, my lifelong partner in crime, my heart in another body. There’s no bond like ours, and no one I could ever be more grateful for. You’ve been my biggest cheerleader, my secret-keeper, my therapist, and my favorite person to just sit in silence with. We’ve seen each other through every version of ourselves—messy, growing, healing, thriving—and we’ve never let go. I honestly don’t know who I’d be without you, and I don’t ever want to find out. You make life fuller, funnier, and so much more meaningful. Here’s to everything we’ve been through and everything that’s still ahead. I love you more than words can really say.

—

dr_jules_leclerc : oh my charlie— thank you for always supporting me and keeping me strong throughout this life. you are one of the best things god has given me in this life and i wouldn’t trade you for anything. thank you for all those nights where you’d stay up for endless hours helping me study. thank you for pushing me and always believing in me. thank you for being you. love you forever

liked by author

arthur_leclerc : can you guys stop making me cry?

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

maxverstappen1 : Happy Birthday Leclerc’s!

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

alexandrasaintmleux : my angels

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

leclerc_pascale : mes bèbès❤️

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

lewishamilton : Happy Birthday to one of my best friends and to my teammate! ❤️

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

pierregasly : happy birthday to you both! cant wait to celebrate 🥂

Liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

—

lando just made a post!

liked by charles_leclerc, flonorris1, maxfewtrell & 4,368,389 others.

lando : Happy birthday to the love of my life, my safe place, my soulmate. Every day with you feels like a blessing, but today I get to celebrate you—your heart, your strength, your laughter, and everything that makes you so incredibly special. You’ve shown me a kind of love I never knew existed, and being yours feels like coming home. Thank you for being my partner in this wild, beautiful life. I’m so proud of who you are and so lucky to love you. Here’s to all the memories we’ve made and all the magic still to come. I love you, always. 🧡

(Happy Birthday to Charles as well- thank you for trusting me with your beautiful sister.)

—

dr_jules_leclerc : currently in tears— lan, i love you so much. you have forever changed my perception of love. you have showed me what true love is like and i will always remember you for that. you truly are the love of my life - thank you.

liked by author

maxfewtrell: Happy Birthday Jules and Charles! Hope it’s a good one.

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

charles_leclerc : Thank you, Lando. It took a lot for you to earn my trust but you did and that shows a lot. Take care of her, please.

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

flonorris1 : Happy Birthday Jules! We miss you!!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

ciscanorris : Happy Birthday beautiful girl! Thank you for always being so good to my son and my family.

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

pietra.pilao : Happy happy birthday beautiful lady!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

danielricciardo : aw how cute - my lando is so in love. happy birthday Jules and Charles!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

—

arthur_leclerc added posts to his story.

{caption 1 : happiest of birthdays to the best sister i could have ever been given- you inspire me everyday. love you sm} {caption 2 : happy birthday cha- thank you for everything. you have done so much for me and have always been there to help me. love you}

seen by olliebearman, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux & 337,378 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : artttt- im crying. you are the best baby brother i could have ever asked for. love you forever

message liked by arthur_leclerc

charles_leclerc : thank you Thur— love you:)

message liked by arthur_leclerc

alexandrasaintmleux : this is so cute oml

message liked by arthur_leclerc

olliebearman : tell them i said happy birthday!

arthur_leclerc : Ollie- man- you’re invited to their party tonight.

olliebearman : wait really??

arthur_leclerc : yes, Jules asked me if you’d come.

olliebearman : omg I’ll be there

message liked by arthur_leclerc

—

flashback moment between charles and jules

Age six.

Well—six and a half, as I proudly told anyone who asked. Charles would chime in with a matching “six and a half” in perfect unison, as if the two of us had rehearsed it.

We were always like that—mirrored pieces of the same wild, sunlit childhood. We shared everything: toys, birthdays, scraped knees, the top bunk, and Mamans laugh when we ran barefoot through the apartment, leaving chalk footprints behind.

It was a Saturday in Monaco. The kind of summer day where the air shimmered and the streets smelled like sea breeze and jasmine. The kind of day where the grownups left their windows open and the children left their shoes behind.

Charles and I were outside in the courtyard with a box of sidewalk chalk and no real plan—just endless space and imagination that didn’t need to make sense.

He was drawing something he insisted was a Formula 1 car.

“It’s got wings,” he explained, adding two lopsided triangles to the side. “So it’s faster.”

“It looks like a turtle,” I said, squinting.

Charles stuck his tongue out at me. “You don’t get it.”

I ignored him and moved on to the edge of the driveway, where I crouched and began writing my name, pressing the chalk down so hard it cracked in my hand.

J-U-L-E-Z. Big and uneven. In green and pink and a little streak of orange.

He looked over and tilted his head. “That’s not how you spell it.”

I turned my head sharply. “Yes it is.”

“Maman spells it with an ‘S.’”

I glared at him. “I like it with a ‘Z.’”

Charles raised his eyebrows in mock shock, then grabbed a piece of purple chalk and dramatically drew a huge, crooked heart around the name. “Fine. ‘Z’ it is.”

I didn’t say anything. Just grinned.

That afternoon turned golden, the way all the best ones did. We both chased each other through sprinklers, made a “soup” out of dandelions and tap water in mamans flower pots, and ended up collapsed on the front step, legs muddy, knees bruised, giggling breathlessly.

Someone handed us popsicles—our old neighbor, probably. Orange for both of us. It stained our fingers and dripped down our wrists as I swung my legs and leaned my shoulder into his without realizing it.

“Maman says you’re gonna be a doctor,” Charles said suddenly, eyes forward, voice calm.

I didn’t answer right away.

“She says you already know how to take care of people. That you ask questions like one.”

I looked at him, blinking. “She says you’re going to crash a car.”

Charles choked on his popsicle.

“I am not! I’m gonna drive one.”

“Yeah, into a wall,” i teased.

He elbowed me gently. “No walls. Just first place.”

We both sat quiet for a moment, chewing on the end of our popsicles, watching the sun sink behind the apartments.

Then I spoke.

“If you crash, I’m not fixing you.”

He smiled. “Liar.”

I nudged him. “You’re the liar.”

But even then—even at six—I knew I would fix him if he ever needed it. Because that’s what I did. And because he was mine, just like I was his.

And long after the chalk washed away and the popsicles melted and time turned everything else into something new—

That part stayed.

—

present day

I giggled to myself and sent charles a voice memo reliving that memory. He really was my other half and always would be. I was at his first race, I’ll be at his last. He has been there for me every step in my career. I’d always fix him if he ever needed it. It absolutely warmed my heart that him and Lando have finally started bonding—Charles still remaining protective as always but has let up on Lando. Time to get ready to Celebrate us.

—

The party was exactly what it should’ve been—equal parts elegant and chaotic.

Somehow, between back-to-back races and media days, We had managed to squeeze in one night. Just one night to celebrate another year around the sun, together. It had started as a quiet dinner idea, but leave it to the F1 grid to turn anything into an event.

The rooftop venue in Monaco overlooked the sea, bathed in gold from the setting sun. Fairy lights strung across low beams, music pulsing just enough to set the tone but not drown out the sound of laughter—so much laughter.

“Thirty minutes in and Russell already spilled red wine on the seating chart,” I whispered to Lando, who stood beside me with a hand resting comfortably at the small of my back.

“I think he did it on purpose,” Lando replied, lips twitching into a grin. “He’s avoiding being seated next to Max.”

I laughed, shaking my head—and that’s when I spotted him. Charles, across the patio, in conversation with Pierre and Esteban, trying to look serious while holding a cupcake in each hand.

“Classic Charles.” I murmured to myself.

Lando leaned in, dropping his voice. “Happy birthday, Doctor Leclerc.”

Before i could reply, someone called out: “Birthday toast!”

The group gathered slowly, everyone herding toward the long table that had somehow become littered with champagne corks, and a pair of sunglasses no one claimed. Charles tapped a glass with a fork, looking far too proud of himself.

“Okay,” he started, “as the older twin—”

“You’re older by four minutes,” I cut in.

“—wiser twin,” he amended with a smirk, “I’d like to say thank you all for being here. Some of you flew in on a rest day, which means a lot. Especially considering there is no actual prize for tolerating two Leclercs at once.”

Groans. Laughter. Someone (probably George) shouted, “We deserve medals!”

“But seriously,” Charles said, tone softening as he glanced at me. “We’ve shared every birthday together. Some loud. Some quiet. But this one feels different.”

I raised a brow. “How so?”

“Because you brought your half of the grid,” he teased, gesturing toward Lando, who grinned and mock-bowed. “And somehow, even with all the helmets and rivalry… tonight just feels like family.”

The silence that followed was warm. Full.

And then, just like that, Max lifted his glass. “To Jules and Charles. May their sibling battles always stay off track.”

“And may Lando survive dating a Leclerc!” someone (definitely Alex) added.

The toast ended in cheers, clinks, and one overly enthusiastic pop of champagne that nearly hit Oscar in the face.

Later, after cake (two, of course—because they still couldn’t agree on flavor) and dancing, I found myself standing alone by the railing, watching the moonlight ripple over the water.

Lando appeared quietly beside me, slipping his hand into mine.

“You good?” he asked, eyes on me, not the view.

I looked at him, heart a little full, cheeks still warm from laughing. “Yeah,” i said softly. “I’m really good.”

Because here she was—celebrating another trip around the sun with the person who knew her best, and the person who loved her deepest. Surrounded by people who’d crash helmets for her in one second and pull her into group hugs the next.

—

Charles and I sat on the balcony in silence - just enjoying the view and each other’s presence.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

We both just sipped, staring out at the glint of the sea under moonlight, the air quiet enough to hear the city hum.

Then Charles said, barely above a whisper, “Do you ever miss it? Being just us?”

I didn’t answer right away. Because I knew what he meant. Not out of jealousy, not from lack of love—but from the ache of growing up. Of your worlds expanding in opposite directions.

Sometimes it was just easier when it was the two of us, sharing bunk beds and stolen cookies, futures still unwritten and intertwined.

I leaned your shoulder into his, like I had a thousand times before.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I miss it. But I wouldn’t trade this version either.”

He glanced over. “Even with Lando?”

I gave him a look. “Especially with Lando.”

Charles sighed dramatically, resting his head back. “Still weird.”

“You’re going to be weird about it forever, aren’t you?”

“Probably.” Then, after a pause, more serious: “But he makes you better. You smile more when he’s around.”

I blinked, taken off guard by the softness in his voice.

“You always took care of everyone else,” he added, “but now… someone’s taking care of you.”

And there it was—that twin intuition, cracking my chest open in the way only Charles could. The way he always saw me, even when you didn’t want to be seen.

I reached over, laced my pinky with his like i used to when i was little and scared of the dark.

“I’ve always had someone taking care of me,” I whispered.

He looked down at my pinky looped through his. Then nodded once, the corner of his mouth pulling upward.

“Happy birthday, Jules.”

“Happy birthday, Charlie.”

—

Charles had left to join Alexandra with something.

The rooftop was empty now.

The last of the laughter had faded. The champagne flutes were cleared. The music had stopped humming through the speakers. And somewhere below, Monaco slept beneath a blanket of soft moonlight and glittering sea.

I was still barefoot, my heels abandoned somewhere near the door. Lando was behind me—quiet, lingering—watching the way my hair moved in the night breeze, the curve of my back as you leaned against the railing, still sipping the last of my birthday espresso like it was wine.

Neither of us had said much in the last few minutes. The silence didn’t need to be filled. It felt like something sacred now, this stillness. A pause between chapters.

Lando stepped forward.

I turned, and mybeyes softened the second they met his.

“You okay?” I asked.

He nodded once. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“That’s dangerous,” I teased lightly, nudging his shoulder with mine.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not out of sadness. Just something deeper. Quieter. His fingers found mine, weaving through them carefully, like he was memorizing the shape of my hand all over again.

“I’ve been carrying something with me all night,” he said.

I blinked. “Yeah?”

He nodded, his free hand reaching into the pocket of his jacket—pulling out a small, black velvet box.

My breath got caught in my chest.

“Lan—”

“I didn’t want to do it during the party,” he said quickly, voice low and steady. “Not in front of everyone. Not with Max yelling and your brother two seconds away from tackling me.”

I laughed, but it came out shaky. My heart was racing.

“I wanted it to be just you. Just me.” He looked around the empty rooftop. “Just this.”

Slowly, he sank to one knee, the box still unopened in his hand.

And suddenly it was like everything stilled. The sea. The stars. My pulse.

“I’ve loved you from the moment I realized how fiercely you love everyone else,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen the way you carry the weight of the world and still find room for joy. The way you laugh like it’s the first time every time. The way you hold onto people so tightly that they never want to let go.”

He paused, smiling slightly. “You made space for me. And I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to carry anything alone again.”

He opened the box.

The ring inside was simple. Elegant. Timeless.

The way he thought of me.

“Jules Leclerc,” he breathed. “Will you marry me?”

I didn’t answer at first.

Because I was crying. Silently. Full-bodied, chest-aching tears—the kind that came from being seen so completely, so intimately, i didn’t know how to hold it all at once.

And then, through the blur of tears and the shaking breath, i whispered:

“Yes.”

He was up before I finished the word, arms around me, his lips pressed to my forehead, my cheeks, my smile. We were both laughing and crying and saying I love you like it was the only language we knew.

Somewhere down below, the waves kissed the shore.

But up here?

Up here, time stopped.

And forever began.

—

I didn’t sleep that night.

Neither of us did.

Between the adrenaline, the endless kisses, the whispered “fiancé” muttered every five minutes just to hear how it sounded… we were floating.

Morning came fast.

The Monaco sun filtered through the curtains of the apartment, and I sat cross-legged on the couch, hair messy, oversized hoodie swallowed over my knees—his hoodie, of course. Lando paced with two mugs of coffee in hand and nerves in his throat.

“You sure we’re ready for this?” he asked, even as he handed me a cup.

I raised a brow. “What, telling my family? The people who’ve loved me through every single meltdown, breakup, and panic attack I’ve ever had?”

“Yes.”

I smiled. “Then absolutely not.”

He groaned, dropping next to me on the couch. I reached over and took his hand.

“They love you, Lan,” I whispered, pressing my thumb into the curve of his palm. “And they love us.”

“You sure Charles won’t try to tackle me?”

“Eighty percent.”

He gave me a side-eye. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

A Few Hours Later

It was casual on the surface: a quiet brunch with Charles, Arthur, and maman. We done this dozens of times. Croissants, espresso, sunlight. Maman flitting between the kitchen and the table, humming to herself.

But Charles had been eyeing us both for a solid ten minutes now.

“What’s wrong with you two?” he asked finally, fork paused mid-air. “You’re smiling like… serial killers.”

Arthur leaned back and smirked. “They’re definitely hiding something.”

I locked eyes with Lando. He gave a slight nod. It was time.

I stood up slowly, heart pounding, holding up my left hand.

The room froze.

“Jules,” maman whispered, one hand already rising to her mouth.

“We’re engaged,”I said softly, my voice cracking from the weight of it. “Lando proposed last night. After the party.”

Charles blinked. Stared. Blinked again.

And then—“You proposed after my toast?!”

Lando laughed nervously. “I swear I didn’t plan it like that.”

Maman was already pulling me into her arms, wiping tears from her cheeks as she whispered a prayer in French and kissed the side of my face. Arthur stood, grinning wide as he pulled Lando into a too-tight hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

Charles, meanwhile, just sat there.

Silent.

