#stream jogging

[fist-of-vengeance]

hey. can people please stop parroting "stan only regained his memory because it's a disney show" like it's an objective fact and somehow a storytelling flaw? because that's reductionist and straight up untrue. stan regaining his memory is not a random deus ex machina, it's clearly established earlier in the season that the memory gun isn't permanent via mcgucket's storyline. as soon as mcgucket watches the tapes in society of the blind eye, he begins to gradually heal and regain his memories. it makes perfect sense that mabel's scrapbook (and in journal three, stan and ford's old home movies) would function the same way for stan.

realistically, stan probably wouldn't have remembered his entire life in the span of a week, but his recovery is obviously being condensed for the sake of pacing. there's a ton of awesome fanworks based on the idea that he's still recovering new memories long after the end of the show, particularly from the darkest period of his life when he was homeless and estranged from his family. but that's not relevant to the finale. what matters for the show's purposes is that stan remembers the events of the past summer, so that his goodbye with dipper and mabel at the end of the episode holds dramatic weight. because THAT'S HOW YOU WRITE A STORY.

[thefabelmans2022]

want to rewatch dps but afraid it will bring up Emotions and perhaps even Thoughts that i don't want to feel and think.

[gracelandmp3]

am i losing it or does anybody else rmr a bit from one of the waypoint streams where austin was like yeah one time i got lunch with harris bomber guy he picked my brain abt dark souls 2 for an hour and a half and then basically every single thing i told him ended up in his ds2 vid

[ruthstruths]

oh yeah I listen to all my music on jog.fm

[pucksandpower]

Little Star

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Summary: you’ve grown used to being overshadowed by your older brother, merely a distant star that seems dull in comparison to the sun of Maranello … and then Max happens

Based on this request

The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the paddock of the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. The air still buzzes with excitement from the day’s race, but behind the Ferrari hospitality unit, a different energy permeates the air.

You lean against the cool metal wall, sliding down until you’re sitting on the concrete, knees pulled to your chest. Tears stream silently down your face as you struggle to catch your breath between sobs. The sounds of celebration echo in the distance, a stark contrast to your solitude.

Footsteps approach, and you hastily wipe at your eyes, hoping to erase any evidence of your breakdown. A familiar figure rounds the corner, stopping short when he spots you.

“Hey,” Max Verstappen says, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you alright?”

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you insist, your voice wavering slightly. “Just ... needed some air.”

Max doesn’t buy it for a second. He crouches down beside you, his blue eyes searching your face. “You don’t look fine,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lip, debating whether to confide in him. After a moment, you sigh. “It’s stupid,” you mumble.

“If it’s making you cry, it’s not stupid,” Max counters. He settles down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Come on, talk to me.”

You take a shaky breath. “It’s my birthday,” you admit quietly.

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Today? Why aren’t you celebrating?”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Because everyone forgot,” you explain, fresh tears welling up. “Charles won the race, and ... I’m happy for him, I really am. But it’s like I don’t even exist when he’s around, you know?”

Max nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “That must be really tough,” he says softly.

You nod, sniffling. “I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, but today ... it just hit me harder, I guess. Even my mom forgot.”

“That’s not okay,” Max says firmly. “Your birthday should be special, no matter what else is happening.”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your jeans. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“No, it’s not fine,” Max insists. He stands up suddenly, determination