Until he looked up at Lando with a sigh and stood.

Everyone held their breath.

Then—he walked around the table, stopped in front of Lando, and pulled him into a hug so tight, so genuine, it made my eyes sting.

“Just don’t break her heart,” he whispered into Lando’s ear.

“I won’t,” Lando promised.

“I’ll know if you do.”

“I know you will.”

Charles pulled back and nodded once before glancing over at you. “I hate that you’re gonna be a Norris,” he muttered.

I beamed. “I’m not. I’m keeping Leclerc.”

He fist-pumped. “Yes!”

“I have to go call Alex and Charlotte to start wedding planning!” I said grabbing Maman and entering the house, leaving the boys on the balcony.

Later That Evening

The nerves came rushing back as the video call loaded.

Lando and I sat curled up on the couch, my legs tucked under his, laptop perched on the coffee table between two mugs of tea we hadn’t touched. First on screen was Oli, then Flo, their eyes immediately narrowing like they sensed something was up.

“Okay,” Flo said, squinting. “You’re both sitting suspiciously close. Did you get a puppy?”

“No way, it’s a turtle,” Oli added. “You guys totally look like turtle people.”

And then, Cisca’s face appeared on screen—her familiar smile already easing the nerves in your chest. She looked cozy at home, a glass of wine in hand, gaze flicking between her son and the woman curled into his side.

“What’s going on?” she asked, the first to speak gently. “You’ve got that look, Lando. The same one you had when you drove a kart for the first time.”

Lando cleared his throat, fingers squeezing mine a little tighter. I nodded towards him.

He took a breath.

“We got engaged.”

There was a beat of silence—and then chaos.

Flo screamed, instantly flailing off-screen in excitement. Oli shouted “NO WAY” like it was breaking news. And Cisca—her hand flew to her mouth, tears already springing to her eyes before the rest of the sentence was even out. Adam just had a permanent smile plastered on his face.

“You—really?” she whispered, blinking.

Lando smiled at her, all soft and proud. “Yeah, Mum. I asked her last night. After the party. She said yes.”

My hand lifted automatically, showing them the ring, and Flo reappeared on-screen with a dramatic gasp that nearly made me almost drop the laptop.

“Wait—oh my god. Jules. That’s so pretty.”

“I love it,” Cisca said softly, still a little breathless, her eyes fixed on me now. “I always hoped… but I never wanted to say too much.”

“You made a damn good choice, son.” Adam said causing lando to smile.

“I know.”

I smiled and swallowed the lump in my throat.

“I love him,” I said quietly. “And I love this family already.”

That’s when Cisca’s voice wavered, eyes glassy.

“And now you’re part of it. Officially.” She blinked rapidly, then laughed, wiping her cheek. “God, look at me. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

“Too late,” Oli teased.

Flo cut in, practically vibrating. “We need to plan a trip! I need to give you an in-person scream hug!”

Lando leaned closer to the screen. “We’ll come soon. Promise.”

The call stretched into an hour—stories, questions, wedding hints. And through it all, Cisca kept looking at me the way a mother does when she knows her son is going to be okay. When she sees the kind of love that doesn’t just burn, but lasts.

And just before the call ended, she reached toward the camera, like she could touch me through the screen.

“I hope you know,” she said, voice thick with love, “I already thought of you as part of our family. But now, I get to call you my daughter.”

My eyes stung again.

“I’d be honored,” I whispered.

Lando reached over, brushing a thumb over my cheek as the screen faded to black.

“She loves you, you know.”

I turned my head, smiling. “I know.”

“And so do I.”

__

paddock reactions! to the engagement

Race weekends were always a blur—flights, media, strategy meetings, adrenaline and tire smoke. But this weekend? This weekend felt different.

Because now there was a ring on my finger.

And the world didn’t know. Yet.

It started quietly.

Whispers. Curious glances. Subtle gestures between Lando and I —his hand always brushing over mine, his eyes softer than usual when he looked at me. The drivers noticed first, of course. They always did.

It was Oscar who caught it.

I was in the McLaren motorhome, mid-conversation with Lando about telemetry or tire wear—or pretending to be—when Oscar passed by, paused, backtracked, and squinted.

“Is that…?” He pointed to my hand, blinking. “Are you engaged?!”

I froze.

Lando burst out laughing.

And that was all it took.

An Hour Later

I wasn’t sure who told who next—Oscar or Carlos—but suddenly it felt like the entire paddock knew.

George cornered Lando during the cooldown after FP1. “Mate, you didn’t even text the group chat?!”

Alex demanded to know how many people knew before him. (The answer was two—my brother and my mother—and he still sulked.)

Lewis gave me a quiet hug in the Ferrari hospitality unit later, whispering, “You two are beautiful together. Protect that.”

Pierre almost tackled me in the hallway. “You said nothing in the driver’s lounge? Rude.”

He had always been like another brother to me.

Esteban handed me a croissant like it was a wedding gift.

And Sebastian Vettel, who just happened to be visiting that weekend, pulled Lando into a firm, fatherly hug and said, “She’s brilliant. You’re lucky.”

But it was the moment with Max that made me laugh the hardest.

He walked up with his arms crossed, glanced at my hand, and raised a brow. “Guess I lost the bet with Charles.”

I blinked. “You bet on us?”

“I said he’d wait until the off-season. Clearly, I underestimated his emotional impulsiveness.”

I turned to Lando. “That sounds like an insult.”

“It was,” Max said with a shrug, then smirked. “Congrats though. Genuinely.”

And then, of course, came the group photo.

The McLaren media team, never ones to miss a moment, pulled us both aside at golden hour behind the garage. Someone handed me a bouquet of orange pit boards tied with ribbon, and before i knew it, we were both posing, grinning like idiots, Lando’s arm around my waist and my hand—ring and all—pressed against his chest.

The caption was simple when they posted it:

“She said yes.”

I found Charles leaning against a pit wall, watching the sun sink low over the track.

“You okay?”I asked, sliding next to him.

He didn’t look at me right away. “You’re not my little sister anymore, you know.”

I nudged his shoulder. “Was I ever? It’s only four minutes, Cha.”

“Still feels like it sometimes,” he murmured. Then, after a pause, he added, “He makes you happy.”

I nodded. “He does.”

“Then I’m happy too.”

He finally turned to look at me—his eyes a little glassy, though he’d never admit it.

“But if he messes it up…”

“I know,” I grinned. “You’ll ruin his life.”

Charles smirked. “Exactly.”

—

dr_jules_leclerc is with lando

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri & 12,378,368 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : can’t wait to spend forever with you

—

comments on this post have been limited.

—

alexandrasaintmleux added a post to her story.

{caption ; my sister is getting married!! time to start wedding planning}

seen by charles_leclerc, lando, arthur_Leclerc and 338,378 others.

lando : she is an angel- so perfect

alexandrasaintmleux : truly!

—

part four done! let me know what you guys think — requests always open. thank you for all the support 💐💐

[really-fanny-longbottom]

okay sooooo

i had this little thought right

okay so maybe like reader has been a part of the inner circle for a looooong time like since the batboys were kids and they've all been friends forever, naturaly azriel has been in love with her since then, and a few years ago he realised they were mates (she doesn't know)

this one time she walks into the townhouse in just a bra and trousers, casually just walking in drinking coffee while the rhys and cass are just flabbergasted (cass being cass is eyeing the goods real hard because shes always been hot and he knows it) rhys is smirking and all (hes no less honestly)

then az walks in and hes just like what the fuck, she tries to explain smth happened to her shirt on the way and hes just grumbling and takes off his own shirt and is like put this own (cass is naturally making comments that make az's blood boil)

then you can choose where that goes from there

lmfaoooo im so sorry i couldn't get this idea out of my head

its okayyyy if you can't write it!!!

hi! sorry it took me so long to post but i've been really busy with university and only now have i had some free time.

anyway, here it is! thank you so much for this request, i loved writing it!

i hope you like it! 🫶🏻

my hero

azriel x reader | a small but very happy incident. words: 2.2k

masterlist

tick 

tack

tick 

tack 

"ugh," a heavy groan escaped your lips at the sound of the clock. you seated slightly, your head pounding without mercy. 

as you looked at the window, your eyes fought against the early sunlight, before adjusting and finally allowing you to fully open them.

it took you a few seconds to remember your surroundings, and to be honest, to remember anything. 

the confusion didn't last long when all the memories from last night hit you all at once. 

you had gone out for the night with morrigan. you went to rita's for a girls night.

a night with a lot of drinking and dancing and singing and drinking again — mysterious headache solved.

you looked down on you, seeing the shiny short black dress you had chosen for last night specifically. 

you passed your hands through your messy hair and took a glance at your bedroom, absorbing the chaos that a very drunk you had caused.

how could just a person cause such a mess?

tick 

tack

tick

tack

"ugh!" a loud annoyed groan left your lips again

at the sound of the clock that kept attacking your brain. 

before you could think twice, you turned and reached out to punch the clock, causing it to fall to the ground.

you lowered yourself on the bed sheets with an arm over your head.

this was going to be a very long day.

and that's when it you.

your eyes and two seconds later, your legs were fighting against the bed sheets. 

after losing that battle, you ended up falling to the ground with a loud noise. 

a small 'huff' came out of your mouth before getting up and running to the clock as quickly as possible to check the time. 

10:07 am

"oh, shit."

you were late for your internship at the clinic.

"oh, shit."

you quickly begin to look for clean clothes at the same time you try to get rid of your dress. 

you manage to find something that looked relatively clean and put it on, your heart racing as you tried to get your hair to not look like a complete mess.

when you finished putting your hair in a more presentable state, you hurried to put on your shoes, but when you noticed the time again, you only managed to put on a sock before grabbing the first pair of shoes in sight and running out of your room. 

as you run for the stairs, you didn't have time to react before a body collided with yours and spilled coffee all over your t-shirt.

the hot contents against your skin forced you to let out a small scream and dropped the shoes to the floor as you struggled to pull the fabric of your t-shirt away from your body. 

"shit, shit, shit!" you cursed at the same time you blew on your t-shirt.

great, as if your day wasn't already going badly. 

"sorry," a small voice said.

you met your attacker's gaze as you looked up to see a beautiful female with green eyes and brown hair — morrigan's friend. 

right, you had forgotten that she had come home with the two of you — with mor. 

the female looked mortified as you stared at her annoyed. when you saw her opening her mouth to say something, you quickly stopped her.

"don't," you raised your hand at her, you didn't have time for this, "just. . .just go."

you pointed at morrigan's bedroom, whose door was slightly open. the female followed your direction, shrinking a little as she passed through you.

"idiot!" you cursed quietly. 

you looked at your bedroom and considered your options: the chances that you may find a new clean t-shirt in the middle of that mess, were very low and you were already late.

so you gave up and made your way down the stairs, starting to unbutton your shirt before completely taking it off, leaving you in your black lacy bra, and entering the kitchen.

rhysand and cassian who had been enjoying a late breakfast found themselves speechless upon your entrance. 

their gazes followed you as you moved to the sink and started working on removing the stain.

the males shared a gaze between them, identical smirks forming on both of their faces.

"good morning, y/n." rhysand greeted you as he took a sip of his tea cup.

you jumped startled, your eyes found theirs immediately, "gods, i didn't see you there."

rhysand's smirk grew wider. "oh, we know."

"did you get mugged?" cassian asked as he took in your figure.

you were barefoot with only one sock and shirtless.

"what?" you asked confused. 

cassian's eyes roam over your body.

"oh, no, morrigan's friend though it was a good idea to spill her coffee all over me. freaking idiot," you murmured the last part, still focused on the task in hand.

cassian let out a snort "well, i'll make sure to thank her personally for this amazing view."

you rolled your eyes at his comment "oh, shut up, cassian. we grew up together, we've all seen each other naked at one point."

rhys smirked and grew before adding "sure, but we were either kids or teenagers at those times." 

cassian glanced at his brother, amusement all over his features "maybe we should go back to those times."

with another roll of your eyes, you tried to suppress a smile at your friend's comment while trying to get rid of the stain.

as on cue, the shadowsinger entered the kitchen to join his brothers for breakfast.

instead, he was surprised with a view of you shirtless — his shirtless mate.

the very reason, rhys and cassian had begun to tease you in the first place. 

what made this whole situation much funnier — the fact that you weren't aware of this detail. 

and things had just become a lot more interesting now with azriel in the room. 

his eyes widened at the sight of you but when he turned to find his brothers, his eyes darkened and a low growl was released.

"nice of you to join us, brother," cassian said casually as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

he can practically feel the heat coming off of azriel, like smoke coming out of his ears.

"what's wrong, az?" rhys asked him, knowing exactly what was going on but seeing azriel riled up was too funny to miss it.

at the sound of their voices, you looked up and your eyes found a pair of hazel ones.

"oh, hi, azriel." you greeted him with your sweet smile — the one he liked so much.

the shadowsinger found himself melting at your words, at the way you said his name. 

his eyes instantly softed, a small blush coming to his cheeks and a goofy smile on his lips, "h-hi, y/n." 

you gave him a warm smile before going back to your task.

azriel regained his composure at the sound of his brothers' muffled laughter. 

he sighed and rolled his eyes at their behavior, he hadn't catched a break from them since he revealed the mating bond on one drunken night.

cassian elbowed rhys gently in the ribs to get his attention, when his eyes found his, the general gestured with his head to the shadowsinger. 

"hey, az" cassian tried to contain his urge to laugh, he knew what was about to happen. 

"what?" azriel managed to say, his eyes still on your figure.

"we were just talking. . ." cassian started, his voice teasing "about going back to those times when we were teenagers." 

azriel face scrunched in confusion, he shot his brother a look. 

"you know," cassian continued, his peripheral vision caught rhys trying to control himself  "those times where we didn't care about being naked in front of each other." 

both rhys and cassian snorted at the sight of azriel's face turning red.

"what?!" the male let out a little too loud then he had intended.

rhys proceeded, "yeah, you know. when we didn't care so much about formalities. don't you agree, y/n?" 

you rolled your eyes again at rhys comment, "i think you two have too much free time" you chuckled, "cauldron has mercy on the poor females that will ended up as your mates."

"hey!" both cassian and rhys protested.

azriel smiled at your comment, but it fell when he observed both of his brothers eyes roaming over your body, grins splattered on their features.

azriel moved to the edge of the table, placing his hands on the surface of it before giving them a glare and clenching his jaw.

"stop looking at her like that before i break your faces" he threatened through gritted teeth. 

cassian and rhys were quick to lift their arms in surrender, both muttering a small "yes, sir." 

azriel rolled his eyes in annoyance. his attention was caught when he heard you cursed quietly. 

he sent one last warning look to the two males before moving to stand behind you.

he was so close, that all it took was another step of his for your back to be pressed against his chest.

azriel would love to know the feeling of that sensation, but he remained where he was.

he peeked through your shoulder and saw that you couldn't get rid of the annoying coffee stain. 

"gods, madja is going to kill me for being late." 

without a second thought, azriel took a step back.

"here," he told you.

you turned to find him taking off his own shirt.

your eyes roamed his body — his sun-kissed skin, his muscles, his illyrian tattoos. 

you loved those tattoos. 

"put it on," he extended his hand to you, holding out his shirt.

"oh, that's not necessary, az. i-"

"it's okay, y/n. i- i want you too. by the way, why don't you go get your shoes and i'll take you to the clinic? it's quicker that way and you don't have to walk." 

your face softened, "really? you would do that?" 

the corner of his lips lifted for a small smile, only you to make him feel this way.

"of course." 

you grabbed his shirt, "ugh, thank you, az."

you put it on and azriel tried to not let the sight of your small feature into his too big of a shirt to affect him, but he failed when his heart skipped a beat.

you moved forward and grabbed his cheeks, kissing him on the left one.

caught off guard, azriel tried to hide the fact that his skin had heated up under your touch. 

a new blush came to decorate his cheeks. 

"hm. . .i-" the male couldn't find his words with the sound of his heart roaming in his ears. 

"you're my hero, az" you gave a big smile before making your way to the stairs to collect your shoes. 

azriel stood there in the middle of the kitchen with a hand making it's way to his face to touch the place you kissed him.

cassian and rhys burst out laughing, not being able to remain composed of their brother in love. 

cassian got up from his seat and walked towards his brother, clasping a hand on his back.

"behold of the big bad scary shadow-," cassian leaned over in laughter, "shadowsinger" he managed to complete. 

rhys appeared on his other side, "oh, brother. only if your enemies could see you now, they would think how big of a fool they are."  

azriel clenched his jaw again, and when he turned to answer them, he was stopped by a honey-sweet voice.

"i'm ready," you told him from the entrance.

once again, the shadowsinger was left completely disarmed.

a goofy smile reappeared on his face. 

he didn't even spare a glance at his brothers before making his way to you, "let's go then."

cassian and rhys were left in the kitchen laughing to themselves.

•••

the trip to the clinic was quick.

azriel landed softly on the ground, keeping a hand on your waist and another on your back to make sure you were stable.

you took a step forward before turning to him.

"thank you again, az. you literally just saved my morning." 

and there it was that goofy smile again.

"oh, it's nothing really. my pleasure." 

you let out a small giggle. you reached forward, surrounding his neck with one of your arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek again.

azriel's heart raced and his voice caught in his throat. 

you took a step back "you're my hero, azriel. what would i do without you?" 

you caressed his cheek with the back of your hand before giving him one last smile and moving towards the clinic.

"hm, i-" was all the male managed to say while watching you entering the clinic with his shirt.

he watched as you grabbed the door, and turned to him to wave goodbye. 

azriel returned the gesture. it was at that moment that he realized how much power you had over him.

he didn't push away that feeling, in fact he embraced it.

it was about time to let the walls he had built so long ago disappear. 

and you were the right person for that.

azriel made a decision at that moment.

at the end of the day, he would come pick you up and ask you out on a date.

he would buy you flowers, tell you how he felt and take you to dinner.

he just hoped you felt the same way.

and that you said yes.

a/n: thank you for reading!

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjna @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because i couldn't find your blog.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[trashytracktales]

Heyy there loved your latest post about the reader’s struggle with mental illness and it hit so close to home, you wrote it beautifully. I especially loved how lando mentioned it would be a process to help her heal, because it truly is. It made me want to see a follow up of their lives after her struggles where out, I think Lando would definitely hover over her and be afraid whenever she isn’t close. I also think that the fact that she kept it a secret for so long and the thought of what could’ve happened if he didn’t get there terrify him. How about you write a continuation where he is so intense about it that the reader gets upset and they get into a fight where lando reveals his concerns and how he has been feeling after the revelation and the reader realizes how much this has been affecting him. I would totally understand if you don’t want to continue this fic since the one you wrote was very complete and well written, however I think it would be amazing to show how it feels to love someone that suffers from depression and how painful it is.

Aftermath | LN⁴

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟮 𝗢𝗙 𝗦𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘

*can be read as a standalone, but I reckon it makes more sense if you have some background story

🤍 summary ──── In the messy aftermath, they are forced to realize that healing isn’t about going back to who they were.

🤍 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🤍 rating ──── mature

🤍 word count ──── 3.5k

🤍 warnings ──── 16+, heavy angst, emotional distress, references to self-harm and feelings of worthlessness, mentions of guilt, codependency, and emotional burnout, swearing, sexual references, depiction of a supportive but emotionally intense relationship dynamic, comfort after pain.

Please prioritize your well-being while reading, my lovelies. If you click on the link to SEASONS CHANGE, you’ll find at the warnings section some (I’d like to think) useful resources.

🤍 date ──── Jun. 3, 2025

🤍 a/n ──── Listen. In theory, I don’t do part 2s. But clearly, I love emotionally wrecking myself (and all of you), so here we are. Please take this as a gentle threat and not an invitation to request multiple parts, because if it tickles my brain even slightly, I will spiral (and write it when you least expect it).

I am once again begging you on my knees to check this song out after finishing reading (not because ATL is one of my favorite bands, pfff 👀). But it brings me to actual tears has such good metaphors + it fits sooooo well from Lando’s POV ♥︎

SHE KNEW LANDO would change after what happened. She expected him to, but only to a certain extent. What she didn’t see coming was how incredibly fast he did it.

She noticed it in the smallest things at first. Like the way he asked her if she’s eaten, not like he used to, with a teasing grin and a slight suggestion to order takeout, but like he was checking a box on a list; like there was a right and wrong answer.

His kisses didn’t taste the same. He held her hand, brushed the hair behind her ear, and each move, without a doubt, was carefully measured.

Lando used to be spontaneous and loud around her, messy in a way she loved. Watching him was her favorite pastime, no matter what he was doing. Sometimes his socks weren’t matching, his texts were full of typos, and he used to laugh at her in the sweetest manner if her hair looked funny after napping or her shirts were stained with coffee or make-up.

Now, he’s precise. Hesitant. Clean and controlled. His texts look edited, manicured and made to reach a level of seriousness so uncharacteristic of him. He walks on eggshells around her, like any sudden movement might crack her open and reveal her darkest parts. He feels like someone who read an article on How to Support Your Mentally Ill Partner and took it to heart.

It simply breaks her.

Her new Lando opens doors, gently asks how she slept, brings her tea when she looks tired. Candies when she’s pissed off for whatever reason. He gives her space when she seems out of place and asks if she wants to talk when her voice is too quiet.

He was doing those things before, but now every action holds a different meaning. She knows it should make her feel cared for, but all it does is make her feel guilty.

Ashamed.

High maintenance.

The worst part is that she is aware that Lando is trying. She knows he’s doing it because he loves her. Because he’s worried. Because he’s new to this. Because he doesn’t want to take a step in the wrong direction.

But watching him tiptoe around her like she’s fragile doesn’t make her feel loved. Quite the opposite. It makes her feel like a burden, and it makes her want to scream. In his face. Loudly. With a megaphone, perhaps, to make sure he hears her loud and clear.

All she wants is for things to go back to normal — their normal. But every thoughtful gesture and every careful word is a reminder that they can’t go back there anymore. That she changed things. That she made him this way. And sadly, she doesn’t know how to tell him that his kindness is hurting her and all his trying is making her feel more alone than ever.

She catches Lando looking over his shoulder with pity.

She feels it in the way he touches her with more intent when he holds her hand, in how his fingers tighten ever so slightly when they intertwine.

She notices it in the way he hesitates before leaving, before heading to the airport and she’s not with him.

Her boyfriend is no longer the carefree, easygoing person she fell in love with. He’s tense, always on edge, always watching. He doesn’t sleep properly, doesn’t laugh the same way, as if there’s something stopping him.

It’s her that’s stopping him.

At least, that’s what the voice inside her head tells her.

She never wanted that. Never wanted him to lose himself in the mess of her mind, where things are rarely quiet. Lando is supposed to be the one and only thing in her life untouched by her ugly side, the one place where she doesn’t feel like she needs to pretend.

It makes her sick that every time she looks at him, she sees how much he’s carrying, and how much of her weight has settled onto his shoulders. It isn’t fair, and it makes everything worse than before.

Their night out was supposed to be a break from everything. An enjoyable excuse to forget about everything that happened, and just let go. That’s what she had told herself when she agreed to go out with their friends. It was supposed to be normal. Just a couple of drinks, a lot of laughter, a few hours where she could trick herself into believing that their lives are this perfect all the time.

She had wanted to see Lando relax, even just for a little while. But he hadn’t.

Instead, he had spent the entire night guarded. Not in the way he used to when they were going out, stealing glances across the room, his eyes lighting up when she caught him staring. This time, he had been tracking her, every movement, every shift in her expression, every time she excused herself from the table, and every sip of alcohol. It made her want to scream right there, in the middle of the crowded bar.

So, they left early.

Back at their apartment, the silence is deafening.

She follows him into the bedroom, their movements mechanical, as they start to change. Lando pulls his sweater over his head, tossing it onto the bed at the same time she unzips her dress, the fabric slipping off her shoulders, pooling at her feet.

“All good?” he asks in the same careful tone she’s already used to; the same tone she hates.

She nods, even though he’s not looking at her yet. “Yeah. You?”

The dry exchange of words makes her cringe. It’s like they don’t even know how to talk to each other anymore.

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?” he tries to shoot her a smile over his shoulder, but it’s weak and she doesn’t buy it.

“Maybe because you looked like you were being held hostage most of the night,” she shrugs.

Lando chuckles, “Was I?”

“I don’t know,” the girl replies. “You didn’t look like you were having fun. You had that face on, you know? The same one you’ve been wearing a lot lately,” her voice is laced with sarcasm, but there’s a sharp edge underneath, and he knows it’s meant to cut deeper than the surface.

Lando’s smile fades away as he exhales through his nose, clearly fighting his inner demons to keep his tone level.

“Well, I was having fun,” he insists, finally turning around. “It was nice to just be out with everyone for a while. With you.”

“You sure?” she shakes hear head in disbelief, her eyes wide. “Because it felt more like you were trying to monitor me than actually enjoy yourself. It’s suffocating,” the words are harsh, but she can’t stop them from leaving her mouth in a frustrated manner. More than that, she doesn’t even want to.

Lando’s hands pause at the hem of his shirt that he wore underneath, “What?”

Irritated, she runs a hand through her hair, while struggling to get her shoes off. “You haven’t stopped looking at me like...,” her voice trails off for a quick moment. “It’s like you’re always one step away from putting a leash around my neck. It’s suffocating,” she repeats.

His expression doesn’t change, but Lando looks genuinely curious when he asks, “Can you blame me?”

She laughs, but there’s no humor behind it. “No. I am blaming myself,” she admits it out loud.

Lando finally gets rid of his shirt, throwing it next to his hoodie while keeping his gaze on her, and all she can see behind his eyes is more fucking pity. So, she closes hers for a second, channeling every ounce of patience that’s left inside.

“I just wanted one night where I didn’t feel like some soft thing that you have to take care of.”

“I’m your boyfriend. I signed up to take care of you, and I love doing it,” he reminds her like it’s the most obvious thing.

She exhales slowly. “I’m better, Lando. I told you I am.”

Lando nods, unconvinced. “Clearly,” he says, slightly annoyed. “You promised you’ll talk to me,” he points out, “But then you started acting like nothing ever happened. Excuse me for being vigilant.”

His affirmation hits her like a slap.

Vigilant. Adjective. Carefully observant or attentive; on the lookout for possible danger.

She swallows, forcing herself to meet his gaze once again. “Yes, because I’m a ticking bomb that can go off at any moment, aren’t I?” her voice is cracking towards the end, tears flooding her eyes.

“Come on, baby. No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he insists. “Wasn’t I clear when I told you I’m all in? All I asked—”

She shakes her head, throwing the shoes on the floor, cutting him off in the process. “I am asking you to stop. I know you want to help, and I appreciate you for it. But right now, I just want to go on with our lives, and forget for just a couple of hours how extremely fucked up in the head I am. I never wanted you to change for me.”

“Yeah, but I had to!” his voice rises, irritation boiling over. “You think I can just go back to who I was, knowing what I know now? I can’t allow myself to be that blind again and just act like nothing happened. Baby, I can’t,” he says, pressing his hands together in a desperate gesture, as if he’s praying. “I won’t.”

Her jaw clenches. “It’s fucking bullshit. We were good before all this.”

“No,” Lando contradicts her. “I was good, because I had no idea you were at your lowest point, until I found you on that balcony. I was good,” he repeats, pointing at himself. “You were struggling. With me next to you, you were struggling. Do you understand how fucked up that is?”

The silence between them stretches for too long, and they both know that is about to snap at any moment. She can’t say anything right away, though. Can’t even look at him without bursting into tears.

“I get it,” she hears him speak again. “You didn’t want to worry me with all the stuff I have going on at the moment. Fine. But do you know what that feels like? To know you were falling apart and I didn’t even notice?” asks Lando, his own voice cracking now. “I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“This isn’t about you,” she points out, finally looking back at him.

“It is,” Lando contradicts her.

Her mouth opens at his audacity, but he keeps going, words tumbling out too fast for her to put an end to it.

“Because whenever I struggled, you were there. Every time I felt lost or panicked or like I couldn’t breathe, you stayed and made sure I was cared for. You always stayed,” he reminds her, his chest rising and falling quickly. “And when it was you? You hid it from me. You smiled through it. You lied to my face.”

His accusations makes her feel like a fraud. Like everything they built over time is cracked because of her silence.

She trusts him more than anyone. But somehow, the way it all played out, it doesn’t look like trust. It looks like deceit. Like fear. And that’s the part that stings the most: the idea that he might believe she didn’t let him in because he wasn’t enough, when the truth is she didn’t let him in because she was afraid she wasn’t.

And that’s what fear does to people: forces them to shut down. Isolates them.

“I never lied to you, Lando,” she says it more like a warning, stepping forward now, eyes wide and filled with unshed tears.

“You never told the truth, either.”

Suddenly, every bone in her body softens. They’re both half-naked, standing in the fragile quiet of the bedroom, the air thick with his dizzying scent and her sweet perfume.

Lando brushes a strand of hair from her cheek, his touch gentle. She leans into it without thinking, and his palm, broad and warm, cradles the side of her face lovingly.

“You were fighting for your life, and I was out there talking about work and planning stupid trips,” his words drip now like honey, unrushed yet accusing. “That’s on me. My fault.”

She shakes her head vehemently, “Baby, stop saying that,” she whispers, but Lando doesn’t stop.

“I missed it,” he continues, as if he’s mostly talking to himself. “You were right in front of me and I didn’t see you. What kind of person does that make me?”

“The kind who couldn’t have known, because I didn’t let you,” she replies without hesitation, taking a small step back.

“Yeah, because you’re so smart, is that it?”

“Lando,” she warns him, but he doesn’t seem to want to listen to her nonsense anymore.

He turns away at her subtle attempt to put distance between them, pacing toward the window and gripping the back of a chair like it might keep him steady.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he admits, and it almost makes him laugh; the man who thought that he can do anything, has no idea how to save the only thing that matters most. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like if I look away for one second, I might lose you for good,” his voice has a different inflection, caught between defeat and the irrational urge to beg her to never leave him.

She can see how much he’s struggling to make her listen to his side, and even though she acknowledges it, she can’t accept it without denying hers.

Slowly, she walks to him and wraps her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek against the heated skin of his back. He’s warm and solid under her touch, and it makes her feel so safe. She closes her eyes, holding him tighter, like if she stays there long enough, she can absorb some of the ache he’s been carrying solely because she threw it at him in a moment of weakness.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, but isn’t sure what she’s sorry for at this point.

Lando turns around to face her, and the look in his eyes scares her now; it’s too raw, too painful. “You think I have a choice?” asks Lando, his breathing ragged. “I wake up every day wondering if you’ll ever going to let me in again. And I walk through the door every time wondering if you’ll still be here when I come back.”

Even in the dim light of the room, she can see how his eyes are now sparkling with tears; another dagger to her heart.

She sighs, knowing this is her only chance to make him understand. “I love you,” she says, the affirmation forcing Lando to look away and shake his head, knowing love won’t help this time. “But this isn’t helping me, Lando,” she cups his chin, redirecting his focus back on her. “And if I’m being honest, it’s making it worse.”

Lando exhales sharply, dragging a hand over his face. “Alright. Good. Then what do you want me to do? Because I sure as hell won’t pretend I’m not fucking terrified all the time. Or is that what you want?”

“For fuck’s sake, Lando!” the word bursts out of her before she can stop it. “Yes! If you have it in you, lie to me. Pretend. Because every time I see you like this, it just reminds me of why. And I hate it. I hate that I did this to you. You fucking pity me,” she accuses him with disgust in her voice. “You treat me like I’m a child. You don’t act the same way. You don’t laugh anymore. You don’t even kiss me like you used to. And you sure as hell don’t fuck me the same way either.”

The words hang in the air like a bullet caught in slow-motion, and he freezes. She wants to push him away, but Lando wraps his arms around her waist, making sure she’s not running anywhere now that she dropped so many bombs on him.

His face twists in hurt and anger, disbelief flickering all at once. “You think this is about pity?”

The girl nods once, but determined. “I feel like I’m not your girlfriend anymore. Like all of this has become just an obligation to you.”

His arms tighten harder around her. “Yeah? You think I don’t want you?” he spits the words, incredulous. “That I don’t crave you all the fucking time?”

She has to swallow the lump in her throat before shooting her response at him, but Lando beats her to it. His jaw clenches against the side of her face, and for a second, he just breathes her in. Then he presses his lips to her cheek, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low enough to send shivers down her spine, blistering with certainty.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he warns her. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. You have no idea what you do to me. Even now.”

She tries her best to win her right to conversation once again, but it’s like he’s casting spells, and his despair never sounded more beautiful.

“I’ll kiss you until there’s no air left in your lungs. Until you forget every single voice in your pretty head that ever made you doubt yourself,” he says it with enough confidence that it actually makes her believe him this time. “And if that’s what you need, I’ll fuck every insecurity out of you. Repeatedly, until you’ll beg me to stop. Do you understand?” his last question sounds so melodic in her ears, and all she can do for now is simply nod, lips slightly parted and palms traveling up his flexed muscles until they end up around his neck.

She pulls him in, and the second their lips meet, everything else is put in time-out. The kiss is tender, sweet, a little hesitant even. It’s not rushed or rough; it’s the kind of kiss that says I know you see me, I see you too.

By the time she pulls back, her lungs are indeed burning, and his forehead rests against her, breathless, with the ghost of his mouth still lingering on hers.

Then, as if there’s someone out there that could hear them right now, Lando speaks in a whispered voice, “I watched you sit on the edge of the balcony and I didn’t know if I’d be fast enough. That was my first thought, and then my mind went blank.”

She’s breathing hard now, so is he. But not because of the kiss anymore. It’s the weight of reality that makes them both stop and realize the gravity of the situation.

“I’m so sorry, Lan,” she whispers back.

“I lose sleep because I’m having nightmares about it,” the knife keep twisting, putting hole after hole in her heart. “I don’t fucking pity you,” says Lando matter-of-factlty. “I love you. But I am scared. That’s it.”

That’s it. The simplest way to put it.

“So stop trying to push me away,” he continues, his eyes locking onto hers with intent. “I told you then, and I am telling you now: I’m not leaving. I don’t care if we have to figure out a whole new way to be together, or if we have to relearn how to do this.”

She exhales slowly, the kind of sigh that carries months of silence and years of ache. Her eyes hold his, glassy with tears, as if she’s still trying to catch up with the weight of everything he’s just said. Every word he’s poured out tonight folds into her chest, and only once it settles does she speak.

“I know that most of the time it doesn’t look like it, but I am trying,” she says. “Even when my own mind tries to convince me it’s not worth it,” her fingers graze his jaw, tentative, like she’s afraid she doesn’t deserve the contact. “I can’t promise I won’t fall back into it sometimes, you know that. But I can promise I won’t let it win. Not like that. Because you mean more to me. Always.”

For the first time since they got back, she sees an authentic smile on his face. It’s small, but it’s there, and it gives her all the strength to continue.

“Like, promise-promise, pinky promise?” asks Lando, tilting his head, searching her face. He sounds like a little boy asking for reassurance in a world too big. It makes her want to cry and laugh all at once.

Instead, she lifts her pinky between them.

Without hesitation, Lando hooks it with hers like it’s a contract written in unicorn blood and stardust and glitter. And then, without warning, he grabs her by the waist and lifts her off the ground, making her yelp before he drops her gently onto the bed, her laughter breathless and real for the first time in what feels like forever.

He hovers over her, curls falling into his eyes, the smallest grin playing at his lips; there’s so much love behind his piercing gaze.

He kisses her then.

And she lets him in, again and again, even though they know it isn’t over. Not even close.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

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HIIIII UR LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAV WRITERS IN TUMBLR and ily so much 💝 i appreciate all your hard work that you poured into your writings, making them perfect to read. i've been obsessed with himbo!joel lately and i have an idea. idk if you've done this before but how ab himbo!joel and piss kink crossover? ignore this if you're feeling that you're not comfortable this ask! 🩷

Nonny, I know you submitted this back in May but this has been top of my mind for so long. When i first read this, I was ELATED because Himbo!Joel's original first draft was actually a piss kink! I went a different direction but I'm sooooo glad you've asked this because i didn't have to throw away the og after all :) Thank you for your patience and please enjoy!

Different Kind of Lovin'

Himbo!Joel Miller x F!Reader

warnings: Piss kink, Mommy kink, himbo!Joel, unprotected sex, peeing inside vagina, sub!Joel, dom-ish!Reader, public sex, slight somnophilia, brief piss drinking

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel howls as you clench around him, taking a moment to pant like a dog in heat.

He buries his nose into your neck, where it’s safe, where he belongs, as you stroke along his sweated back. “You okay, baby boy?” You coo softly into his ear.

You feel his head nod. “Mkay...” He shivers before kissing your cheek and resuming his thrusts. In, out, up, down, again and again, in ample rhythm. He’s practicing a beat today. There’s a time for wild fucking with the intent to cum his brains out, and there’s a time for slow, sensual, methodical sex, which is something he’s working so well on today.

“You’re doing so good for Mommy today."

He purrs. His hips stutter from excitement, and you feel his cock swell impossibly larger in your swollen, squelching pussy. Joel pauses briefly, collecting himself before returning to his steady pace.

“Mommy,” he hums dangerously. You turn your head to look at him, but he’s still buried into your neck. Almost as if embarrassed by something.

“What is it, baby? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

He grunts again, shaking his head. His pace falters again. Humping in quick, desperate succession. He’s straining hard, fists clenched under your upper back. 

You gather his face, and he nearly loses it right there. Your eyes on him, so soft and sincere, and there for him. Always there. Whenever he needs you and whenever he wants you. Even when he doesn’t know it yet. You’re there, you’re here, you’re his.

“Tell me,” you whisper lovingly while stroking along the stubble of his beard.

He gathers his courage. “Mommy. I—um. I need…I need to pee.”

You can laugh. but a small grin cracks at your lips. “Is that it?”

He nods quickly. You realize all the clenching, and the poor rhythm was most likely due to him trying to hold it, as opposed to trying to be steady. 

Your smooth calves slink along his taught ass before wrapping around, securing him to you.

“That’s okay, angel,” you nod encouragingly, using your ankles to start rocking his hips back and forth, driving his cock in and out of you again. He moans, pleasure consuming his intuition. “You can do it inside.”

“I-Inside?”

His length pulses excitedly, but he’s trying so hard to act like that didn’t just give him a thrill. As if he can pretend he didn’t think of it before.

“Mhm. You can squirt all your juices into Mommy’s pussy. I want everything you give me. Give me your juices, Joel. Mommy wants to feel your warmth filling her. No matter what it is. Mommy will take it.”

“But—ugh fuck Mommy please don’t squeeze like that—I don’t… wanna pee myself—“

“You’re not gonna pee yourself,” you say sternly. Your hands make their way to his ass, pulling him into you at your own desired pace. He can’t be left to be in control of his desires right now, so you need to take charge, to show him it’s really okay.

To show him what he’s missing out on.

“You’re gonna squirt your piss inside me. It’s gonna be okay. It’ll feel really good honey, I promise.”

“Oh my god,” he cries. His brows are drawn tightly together as he takes your lead. His throbbing member is practically forcing out your sweet pussy juices, making way to fill it with his own brew. 

You can barely see straight as he positions his knees to force himself deeper into your womb. Arching your back, Joel holds on tightly, arms tucked below your pits and hands snaked back over your shoulders as his whining increases. The room fills with your hot breaths, Joel’s throaty rasps, and the fastened slap of wet skin.

His voice catches in his throat when it happens. The tingling sensation feels free, and he releases inside of you. He can’t believe it. Can’t comprehend the feeling inside him, inside you right now. Dumping, pouring, squirting and stuffing you to the brim with his massive load of hot urine just shooting out of his cock and safely into your pussy. He never knew it could be this good. you were right, you always are of course, but to think it would amount to the level of pleasure, yet on a different end, as cumming inside you.

“That’s it—that’s my boy—ohhhh honey you had to go a lot didn’t you?” You tease, eyes rolling as you start to shake and cum around his cock. “Oh fuck! Oh baby that’s it. Keep squirting inside me. Fuck you always have big load. Always ready to fill Mommy with your sweet hot juices. Fuck Joel, keep going!”

You quiver as Joel’s mouth still is agape, watching you, having an out of bodied experience himself. He feels another stream, stronger than the last ready to make its way from his bladder to your cunt, and here it comes-- fuck yes!

Hot and wet, his urine plunges out of you in spurts, soaking your ass and the bed below. He pushes in further, feeling his balls and pelvis get soaked with his new juices that his Mommy loves so much. Why had he never peed inside you before? Given the blissed out look on your braindead face, he knows you liked it, you liked it so much. He starts thrusting again, eager to give you more of his warm juices from his body.

The squelch is phenomenal. So hot, hot, hot, sticky and wet all over. Fueled now the he still hasn’t cum. Where his piss ends and your slick begins, he can’t tell, and he loves it. Loves that he’s put something in you that couldn’t be contained, flows out like the love he fills you with each day.

You laugh off his hungry fucking again, no longer caring to practice rhythm. He can rut, hump, piss and cum to his hearts content. So long as he’s buried balls deep inside you, anything he wants to pour into you, he’s eager to put it in.

Eventually, he can’t pee anywhere comfortably unless it’s inside you. Which makes regular day to day routines… slightly more complicated than before. 

Like at night, when you’re fast asleep with his cum still sticky and leaking out of you. He fists his cock and slides right in, careful not to stir you. He holds his breath and starts to go, wetting the you and the bed. He passes out in a puddle of his own piss before you can really discipline him. 

He finds you without fail, whether you’re in the same house or 5 miles apart. When he needs to go, he gets hard too, and he knows only Mommy can handle that for him.

Pushes you against a wall and grinds his length against your ass. “Mommy,” he hums with a grin. “I need to go, please.”

It’s not really an ask, as he strips your pants down and pushes aside your panties, rolling his bulbous tip against your slit. He doesn’t wait for a reply. Poor thing, probably holding it in all day and doing a little funny dance as he rushed his way to find you and give you his juices.

“Have a big potty for ya today. Almost burst my juice everywhere. Got to ya just in time…”

He pushes in one go, his voice stuttering with a lazy grin. Not even a thrust later and he moaning in content as he pisses inside your hot pussy with even hotter urine. It rapidly spills and trickles down your thighs. Luckily from experience, you had known to discard and kick your pants away when he does this, so the yellow puddle of his liquid forms on the pavement below. 

He grips your hips with both meaty paws, grinding his front into your ass as closely as possible. It feels best when his tip can brush along your cervix before spurting out the last of his potty. 

“Joel Miller, you have made a mess of me,” you say, shaking your head with a slight smirk.

Rather than feeling any remorse, he returns your grin with an even bigger one of his own, slowly sliding down to his knees while maintaining eyes with you.

He swallows just as you lean back and spread your legs, fingers parting your folds to reveal the shiny translucent drips of his piss still wetting your cunt and down your inner legs. 

“Clean me spotless, and I’ll let you piss in Mommy’s ass, and I’ll plug it all day so I keep your love warm for the next time you have to go.” 

You never need to ask twice. His tongue is already lapping at your knees, between your thighs and up to your succulent, swollen, precious, pretty pussy. Sucking the little dribble on your clit. Straightening his tongue to dive deep into your entrance before flattening it, stretching your wall and making a slide so his pee and your juices can slide right into his mouth.

He smiles like a stupid, drunk, fantastic boy.

He can’t wait to put his piss in your ass next. 

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[allfortheslay25]

Hi!!! I love your blog and was wondering if you have any Milo and Warren hcs?

Spoilers for Milo’s Future

The first cordial conversation these two have actually happens at Eden’s (before it is ruined lol)

Like I’ve mentioned before, Milo’s goal while being with the Foxes was to improve their teamwork and help them win a game. One of their team bonding things he suggested was clubbing together so he took them to Eden’s since his family has a history there (and he could house them in the Columbia house which he bought from an old Fox when he was 15)

Wymack allowed the team to go out as long as they stayed in doors and didn’t get into too much trouble. Milo was stuck babysitting the real trouble makers and he unfortunately had a rude awakening that the bartender he met back as a kid (Roland) was not as chill as he thought he was

Warren let the cigarette burn away at the tips of his nails. Christen leaned closer to his knuckles to blow at the cherry end, smirking when he recoiled in disgust.

“You need to smoke it or it’ll die.” Christen said.

Warren stuffed his free hand into the leather confines of his jacket pocket, clenching his fist so hard his scabs split open.

“Disgusting. Let it die.”

Ash stumbled, leaning her weight into Christen as she blew a mouthful of smoke his way. “I’ve been sooooo generous. We’ve been so generous. You don’t want to let your lungs stay a virgin forever, babe, it’s embarrassing.”

The striker had been nothing but a nuisance to Warren since he moved to the states. Intoxicated and naked, she preferred to press his buttons and rob him of his anger management progress. But Ash was scum and Warren found hanging out with someone like her made him feel better about himself, as horrible as it was. He felt indebted to her after knocking her out of last year’s season. Warren looked down at the cigarette between her fingers. It was hard to tell the arm had ever been broken at all.

When her hands reached for his face, he moved his arm up, stopping her in her tracks. Christen pulled them back, far enough that Warren would be forced to take three steps forward if he so much as wished to snap their necks.

“My eyes are up here,” Ash cooed.

Warren glanced away from her long throat and scowled at the two oufs.

“Really, though, how do you expect to manage all that crazy without something to take off the edge? Smoking a cigarette is the least dangerous option we’ve offered you.”

Christen jostled her. “I don’t even know why you bothered asking the retard.”

Warren dug his thumbnail through his pointer finger and clenched his teeth so hard he’d be sure to crack his jaw.

Ash grinned and hip checked Christen. “I like him. Big scary European dog. Woof woof.”

Warren curled his lip. He didn’t know how far intoxicated she was but it couldn’t be as hard as their usual routine. He saw Milo empty their pockets before they left.

Just like that, Warren’s body sagged in content. The image of Milo’s beautiful eyes swirled through his brain like crystal waves at the beach. Sometimes, Warren got jealous of the sun, being that the evidence of its kisses freckled his skin every time he saw him. Warren would not insult God by praying for the man, but he begged his forgiveness every night for he knew who he’d see in his dreams. Such a twisted form of fate to introduce him to someone so addicting. It wasn’t right. Warren was sure you’d have to first taste something for it to control you so, yet here he stood, poisoned with no antidote for heartache. Oh, Warren wanted so deeply it burned. It will burn. The devil smirks at me now.

“Hey!”

Warren startles, his fist coming out of his pocket but then he sees the eye of the sea and stops. Milo was a sight to behold. He’d demanded everyone dress their best for this night out, as if it were a requirement for entry at this so-called ‘Eden’. Warren had allowed Ash to dress him and in turn, he’d lent Christen a few things. But Milo had surely tricked him. The man must be planning Warren’s murder, why else distract him with a flash of his gorgeous and freckled abdomen. So many freckles.

Milo stomped over to the blonde mooncalves. Christen once again pulled them away, far from where the young Minyard-Josten could smell their deceit.

“You two! Get back inside!” He shouted.

Christen and Ash moved faster than Warren thought possible, hiding the cigarette and Ash’s positively large pupils. Milo chased them to the back door of the club, a breathtaking view as the moonlight earned her turn to caress his face in her light. Warren swallowed the lump in his throat or maybe the Lord holds his tongue as punishment for his unfathomable lust.

“Don’t ruin the night for everyone! You both know Coach said to stay indoors!” Milo hisses at their backs.

He huffed, shoulders going down as he muttered something venomous under his breath. Warren’s face flushed at the intrusive idea that Milo ought to shout at him instead. Don’t waste your words on the air or the piss covered concrete. Cuss at me. Spit the poison at me, burn me with your glare. Warren vaguely recognized the heat from the cigarette threatening at the first knuckle of his finger. It wasn’t enough to bring him out of his longing. Milo’s teal coat emphasized the color in his irises, but paled in comparison to the makeup he asked the Captain to frame around his eyes after Barry David called him a slur. Warren had begun to realize Milo lived to spite others. He wore makeup to spite David, sung in the locker rooms to press the men’s buttons, trimmed his hair because Ash said long hair was more attractive on him, and pressed his chest against Warren’s just because he stole the ball from him during scrimmages. And if Warren found more ways to knock over Milo’s stick, just to feel the idea of Milo’s heartbeat against his own—

“Oh, Warren…” Milo noticed him, awkwardly dropping his tensed fists behind him.

Warren was too dumbfounded to speak. He bit his tongue to prevent it from getting him in trouble. Despite what the team thought, he wasn’t slow. English wasn’t easy, he found it hard to form a sentence that wasn’t as vulgar as he learned from the Sharks back in France. They taught him all the bad words first, then worse things so he’d follow along during their threats. But English, Greek, nor French—none of their vocabularies held the words Milo deserved to hear. However, this was his chance was it not? Couldn’t he start fresh? Couldn’t he apologize? He hadn’t ruined it all just yet. Milo isn’t like the rest. He closes the distance with Warren everytime they speak, he stands too close, closer than anyone on the team had the courage to. He could close the distance. He didn’t need Milo to hold him or fall in love with him. Warren was okay watching from the sidelines, listening to his voice was enough. Let me watch as you play exy with the kind of fire that devastates our earth, let me listen to you ramble on about anything. I’ll hang on to every word like clothes on a line or a painting on a wall. Just say yes.

Milo smiled, as if he heard Warren’s thoughts.

“Having fun?” He asked.

Warren bit down harder. He shrugged in lieu of an answer.

Milo glanced down at his cigarette. Warren was about to crush the offending stick until Milo leaned closer, taking a deep breath and giving Warren a soft look. “Sorry,” he said bashfully, “the smell reminds me of simpler times. It’s nice.”

“Do you smoke?” Warren blurted.

Milo paused, maybe not expecting Warren to speak at all.

“No… I can’t. But it’s a nice reminder that things hadn’t always been so bad.” He gives the cigarette one last gentle look before shrugging off the wall. “I’d better go back inside, make sure everyone is safe.”

Warren watched him go, because it’d be cruel to force him to stay. He looked down at the cigarette still holding on between his crooked fingers and brought it to his lips.

This is what the sketches looked like from three years ago lol

I would’ve added the rest of the scene (I wrote it three years ago) but the post was getting too long. Anyways, unfortunately the night ends when Milo is really put off by Roland (who’s been flirting with him since he found out who he was) so he’s trying to get his foxes to leave. Ashely refuses and is just doing drugs and chatting up some dude. Warren, pent up from the anger Chris and Ash stacked on him all night, went to civilly bring her to the cars. Ash badmouths him and comments on his mothers and his hard on for Milo (which is a joke since no one knows he’s crushing) so Warren snaps and breaks her jaw on the counter of the bar. They’re kicked out of Eden’s and Milo has to get them to the ER

Warren ruined his development with Milo who begins to be cautious around him now, keeping Warren at arms length and worst of all, Warren watched Milo’s hands tremble as he dialed coach on the way there.

[destinationtrekk]

aftercare with wesker headcanons

a/n: he's taking over my brain like a parasite. i need him to kiss me sooooo bad and i'm 100% convinced he's the aftercare master

gn!reader, mentions of sex, nothing explicit but 18+ MDNI anyway

masterlist

the very first thing he does when he finally pulls out of you is cradle your face and check on you

he's very mindful of your state the entire time you're having sex, or doing anything together really, but he likes to make sure the endorphins and adrenaline haven't overwhelmed you after you finish (probably for the third or fourth time, at least)

he immediately wipes you down as well, he knows you hate to be sticky and you get really cold when your sweat dries

if you want to take a shower instead, he goes in with you. even if you're perfectly fine, he still wants to stay close. he's addicted to the quiet intimacy you give him and he'll use any excuse to justify never leaving your side

he's a velcro-boyfriend lapdog basically

in the shower he'll do everything for you as well, washing your hair and rubbing soap all over you to clean you off

sometimes this leads to another round, but it's pretty rare. even in his spacious shower he's still just a little too tall to make the position work

he'll sit you on the bathroom counter and dry you off, using a clean towel and taking his time to touch every inch of you.

sometimes, when he's been really rough on you, he'll make you lay flat so he can check you out, make sure he didn't tear you anywhere and that you don't have any chaffing or raw spots. he's so gentle when he touches you then, his fingers feather light as he rubs lotion or ointment on your sore spots

he's such a caretaker, now that he has someone he wants to take care of

once when you first got together, you had shyly asked for one of his t-shirts to sleep in, and even now, years later, he still hands you a soft shirt from his side of the closet and the sight of you wrapped in his clothing makes his heart soar

he makes you lay down and tucks you in, hands stroking over your head and arms while you smile sleepily up at him

he always makes you eat something, even if it's just some crackers or cheese or even a few pieces of chocolate. ideally he wants you to eat something like a protein bar, but you rarely have the stomach for anything heavy

he also makes you drink water, an entire bottle. he'll watch you to make sure you finish it, whether you chug it or take a few minutes to drink it, speaking softly with him in the mean time

he makes sure everything is ready before he finally gets in bed with you, checking the doors and locking them and flicking lights off. he has a really hard time shutting his mind off, even when he's this tired and content, so sometimes it takes you sitting up and pouting for him to settle and get in bed

this is his favorite part - 100%. you're wrapped tight in his arms, face pressed into his neck and warm breath fanning over his chest. it makes his heart skip a beat, the way you melt against him like you don't have a care in the world

he can smell your hair like this, and rub his hand up and down your back and cup your head to pull you closer. he's making sure to touch you as much as he can, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces

you know he needs this just as much as you do. you make sure to thank him, to tell him what you liked and that you're grateful to have such a generous and kind partner to take care of you, and finally, that you love him

he appreciates it, every time, and hearing those three words from your lips (especially after he spent hours doing nasty, vulgar things to make you squirm and moan)

like i said he gets so deep in his head, whether it's before or after uroboros, and he really needs the reassurance that, after everything, you're actively choosing to love him

he tells you the same, that you were so good for him, so pretty and he adores you, and he loves you

he actually doesn't say he loves you very often. sometimes he's in his head and struggling with his emotions and the words are too much for him

he says them every time he's holding you like this though. not for himself, but to make sure you're happy and warm and comfortable and safe

you inevitably fall asleep on top of him, dead weight lax in his arms, and he's certain he's never been so happy in his life

[teaxeee]

HIII TEAAA my pookie how are you?!

i haven’t been on tumblr in a while But i am still very very insane for gyuvin. sooooo ..

gyuvin who cums soooo much n when i say so much i mean likeee so much that he gets embarrassed.. he’s jsut like apologizing for it over and over if you suck him off or give him a handjob JSFJSJKSSJ pathetic gyuv has been on my mind idk if i want to ruin or be ruined by him (Both .)

i just feel like you’d be the one who understands my horny ass brain JSJSJSJS anyways byebye now ily

OMG HII POOKIE! I'm doing good, how about you? Also felt this so fucking bad, I get u so bad hehehe :3

Imagine jerking Gyuvin off for the 5th time that day, his stamina being so insane that it makes you wonder how much longer it would take before he finally breaks. Your hand was already hurting from giving him hand jobs earlier, but he? He was enjoying it, moaning loudly whenever you touched the tip of his cock, his hips jerking forward, trying to fuck into your fist.

You could tell how close he was by how much he was starting to pant, and within a few minutes he cums, covering your hand and his stomach with his seed, both of you watching how much of it spurted out, his cock twitching from the force of his orgams. Of course, he'd start apologizing again as soon as he's done cumming of what felt like buckets of cum. That would only cause you to laugh, trying to reassure him that it's fine, but it only makes him tear up and cry.

Poor baby, maybe he just needs a proper blowjob from you to make him feel better :(

[fortunekookie07]

hii can i request a highschool au, where sylus is the scary but popular jock x nerdy/normal reader😫 thank you!!

Not Just The Girl Next Door

Nonnie, I absolutely adore your request. Because you brought it to me. Thank you sooooo much for trusting me to craft your desire. Love you for it.

I am immensely sorry it took so long. I hope I haven't disappointed you. I struggled with this one a bit, and not because your request was hard, I didn't want to deliver a cliché. I rewrote this one a couple times. If you want to see the unfished alternate, let me know.

****************************************************

Sylus, how could one name make your heart feel full of giddines? Put those butterflies in your stomach and make your brain mush?

He'd been your classmate since preschool. He even lived on your street. How could one person be so close and yet so far out of reach?

You never minded his teasing, he'd never taken it too far. After all, it was to be expected. Many times, you'd examined yourself just to count all the things you saw as flaws.

Unruly wild red curls hung around your face and trailed over your shoulders all the way down your back to your hips. Your mother absolutely loved your hair. You'd lost count of how many times she'd begged you not to cut or change the color.

The round glasses perched on your nose framed your face nicely, but you hated their necessity. If only you'd gotten your mother's perfect vision. You had yet to win the debate on trying contacrs.

If only you were taller, being the shortest one in the senior class was irritating. People often mistook you as a freshman and sometimes you knew it was on purpose.

Sylus had been the one to start the jokes. While the rest of your classmates were getting taller, you didn't. The only thing that has grown was your curves. Your mom liked to say that you had the perfect hourglass figure. One that you worked hard to hide. Being teased for having no boobs as opposed to being well-endowed was much better.

It was easy to hide with the schools mandatory uniform. Button up white collared shirts, a sweater vest in dark blue or gold. For the girls, a pleated plaid skirt in the same colors. The boys could wear black or dark blue pants. During the winter months, a black jacket could be worn.

As you stood in front of the mirror, examining your appearance, you could hear your mother calling you from downstairs. "Are you ready yet? You need to be leaving now!" You scrambled to shove your feet into shoes while trying to smooth your hair back so you could braid it. "I'm coming, mom!" You shouted back to her, tying the end of the briaid and scooping up your bag.

"Have a good day." She said, kissing your forehead and then pushing you out the door. It was windy today. Spring was just around the corner. Hurrying to your car, you quickly started the engine just as your phone rang. It was Tara.

"Hey girl!" She answered with her usual bubbliness. "Can you pick me up? My dad confiscated my keys this morning." You knew instantly that she had a story and had gotten into trouble again. "Yeah, I'll be there in three minutes." Her sigh of relief had you shaking your head.

Tara was extremely outgoing and well liked. It was a miracle that she had picked you, the quiet introverted girl with her nose always in a book as best friend. But that had been the case from the first grade till now. She tended to get into trouble with her dad a lot. He was always trying to calm her down and teach her patience. He wasn't mean, just very strict. Sometimes, he would compare the two of you. About how well-behaved you were and your much quieter nature.

She really tried sometimes to play the role he wanted, but it was hard. It was her nature to be loud, rowdy, and very outgoing. Maybe this was why you were friends. You balanced each other out.

Fifteen minutes later, you were settled into your first period English class waiting for the teacher. He was running late as usual. He had a knack for being perpetually late. Around you, you could hear whispers and the scratches of pens as people scrambled to do the homework from last class.

Ever the one prepared for class, your books and notebook sate neatly on your desk. No one was paying you any mind. Too focused on their own affairs. Well, you thought no one was watching you. How wrong you were.

"Well now, look here. The little Kitten is all ready for class." His deep baritone voice sent shivers down your spine. Sylus hadn't used your actual name in years. Ever since the day he'd dubbed you Kitten, that's all he would call you.

He swooped in and grabbed your notebook. Dodging your hands as you scrambled to get it back. "Give it back." You said, trying to remain calm. Getting angry or showing your frustration only spurred him on.

"Then jump for it." He said a smirk on his face as he held the notebook high in the air well over his head. He knew you couldn't get it. Your short stature would never allow it. What he didn't count on was your resourcefulness. Or the fact that you were agile.

Swiftly, you stood from your seat and climbed onto your desk. Anger fueling your actions. You jumped for it, fingers just barely brushing the spine as he changed the way he was holding it.

Forgetting yourself and where you were, you lunged, throwing your full weight at him as you jumped higher. This time, you managed to grasp your notebook. It would seem your mom's insistence on dance classes was not useless.

Sylus stumbled as your full weight pushed him back. He clearly wasn't expecting you to throw yourself at him for the notebook.

"What's going on in here?" The sharp voice of Mr. Reynolds snapped you back to reality. The position you were now in was clearly inappropriate for a classroom. Your body was firmly pressed against Sylus. His hand pressed firmly against your waist. He was practically laying on the desk with you on top of him. Still holding the notebook with your hand tightly grasping it as well.

The look in his eyes was a mixture of surprise, amusement, and something you couldn't quite name.

Mr. Reynolds sharply called your name, and you scrambled back to standing. Face bright red with embarrassment. How you wished the floor would swallow you whole. This had to top any embarrassing moment you'd ever had in your eighteen years on this Earth.

Seeing how mortified you were, Mr. Reynolds turned to Sylus. "Explain yourself right now!" He was angry, face turning red as he glared.

"Just having a bit of fun. Just a joke." Sylus said nonchalantly. His ears were slightly red. Was he embarrassed, too? "Detention, both of you, go right now." He pointed to the door, shaking his finger as he did so. "I do not allow such nonsense in my classroom. If I ever see this level of disregard for school decorum again, I'll have you both expelled. I don't care if you are the star player or the top academic student. I'll not have it!"

Snatching your notebook from Sylus' hand, you scooped up your books and walked to the door, footsteps heavy with dread. Never, not once in all your years of school had you been in trouble. A teacher had never reprimanded you before, never mind yelling at you.

Your eyes burner with unshed tears. This was all his fault. You tried hard not to cry. You would not let him of all people see you shed a tear. A quick glance beside you, he looked completely unphased. How could he be so calm right now?? Anger took over.

"This is all your fault. Why can't you just leave me alone? I'm not a toy for your amusement. I do not exist to entertain you when you're bored." You chest heaved as you finally said what you'd always wanted to. "See me, Sylus. I am not your Kitten. I'm a person." Despite your best efforts you were crying now.

Tears slipping down your face as you finally told him all the things you'd wanted to say for years. You'd stopped walking, and so had he. His face had a broken expression as he stood there helpless while you cried. "See me." You said in a begging tone.

He stepped closer to you, gently pulling your glasses from your face. Using his sleeve, he wiped the tears even as they continued to fall.

He stared down at your face, puffy from crying, nose red. Cupping your cheeks as he looked down at you. You couldn't name the expression in his eyes. It tore at your heart.

How much you wanted something you were sure you couldn't have. Sylus could pick any girl he wanted, so why would he choose you? The small girl, the one who was always studying. Who didn't wear makeup or pretty jewelry. The one who hid herself away instead of showing off what she had. Why would he choose you? With a heart of gold, a fierce loyalty to the few friends you have and a deep love of your family.

Still wiping your tears away with his thumbs, he finally speaks. "Silly girl, why are you so silly? I've always seen you. How can I not see you?" His expression was tender gazing at you like he held the most precious thing in the world.

"You always make fun of me. You're always calling me short and teasing me for never handing in assignments late. For always being top of the class. You called me four eyes in primary school. You pull my hair and hide my books." You sniffle loudly, finally your tears have stopped.

He sighs loudly, breaking eye contact as he hangs his head. "For someone so smart, you're incredibly dense. I hope you know that." He looks at you again. "Have you never heard that a guy will pick on the girl he likes? I don't know how else to get your attention. You're not like other girls. You don't follow after me. You never talk to me unless I start. I've never seen you at any of my games. Tell me how I'm supposed to bring you back to my level?"

He's looking at you earnestly now, but your brain has disconnected. Surely he didn't mean that he liked you. You must have misheard him. "Wh-what did you say?" You stutter out after a minute of silence.

Sylus sighs deeply again. "Words have no effect, I see." He tilts your face upwards more, and before you can react, his warm lips steal yours. If your brain was disconnected before, it's completely offline and mush now. Unable to think of anything, slowly, your hands come up to grasp the lapels of his jacket, crushing them in your grip.

You stand on your toes so he doesn't have to lean down so far. In the back of your head, you're glad he took your glasses off. The lenses would be fogged up now. Pressing yourself closer, you give in. Your lungs are starting to beg for air, but you never want this moment to end.

But end it does, he pulls back, and you stare deeply into his red irises. The depth of his emotions is swirling around, trying to pull you in.

"Do you understand me now?" He asks quietly, watching you intently.

"Why me?" You mumble quietly. "Why not you? I've always been drawn to you. Ever since we were kids. You're like a flame that burns just for me. I don't want to be apart from you anymore. Don't pull away from me now." His voice is not more than a whisper, but it still pierces your heart.

The sincerity in his voice sends you over the edge. Your face burns red again, and you hide it in his jacket. "Is this going to be a habit of yours?" He asks, chuckling as he wraps his arms around you. "Shut up." You mutter against his chest. "We're still in trouble and have detention." He comments, and you freeze. You'd forgotten that detail.

"I'm still mad at you for that." You say stepping back. He grasps your hand and leads you to the office laughing.

****************************************************

I'm so sorry again for the long wait. I hope you get all the fluffy feels out of this that I tried to pack in.

If you want to read my original draft, message me. If you want to take a different route and finish the one I started, I will relinquish it. Just let me know.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

hiii !! i'm a new follower and I just wanted to say I LOVE ur writings oml ur like my safe place fr <33 I wanted to know if u could do headcanons of either Stan or Ford (honestly idc i love both my daddies sm) would react/comfort their lover that deals with health anxiety ? that's obviously my case lolz, I've been in a health anxiety crisis for like 3 months straight, i'm 100% convinced i have like 5 different cancer even if my doc said I'm fine, and I recently find my absolute nightmare, a lump in my boobie ☹️. So I just wanted to know how my babies would react/comfort with a lover like me !!! Kisses kisses kissessssssssssssss

being anxious as hell about your own health is sooooo relatable to me :( oh god im so sorry you’re going through this. i really really wish your mind could give itself a break, because you deserve to be free of these heavy thoughts. spending so much energy on this is so exhausting and it breaks my heart you're going through it. i can’t imagine how terrified you must be, but i’m so proud of you for reaching out! i wish you to feel better in the near future, remember we are all here for you!

please look at these two cuties<3 this is for you sunshine

the text under the cut

sfw. health anxiety, hurt/comfort, fluff | Stan x reader, Ford x reader

Stanley might not have a degree in anything but has a fucking phd in loving someone through their weird little mental illnesses. so be sure, he KNOWS how to show love through action and he really wants to shake the anxiety out of your head. Stan wants to distract you, drag you away from it without you even realizing he’s doing it.

it'll start with “c’mere. lemme show you smth real quick,” and then he’s dragging you into the kitchen to teach you a weird recipe he's very good at (“s’not on the menu but i used to make it for Mabel when she was sad”). or he makes you sit on the porch in the sun while he points out every squirrel and bird, telling you stories from the past. if it’s nighttime, he makes up whole bedtime games. “you gotta name three snacks you’d eat right now if we had an infinite fridge. no repeats. go.” and if you answer right, he lets you wear his tank top to sleep. and god, when he tucks you into bed on bad nights, and sees your eyes go distant and glassy again, he cups your cheek and says, “hey. eyes on me, sweetheart. you don’t gotta go anywhere scary tonight.”

he’ll lie beside you for hours, even if you don’t say a word. he’ll hold your hand even if it’s sweaty and trembling. and when your anxiety hits so hard you tell him “i feel like im dying,” Stan immediately lets you know that he is physically close and that you are still breathing. he will never let you go anywhere. “okay baby. but you’re not, alright? you’re here. you’re breathing. feel my hand? you’re here with me.” as he rubs your back. rough man, soft touches.

+ says things like “aw, baby, i hate that your brain’s doing this to you” and “i swear if i could pull the fear outta you with my bare hands, i would”

he always softens. instantly. and i think he’d hold you from behind, on the couch, wrapping his arms tight around your waist, cheek on your shoulder, and he’d mutter, “you’re gonna be okay. i swear. if anything was wrong, i’d be the first one callin’ every doc in the damn state. but you’re gonna be fine.” he’s so fiercely protective. if he sees you worried, he’d offer to go to appointments with you, hold your hand in waiting rooms even if he’s anxious himself. if you need someone to google things for you to make sure it’s not terrifying, he’ll do it, but also shove the phone under a pillow when he knows it’s spiraling you more.

and if you do cry because of overthinking, he always cradles you, resting his chin on your head, muttering, “there we go. cry it out, my anxious human.” he likes it when his partner trusts him. it makes him feel special. and later, when you’re exhausted and puffy-eyed and apologizing, he just goes, “don’t apologize to me for being alive, babe.” Stanley sees it, all of it, especially how hard you’re trying, and he loves you even more for it.

he’s the one who sits beside you with every medical report or doctor’s note and calmly explains it to walk you through it so it doesn’t feel that terrifying. he knows what it’s like to have a mind that runs too fast, so he never dismisses your anxiety. he always grounds you. “what we’re feeling isn’t always the truth, but i promise ill help you find the truth. we'll face it together. you’re not alone in this.” and you’re not, because if you ever hint that something worries you, he’ll spend hours researching credible sources, will write notes to ask doctors, will do everything in his power to prove to your heart that it’s safe inside your chest.

we all know Ford is such a deeply logical man, but when it comes to you that logic turns into the most tender, patient care you can imagine.

and if that fails, it’s 3am and you’re crying in the bathroom and can’t stop checking yourself, he’ll sit on the tile floor with you, cup your face, and remind, “you are not dying, my love. you’re alive. you’re here, safe. and i love you. so much. so much it scares me, and im not going anywhere.”

if your breathing gets fast, he’ll do his own breathing in sync with you. “match me. in. . . out. . .just like that. there’s no rush. we’re not in danger.”

sometimes he really hates how helpless it makes him feel when he sees you suffering from anxiety. he’s so used to solving things, but your fear isn’t smth he can outwit, and that makes him ache. but he tries, god, he tries so hard. he keeps notes about what calms you down. he researches every kind of calming exercise, keeps a journal of little things that helped soothe you, times it happened and what worked. he invents a tiny device you can hold in your palm, designed to reset your breathing. he brews herbal teas from ingredients he gathered in other dimensions, and he uses it to make a calming brew. it tastes like honey and it's so so so lovely. Ford doesn’t even tell you how rare the ingredients are, just gives you the mug and kisses your temple saying, “here. this one’s special. i made it for you, darling”

and later when the panic has passed he’ll read aloud from that book you never finished

and god forbid you ever apologize to him for being “too anxious” Ford will immediately shut that down with a single, “absolutely not.” then a kiss to your forehead. then another. and then “you are never too much. if anything, you’re more than i ever thought i deserved.”

[aleksatia]

🎉 5,000 Likes?! What the hell you guys 😭🖤

I’ve only been here for a few weeks, still learning what the hell a dashboard even is — and somehow you’ve already:

➤ read my emotional damage ➤ screamed in the tags ➤ and made me feel like I’m writing for real, breathing people

So THANK YOU. Sincerely. For reading, reblogging, crying, and making me feel like I’m not screaming into the void.

Your reactions charge me up like a caffeine IV drip — seriously, it’s wild how much your support inspires me. There will be a longer fic (yes, yes, a maxi-story is coming 👀) There will be regular drabbles and one-shots.

And I’d absolutely love to hear your ideas — little scenarios, unhinged headcanons, painful “what if”s — if you ever wondered how the LaDS would react to X, you know where to find me 😌

To celebrate — here’s a chaotic little selection of tags and reblog comments that now live rent-free in my brain:

💋 "Show Me, Don’t Tell Me, or How good are you in sex?"

#i literally could not breathe when i read zayne's #you write them all so well like you have their characters down SO well #absolutely fantastic i love it here #the sylus one is driving me up the WALL #IM BANGING THE WALLS OF MY ENCLOSURE #wish i was banging him instead #WHO SAID THAT??!!

💦 "All That Steam and Nowhere to Run"

#holy shiiiiit #laughing a little at Caleb b/c of the frantically doing pushups thing #Sylus walking right into the shower fully clothed and hungry tho??? oh baby

☕🚗💥 "Best Dad Ever: Maybe Not While I’m Driving??"

"Rafayel and Caleb oh they both have my heart. My unhinge hubbies" "insane lev is" "The dramatic reactions lol" "Zayne nearly lost it for a sec (perfectly reasonable reaction tho). I love him sm"

#bbg why are you acting like ur the one giving birth #yknow not that i mind but uh.....#maybe do the announcmeent when you arent in a moving vehicle 😂 #id be terrified to see my life flash before my eyes 5 x #rafs was SO ON POINT #ahhhhh ok i needed that laugh 😂😂😂😂😂

💥 “Six Days and One Heart Too Late”

"WHY IS XAVIER’S SO ANGSTY I AM FREAKING GRIEVING LIKE A WOMAN WHO LOST HER HUSBAND IN A WAR" "Ngl. Rafayel's part had me on a rollercoaster of emotions. God Angry sex les go" "THE RAFAYEL ONE IM CRYING OMG THESE WERE ALL SO GOOD😭😭😭😭😭" "This… THIS IS A MASTERPIECE!!!!!" "Zayne’s broke me heart just a little" "this hit different gosh😭" "OH YOU COOKED"

#xaviers one is so fire omfg thank u delicious angst #i think i need an extended version of sylus' man #AND ZAYNE'S COME ON #PAINFUL orz #the Xavier one especially like goddamn okay Mr Ice Prince #time to lay down #daaaaaamn #OMG THESE WERE SOOOOO GOOD ???? #literally kicking my feet and giggling ugh the TENSION #✨immaculate✨ #XAVIE BABY COME BACK WTF #this is a good one even if youre not a big lads person :) #XAVIER?!?!!NOOOOOOOOOOO #chefs kiss

💔🤫 "Xavier - Six Days of Silence"

"WAAAAAAAH IM CRYING THANK YO U SO MUCH THIS IS PERFECT 😭😭😭😭😭 THIS IS ABSOLUTELY PERFECT !!!"

#this has fueled my will to live thank u #you dont know how much i love this #seriously i’m in love #CRYING BAWLING SOBBING #XAVIERRR #this fucked me up dude #oh my god #XAVIERRRRR :( #whimpers #i LOVED this #this was so fucking good #obsessed #well and truly obsessed

💔🕯️🥀 "After You, There Was Nothing"

#screaming crying throwing upppppppp #MC NEEDS TO APOLOGIZE TO THESE MEN RIGHT NOW #I am heartbroken my gods #i swear everyone on my dash is dipping into the angst juice #DO YOU KNOW HOW WRECKED CALEB AND ZAYNE MADE ME #oh lord dont even get me started on sylus #he cant even look at music the same way anymore and he ADORES it 😭😭😭😭 #im dead #GOD it keeps getting worse and worse and worse and WORSE #GOD I LOVE THIS BUT I HATE IT SO MUCH #shattered my soul

[cokoweee]

OKAY.

Took me WAY too long to finally analyze this bad boy but I’m HERE NOW-

Let’s begin. ~

First off- THIS BACKGROUND.

Look at it. Just- LOOK AT IT. This seriously looks like a storyboard from a Disney movie, you wickedly talented person, you. The lights, shading, and perspective are all GORGEOUS.

Next.

We know that Donnie has a huge struggle with drinking ever since his family passed. Drunkenness is what helped him through that horrible time, thrusting himself into the inebriating arms of the liquid that helps him forget and live without feeling all the pain.

And yet- there’s this newest update. Here at an extravagant party, an event where you’re ENCOURAGED to overindulge on the drinks, Donnie has had about a sip. That’s all.

And here he’s actually thinking that he won’t finish it. A drink. In his hand. His old friend that has helped him through every night of his miserable life- he’s refusing completely on his own.

Donnie’s seriously grown so much. 🥹 Getting to know Kendra, having the device in his head removed, and truly FEELING emotions again have been helpful steps in his mental and emotional recovery.

And even how much he and Kendra have grown together- how he protects her and how she fights for him.

And here’s a nice little comparison- DONNIE is helping Kendra when SHE’s drunk. We’ve seen this before, but in reverse! Tello has always been the one in the inebriated pov, but here he’s helping and protecting Kendra.

And that’s just lovely to see. 💜

Even here, Donnie’s having a “spidey sense” moment looking out for Kendra. As well as AGAIN refusing a drink.

Character 👏 growth 👏 YESSSS

And now we get to this panel. And to an important question we’ve ALL been worrying about:

What happened to Kendra while Donnie and her were separated at Big Mamas?

I don’t know about you guys, but I was not convinced that everything was a-okay on Kendra’s end. After she emerged from the bathroom, she was acting strange. Like- not Kendra strange. Almost like she was drunk enough to be calm- but we didn’t see any alcohol- so hmmmmm???????

And then her and Donnie go on a flippin musical date-night montage trying on outfits for Big Mamas party. And AGAIN. Kendra is NOT acting like herself.

And Donnie catches this too, the panel before this one asking if Big Mama did something to Kendra.

And THIS is her reply-

Sooooo OKAY. 😦👌 Now we know that Kendra has most likely seen Big Mamas spider lady form. Fantastic. But what Kendra says AFTER is what’s really throwing me for a loop-

“She could literally peel me like a shrimp before I get the chance to scream.”

That… sounds like a threat from Big Mama. Just add a few “biddlidoos and bobsquinkles”…

So. WHAT. The FRICK HAPPENED.

Also… “watched her eat a bus-boy”

Eh SCUSEEEE ME?!?!?…..

*brain attempting to process information noises*

To add on to the mystery of what’s going on with Kendra- she says THIS.

Donnie’s ACTUAL name. Not “Othello” not “dummy” not “nerd”… she called him by his true name.

THAT AINT NORMAL.

And then- the biggest thing in this update that exploded my perception of time and space~

*brain fizzling and popping noises*

THIS IS ALL WRONG- THEY WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO- NOT NOW- AND KENDRAS MORE INEBRIATED THAN JACK SPARROW-

She doesn’t even know what that kiss just did to Donnie’s brain. (Nevermind his HEART). She probably won’t even remember it after that night-

AAAAA COKO HOW CAN THIS BE SO AMAZING and DEVASTATING at the same TIMEEEE??

(But seriously your story is amazing and I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for what happens next!!)

Okay I’m done. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

Drink water and when you can see what the sun looks like. ;)

~ Melissa

Thank FUCK the background was okay cause I struggle with that shit so much. Love seeing asks like these makes me all giggly kickin my feet n shit like a goof

Donnie’s finally in his “slightly better kinda” arc lol. Bout time innit? He’s been blended enough. Speaking of blenders I’ve been having Kendra in hers 🤓 and she ain’t done yet

Glad you liked the update tho! Actually a lot of yall did hot DAMN. I was planning to have atleast three this week but my backs killin me and I’m bein too slow.

[kysuguru]

two out of three. that’ll work — stsg x fem!reader

synopsis : gojo still doesn’t take to you, but in the throes of your eyes geto’s smile is prettier and shoko’s personality is much more welcoming. you’ll live.

all mine masterlist

includes / cw : nothing ^_^

a / n : i’m sooooo sooo so sorry for such a long wait, truly. i nitpick HELLA. and i want everyone to remember this book was made on a whim. an impulse book if u will. so even though i have concrete ideas and outlines for the main plots, i’m writing as i go while making my way there. I trashed this about three times before finally coming to a conclusion i was somewhat satisfied with. please enjoy

You lay awake, staring at the ceiling of your dorm absentmindedly. Your alarm has yet to ring. It’s presumably thirty minutes before you have to get up and prepare for the day. Your eyes are burning and it hurts to blink, your throat feels dry and scratchy; aching for its thirst to be quenched, and your body is exhausted beyond belief. Your brain craves rest more than anything, but you still aren’t able to succumb to that sweet sleep you crave. It’s been about 15 minutes already, you think. If the steadily rising sun is anything to go by. Time passes by fast when you need it to be slow. Maybe it’s the nerves. Or the fact that it wasn’t until midnight that you returned to your dorm.

Five hours of sleep was the minimum you could get, your brain didn’t let you rest long. But you figured you’d be alright. Whenever curses were near your house, one instance of one being in your bedroom, you remember not sleeping at all if not at least 30 minutes. You got in trouble that day and scolded by your mother for sleeping in class.

As of now, your eyes are droopy and red and your body feels cramped. But the accomplishment you feel after understanding more of this foreign world of curses overrode your exhaustion. You’re not sure if you feel that same sentiment now though. You cursed your past self for putting you through such strain. Your thirst for knowledge occasionally brought you one step forward and two steps back. Being all knowing was the only way you felt significant.

As of the moment, it was one of those instances where your yearning hurt more than it nourished. Though, it was all really fascinating. Cursed energy, cursed techniques, and how they worked and came to be, there wasn’t a second you could bring yourself to put the books down. To believe the negative emotions of people fester into those horrid creatures…

It’s no wonder they were around every single corner of your school.

You’re embarrassed to say you still have no idea what your technique is, or the innate technique you were born with — or if you had an innate technique for that matter. From what you know being born with an innate technique isn’t all that likely. They manifest from ages 4-6 yet no matter how much you shuffled through your memories to see if there were any instances where you were forced to use your technique, you’re left with nothing. Maybe you did and just don’t know or don’t remember — that’s the most irritating part. You grip your hair slightly, eyes burning into the white of your walls.

There are bags forming under your eyes, you think. It hurts a bit to blink, since you got accustomed to keeping them open while flipping through books, the intrigue not allowing you to divert your attention from the pages for even a second. But to you, it was worth it. One more step to learning about this and making your way back home. To where your mother was (hopefully) missing you just as much as you do her. Maybe you should get up and attempt to cover up the evidence of your lack of sleep.

You turn to lay on your side, staring at your open palm. If you look close enough you can see a faint scar. You clench your fist closed, blinking groggily. Your breathing starts to get steadier as you stare at your knuckles, your eyes feel as if weights are pulling them down, your mind wanders to random things you don’t remember thinking about a millisecond later.

Before you know it, you’re falling asleep.

Though the three seconds of bliss was nice while it lasted, before the familiar obnoxious beep of your alarm clock rang through your ears.

You sigh. You should’ve expected that. Your mind slipped once you woke and you forgot to turn that damned thing off. Though maybe that mistake was a blessing, being late to your first day of class would be a horrible first impression. Or would it be second..?

Now you stand in the mirror and eye your uniform with intense uncertainty. You have an inkling that you look stupid. So you tug your skirt down a little bit. Ok, now you look 12. You pull up the hem.

…

Maybe you should add stockings.

The addition is better, you deduce. You’re content with this. You smile at your reflection, speaking encouraging words to yourself internally. You feel your body shake a bit at the idea of entering the classroom, the thought of four pairs of eyes glued to your form, but your body relaxes slightly at the memory of Shoko. She called you her friend, whether or not it was genuine, you’ll take what you can get. There is no point in being greedy and craving for what you don’t have — or deserve.

You lift your leg and adjust the back of your shoe to fit over the sole of your feet properly. You huff in satisfaction, standing straight and adjusting whatever you could before heading out.

Wait. Do you need supplies? Shit, now you’re nervous all over again.

Wait, wait, wait. If you needed supplies, you would’ve been informed earlier, so if required, Yaga should be obligated to give you what you don’t have.

…That’s unless he did mention it and you just weren’t listening.

Your back is against your dorm room door as you grip your head in agony. Maybe you should just tell Yaga you got the one-day flu and figure it all out tomorrow.

“Yo. You look like an idiot doing that.”

The voice is familiar, but not familiar in the way you’d like. He was no Geto, and he definitely wasn’t Shoko. You look up, eyes watery, and meet Gojo’s gaze.

“You going through something? Wait, don't answer that, I don’t wanna know,” He says, waving his hand obnoxiously, his lips downturned. “Hate to interrupt whatever’s goin’ on, but class is in thirty minutes. If you’re anything like Suguru you’re an early bird, right?”

“Oh.. sort of,” You respond, trying to discreetly wipe whatever tears that might’ve formed. He watches you do it anyway, following your movements closely. You’re a little humiliated now. He probably thinks you’re pathetic.

His stare is unrelenting, you can feel it even behind those pitch black lenses. It burns into you. Through you. You drop his gaze, eyes on the floor as you shuffle your feet.

Did he need anything else? You’re grateful he let you know when class begins, but you two aren’t exactly best friends, and you're positive this is awkward for the both of you.

But you see his shoes from your peripheral view and they stay rooted to the floor. You hold back a shaky sigh.

“Are you heading to class right now?” You ask in hopes to get rid of the suffocating silence. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to starting conversations. Your eyes are still memorizing every dirt particle on your new shoes (which feel odd to wear, you’re so used to staring anxiously at the ones your mother gifted you a year or two ago). Why did he, out of all people, approach you during your crisis? You wished more than anything that it was Shoko, but from what you know about her alone, you’re more sure than ever that she doesn’t go to class early.

“I don’t usually go early, that’s Suguru’s thing. But I guess todays an exception.” You blink, he has a lot to say. You expected a short, clipped answer. “Anyways what’re you doing out here, and what was with the gripping your head thing? Going through a phase?” He asks a barrage of questions, making sure to push his glasses up in case they slipped a smidge. You seemed perceptive, he didn’t need you staring him down and reading him.

“Oh, I was nervous. That’s all.”

Gojo nods, staring at you for a few seconds longer before his feet finally pick up from their spot on the floor. He’s walking off.

“Wait!” Your heartbeat spikes as the exclamation leaves your lips.

His shoes squeak against the tiles as he halts. He doesn’t turn towards you, but the fact that he stopped let you know he heard you. You don’t know why your heart is beating so loud, you’re only asking a simple question.

“Do we need any particular supplies for class, by any chance?” Your voice rises a pitch, and you fiddle with your skirt, positive you’re coming off as annoying.

“We take notes every now and then, by we I don’t mean me, so a notebook would be nice but isn’t required, and you don’t look like you have one with you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, finally facing you, “Let’s hope you have a good memory. Sensei likes to run his mouth.” He jabs, most likely to see you panic. It works.

Your eyes widen and you bite your lip, fiddling with your skirt, but you’re shocked once you hear Gojo laugh. He throws his head back and you stare a bit. You’re gonna admit, you expected it to be a little more rough and loud. It sounds a bit odd, but it’s kinda funny to listen to, almost enough to make you laugh along. Now the question that’s been sitting on your tongue has the sudden urge to come forward.

Your mouth moves before your mind processes, “Can I walk to class with you?”

“Huh?”

You screwed up, you didn’t mean to ask that — I mean you did. But with his response you’re kind of regretting it now. “Sorry. It’s just I don’t remember the way, and if you’re on your way there I thought maybe I can tag along. Though, it’s okay if you say no.” You wave your hands frantically, trying your best to salvage whatever dignity you have left. You instantly start playing with your nails, looking down at your shoes.

He’s silent for a moment, as if contemplating. Then he sighs.

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

You beam, thankful.

“I promise not to be annoying.”

“You’re already being annoying by saying that.”

“Sorry!”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry. Oh wait uh..”

“…”

He scoffs before walking forward. You sprint a bit to catch up with his pace. He has really long legs. You stare at his side profile as he walks, if he notices your eyes, he doesn’t say anything. But you catch the twitch of his brow. You watch every movement you catch on his features intently, dead set on getting to know him more. You wonder if your gaze feels as burning as his does on you. As if he knows you inside out.

You were never aware of your staring problem until now.

Gojo is struggling himself. Trying not to meet your gaze. It proves to be difficult, for he wants to glare you down and watch you squirm nervously before you finally break eye contact. He hates how bare he feels when you stare.

“Gojo, what’s your inherited technique?”

“Infinity,” he pops a sucker into his mouth, uninterested. But you ignore that, eyes wide as you gasp in awe, intrigued.

“Can you explain that to me?”

Gojo catches sight of your expecting face, how your eyes glittered as your lips part. He can’t help the stroke of his ego. He quickly became smug.

“I have the ability to manipulate and distort space.” His glasses slip a smidge down the bridge of his nose, you can see a sliver of his eyes. He doesn’t push them up like you expect him to, he tends to do that — from what you’ve noticed — and they’re glowing. “Hold out your hand,” he demands, long fingers splayed out in your face.

You reach up and before you can press your fingertips against his palm, a barrier is manifested between the two of you. “Woah, there’s like.. a wall between us.”

“It’s infinity.”

You look up at him, even more in awe, “So it’s science, right? That makes it easy to explain then, huh? I thought it was way more complicated than that.” You’re too engrossed in repeatedly retracting your hand and pressing it back against this “barrier” to notice how Gojo’s expression shifts.

He pulls his hand back as if he’d been burnt and you blink, swiftly putting your own hand back by your side. A frown plagues your lips. You figure you did get a bit carried away, it was really nice to see a cursed technique at play for the first time ever. And you’re glad it was something as magnificent as that. You got excited, forgetting boundaries.

Before you can express your gratitude and apologize, Gojo is striding off once more. You notice this time he’s walking a bit faster, as if he intends on leaving you behind. Your brows knit as you sigh. You don’t jog up to him this time, letting the distance between you increase. You’re always taught not to be greedy. Occurrences like this coming into play to drill that in your head, yet you fail every time — constantly wanting more.

You enter the classroom a bit after Gojo, already seeing him with a big beam on his face as he rambles off with Geto. He’s mad at you again, you think. This is normal for you — people being upset with you. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. You try your hardest to pretend it doesn’t.

Shoko’s not here yet, unfortunately. You see two empty seats and assume the vacant one by Geto is Shoko’s, so you take the other seat. You aren’t sure what to do with this extra time, you shouldn’t have come so early, so you settle with fiddling with your fingers and looking out the window.

You hear Geto’s voice and you’re not sure if you’re being looked at, but you’re way too nervous to check, afraid that if you looked you’d be caught.

“Ogawa.”

It isn’t until a full minute later you realize that Geto was trying to get your attention the entire time. You finally look at him, the curiosity brimming in your chest and the urge to look back finally sated. His smile is kind and soft. He pats the empty seat beside him. “Why don’t you sit?”

You jolt.

“Isn’t that Shoko’s seat?” You point nervously, trying to find a way out of this. If conversation is what Geto is looking for, you’re the last person that can provide.

Gojo scoffs and you retreat into yourself, eyes averted.

You faintly hear Geto shove Gojo and tell him to shut up over the loud pounding of your heartbeat before he’s turning back to you, that same, already familiar smile plastered on his lips. “I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“You.. really want me to sit by you?” You ask, hopefully. You guess you still have yet to learn and expect disappointment. Geto nods, his smile getting brighter and you glow like the stars.

You stand meekly, shuffling into the seat as quietly as you could, cringing when the metal cried loudly against the tile floor. Geto huffs in satisfaction and your shoulders relax a bit. You wish Gojo weren’t here to stare the both of you down, you feel somewhat uncomfortable by his overwhelming presence. You have an inkling that disturbing you is his goal, for a small smirk paints his lips.

Geto’s voice is soft as he speaks to you. He’s asking you about yourself and you answer somewhat vaguely, unsure of how to go about talking to him. You stammer a bit, trying to find your words. You get a bit fidgety, afraid he might get irritated with you, but he’s as patient as ever, smiling as he awaits your answer. That’s when you relax completely, finding it easier to answer him in stride. You never knew Geto could be so easy to talk to. You’re starting to like him even more. It’s hard not to favor people who are nice to you. But you can’t get ahead of yourself. You have to learn to expect disappointment so you won’t be disappointed.

Gojo doesn’t say a word, staring at the two of you converse so easily. He doesn’t understand why Geto seems so interested in getting to know you. You’re boring, you don’t even know your technique for crying out loud. Weak people piss Gojo off.

Gojo walks by you as you hold your head in your hands, leaning against your dorm door. He’s confused, are you going through something? You look stupid, and he withholds the urge not to laugh at your expense. If Geto were here he’d definitely scold him. He thinks of that and the nagging Geto would put him through. He rolls his eyes and decides to approach.

“Yo. You look like an idiot doing that.”

Well he didn’t actually mean for it to come across that way, but sometimes his mouth likes to run before his brain liked to function.

You look up at him, tears brimming your lashes. The sight makes him sigh internally. If he knew you’d be crying he would’ve avoided you altogether. Comforting you is beyond his expertise. Well.. it’s not. He’d just rather not waste his time.

He asks if you were going through it. Another moment of his mouth moving before his brain. But you don’t seem to take offense, more like you just seem a bit embarrassed at being caught nearly crying.

“Hate to interrupt whatever’s goin’ on, but class is in thirty minutes. If you’re anything like Suguru you’re an early bird, right?”

You answer meekly, wiping your tears with your sleeve. He catches himself eyeing your attire behind his glasses. He’s staring at you and he’s positive you can tell, for your head tips towards the floor. You seem to be awaiting his departure, but he stays rooted to the floor, content on tormenting you this way.

“Are you heading to class right now?”

He never expected you to be the type to start a conversation, not with him especially. He noticed how uneasy you felt around him. But he cuts you some slack and answers.

“I don’t usually go early, that’s Suguru’s thing. But I guess todays an exception. Anyways what’re you doing out here, and what was with the gripping your head thing? Going through a phase?” He answers you and throws a barrage of questions coyly.

You blink. Gojo realizes how much left his mouth at once and pushes up his glasses. You come up with a sorry answer and Gojo decides he’s wasted enough time. If he got there now he could talk to Suguru about yesterday’s conversation with the higher ups before Yaga arrives. He starts to walk off, now considering the conversation boring.

Your voice interrupts his stride, you sound somewhat panicked and he contemplates hearing you out. You must’ve taken his stillness as a cue.

“Do we need any particular supplies for class, by any chance?”

You sound anxious, and he doesn’t even have to look to know you’re shuffling your feet.

“We take notes every now and then, by we I don’t mean me, so a notebook would be nice but isn’t required, and you don’t look like you have one with you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, and turns to face you. He was correct, this time you’re fiddling with your ridiculously long skirt.

“Let’s hope you have a good memory. Sensei likes to run his mouth.” The only entertaining thing about you is the expressions you make. And he isn’t disappointed with this one either. He doesn’t know why he finds your sorrow so comedic but this time he can’t hold back his laugh. If Geto knew about this or witnessed it, he’d definitely scold him, but Gojo doesn’t care at the moment, shoulders shaking as he cackled obnoxiously.

He sighs, wiping under his eyes, lifting his glasses a little. He thinks that’s enough for now, and prepares to walk off to class. But then you ask a question that makes him freeze, “Can I walk to class with you?”

“Huh?”

He raises a brow, he knows you can’t see it, but he’s looking at you as if you’re crazy.

You instantly wave your hands in panic, trying to explain yourself, he thinks your excuse is lame. “Sorry. It’s just I don’t remember the way, and if you’re on your way there I thought maybe I can tag along. Though, it’s okay if you say no.”

He’s extremely annoyed with you now, watching you fidget and shuffle about with a frown plaguing his lips. A rejection is already sitting on his tongue, ready to be fired, but he knows how disappointed Geto might be with him, so his shoulders drop.

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

He watches you instantly glow. You’re not smiling but he can tell you’re happy. It’s the first time he’s seeing an expression that isn’t filled with some type of despair on you. He thinks he prefers your anguish.

“I promise not to be annoying.”

He rolls his eyes, picking up his pace.

“You’re already being annoying by saying that.”

“Sorry!”

“Stop apologizing.”

You say sorry again and he scoffs to himself. Could you get any more annoying? He can hear your hurried footsteps as you try to match his stride, he feels a bit bad and slows down a bit, letting the two of you walk side by side. He did it to be nice, but it’s a decision he instantly regrets. Did your parents ever teach you that staring was impolite? The burning of your eyes against the side of his face pisses him off. But he tries his hardest not to show his anger on his face because of your intense stare.

He can’t help the twitch of his facade and he thinks you noticed. He’s resisting the urge to meet your stare, glare you down and watch you shuffle like you usually do. He craves to make you uncomfortable and show you who’s really stronger between the two of you. He really can’t comprehend where these hostile emotions are coming from but he also doesn’t care to dig deep and figure it out. It’ll come to him eventually. So for now he’ll get a bit excited as you ask about his cursed technique, jumping at the opportunity to show you how strong he is.

You’re in awe and his ego instantly skyrockets. You press your hand against his infinity over and over again, an intrigued gleam in your eyes as your lips part in a gasp.

“So it’s science, right? That makes it easy to explain then, huh? I thought it was way more complicated than that.”

For some reason that makes him irritated. “Easy to explain.” Funny coming from someone who had no idea what cursed techniques were barely twenty-four hours before. He pulls his hand away from you, as if he was burnt and instantly walks off. He thanks his long legs and their advantage to gain distance from you.

He resists the urge to turn and see your expression.

He originally did it all with Geto in mind; mulling over how he would feel if he’d left you deserted in that hallway, nervous eyes and shaky hands as you tried to find your way. Curse Geto for being such a heavy influence on him, because now he wished he’d never encountered you. Gojo considers his day already ruined before it barely started.

Now he sits and watches you converse with his best friend as if he was your best friend. Geto was always the friendly, welcoming type, so he can’t fathom why it irks him so. But it has to be your fault somehow, so until he figures that out he decides to brood in silence, arms crossed.

Shoko enters and your attention is instantly diverted. One of the many times Gojo is grateful for her existence. You were more comfortable with her than the other two. Probably a girls thing. Gojo didn’t care to understand. He instantly decided anything that had something to do with you would be ignored to the best of his abilities.

You greet Shoko in a quiet voice, as if cautious, and instantly brighten when she sends you a soft smile and a greeting in return. She points to her spot and looks at Geto inquisitively, hovering behind you. He just shrugs with a sheepish smile. So she simply sits and scoots her chair closer to you, waving her hand in a shooing motion towards Geto, “It’s my turn to hog her, your boyfriend looks upset, go comfort him.”

Geto’s head whips towards Gojo instantly, seeing his pouty expression with his arms crossed. He sighs in exasperation, a fond smile painting his lips.

You watch the two of them for a second or more before looking at Shoko. You didn’t know they were dating..

Shoko chuckles, and speaks up as if she read your mind, “They’re not actually dating. Yet, anyways. They love dancing in circles around each other. It’s irritating to witness. Utahime is a grade above me so unfortunately she doesn’t suffer through it as much as me.” She nudges you, her eyes crinkling as her smile stretches a bit wider, “You’re here with me now though, so we can suffer it together, kay?”

You nod eagerly, as if it was meant to be a good thing. Suffering anything is manageable if someone as kind as Shoko is there with you. You need to get her a gift for her kindness. Such a wonderful girl!

Yaga enters the room about twenty minutes later. Shoko lets you borrow a notebook of hers and you instantly get to jotting things down. You’re a bit surprised when you notice how mundane these subjects are. But it makes sense, you’re all still teenagers after all. You’d probably see it as inhumane if all this school taught to their students was jujutsu. No matter the importance of sorcerers and preserving the lives of non-sorcerers, it was always good to live life at least a little normally, to you anyways.

Time passed with you trying to avoid answering questions as much as possible. Even though you hated doing it, you also couldn’t help it. Whenever Yaga looked your way your eyes flew to your paper and you instantly got to acting busy to avoid getting picked on. Plus, it wasn’t like you needed to… Geto was there to answer every question smoothly for the rest of you, so there was no need, right?

Though you suppose it wasn’t evadable forever.

“[Name], can you answer this one?”

You jolt, looking up from your paper where you were “writing” (you just hovered the pen over the paper and moved it about). It was an easy algebra question, so you answered it with ease, albeit quietly. Yaga hummed in approval and moved on. It wasn’t all that bad, you recognize, but the attention is still unnerving.

Shoko nudges your side, “I got a smart girl on my radar it looks like,” she whispers. “You’ll let me copy your notes, right?” She jokes.

You nod instantly, the premise of the joke flying straight over your head. If it’ll keep her around you’ll write her as many notes as need be, you thought. It was the least you could do to repay her kindness!

She giggles quietly, and her laugh was instantly a melody you became enamored with. “I was joking, don’t worry. But you seem smart, born a genius like a certain someone, I presume?” She says coyly and her eyes drift to a particular person one seat down. You force your eyes not to drift in the direction of her finger.

“I usually study in my free time,” You shut down her assumption, you were nowhere near born a genius. “Guess you can say it’s a hobby of mine,” you shrug, whispering alongside her. It was nice, it felt like the two of you were sharing secrets.

“A hobby?” She laughs, shocked and intrigued. “You get more odd by the second.”

Your expression shifts, something she doesn’t hesitate to spot. She lays a hand on your shoulder and rubs it assuringly as she whispers, “No sweat, it’s a good thing. To me, at least. I don’t think I’d be friends with those two idiots otherwise.”

Your face relaxes and she smiles.

“Shoko,” you suddenly speak, surprising the both of you — you the most. Her eyes flit to your own and she sits, awaiting. “Do you like sweet things?” You ask, cupping your hand around your mouth as if that’ll make you any quieter.

Shoko entertains you with a grin and replicates you, hand cupped around her mouth as she leans close to whisper. Her eyes drift over you — if checking you out, something that escapes your notice — before she answers, “I love sweet stuff.”

You seem satisfied with her answer so she shifts her attention back to her notebook. Yaga turns around and her eyes flit between her notes and the board, pretending to be immersed. Though you don’t think she has anyone fooled. You glance at her for a moment more before you do the same and settle for doodling on the empty parts of your notes. Small doodles of Shoko and Geto holding gifts with big smiles on their faces. You subconsciously grin into your hand. You have no clue what either of them prefer but the thought is nice… Maybe you can ask later. Hopefully Geto will have a moment where Gojo isn’t hanging off of him.

You discreetly shuffle your position so you feel comfortable enough to gaze at him. He looks extremely focused, brows slightly furrowed as he taps his pen lightly against the desk, as if afraid to disturb the silent classroom. Your eyes drift a bit to catch a glimpse of his counterpart. A scoff of bewilderment almost involuntarily leaves your lips at the sight of Gojo simply trying to balance a pencil between his nose and the peak of his lip. Even though you have a sudden urge to call him out on his stupidity, this is actually the perfect opportunity to ask what you wanted from Geto without his leering glare, he seems distracted enough.

Yaga is turned towards the board too, voice booming loud enough that if you whispered, he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the sound of himself. It’s insane that you feel so nervous, as if speaking to a classmate during teaching is some sort of crime. But you recall the small doodle of him smiling happily with his gift and persevere.

A small, soft tap breaks Geto out of his reverie. His eyes blink in surprise before his gaze lands on you and your meek, almost guilty expression.

“Do you like sweet stuff?” Your soft voice whispers and he almost laughs aloud. You’re a horrible whisperer, and you’re both extremely lucky that Yaga’s voice echoes, for no one hears you.

He ponders your question for a moment, eyes drifting around your face before they settle back on your eyes. He’s grinning as he says, “Yeah. I like sweet stuff.”

Your visage glows with hope as you turn back to your paper, beaming. Geto’s smile becomes soft.

Brownies it is.

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[teddybeartoji]

mickeyyyyy *smiles too wide* i would love to hear ur thoughts about snow leopard hybrid!gojo if ur up for it,,,the words themselves just itched something in my brain

MOSS<333333333 i love ur smile btw I AM KINDA NEW TO HYBRIDS OKAY BUT THIS ONE IS JUST SOOOOOOO MMMMMMM also wait here is the twt art that made me lose it (everybody say thank u logan we love u logan for showing it to me) AAAAAAAAAAA IT'S SOOO FUCKING GOOOOOD HE LOOKS SOSO PERFCECT it suits him so well my brain is all mushy already

geto locking him out bc he purred too loudly fuuuuuuuuckkkkkkk he's so cute i want him. like he'd be sooooo clingy right?????? always trying to settle down in your lap always trying to get you to pet him to scratch his ears and he ALWAYSSS PURRS SOOOO LOUDLYY although i would never lock him out sugu is weak for that smh... i think he'd kind of like it when you played with his tail too?? usually felines don't like that too much but since it's you - he loves that shit. he likes to twirl it around your arm and his eyes go so big whenever that makes you laugh GOOD GODDDDDDDD look this is a full on ramble i hope something makes sense too i'm sorry for that i just🥴🥴🥴

oh my god he probably waits for you by the door when you come home, biting down on his tail just like in the picture?????? i'm kinda torn between whether he'd be good while you're gone or would he act up bc i mean it's satoru. the ultimate brat. so maybe he does scratch the couch a little or something? to show how upset he is over you leaving him at home:(((( you can't stay mad either bc c'mon look at him:((((((((((((((((((((((( god i wanna pet him sm

he probably likes to take care of you in his own way too right? like groom you? is that the word? he'd want to lick you, clean you, make sure you're all relaxed and feeling good after a long day. he's such a good boy:(((( he loves you:((((((((

oh and obviously he's super fucking clingy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i mean that's canon for him anyway but now even more. he always wants to drape himself in your lap, his tail curling around you like i said before too. please scratch his ears please please please:((( when you're trying to cook he's glued to your side, nuzzling into your skin - whether it's into your neck or just your back, he just wants to be close to you:(((

he also likes to nip at your skin!!!! there have been a few times where he bites down just a tad bit too hard and it drew blood but it was an accident!!!! he never wants to hurt you he felt so bad after that:(( went at sat in the corner with his tail between his legs:(((((( but you of course forgive him and coax him back to you with some belly rubs

after that he learned how to be more gentle, though. so now he often just fakes biting you just to hear you laugh or playfully scold him. when he does sink his teeth in - maybe your arm or your thigh; he always keeps eye-contact.

when you're just lazing around - reading a book, playing a video game - he's always next to you. always. maybe every once in a while he decides to take a nap, belly up, paws kind of folded and oh, he looks adorable like that. he's just a big kitty okay. btw he's always touching you. clingyclingyclingy. even when he's sleeping, he has to be touching you in some way.

SUGGESTIVE! gets upset when you come home and you have other smells on you. especially other mens' smells. maybe your co-worker hugged you goodbye or something and now his cologne sticks to your skin and satoru can't have that. he's just immediately pawing at you - begging for your attention and when you grant him that, he's jumping on you, pushing you down and licking over whereever the stench is. after he deems you clean, he just rubs himself against you - his way of marking you. you don't know that though... you just think he really missed you...... mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

can hybrids go into heat............................? LOOK I'M NEW HERE OKAY I NEED TO LEARN. if they do.............. if he does............ oh boy... you need to get something to surpress those bc he will lose it. he's humping your bed, he's humping your pillow, he's sniffing your clothes. your underwear. sometimes he's pawing at your dresser, looking for more clothes but mostly his target is the dirty laundry basket....................................... everything goes when you're out....... he's gonna make a big big mess..............................................🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴 ok i think i need to stop myself here otherwise i'll really lose it........................

moss i need to hear your thoughts on this. NEEEED TO HEAR THEM. DESPERATELY NEED TO. if u know about hybrids u can teach me. i'm..... in it now......................... heheheheheh this was so fun i'm sorry it took a min love but yeah i can't wait to hear your ideas aaaaaaaaaa I LOVE YOIUUUU I HOPE YOU HAD A GOOD DAY MY BELOVED<3333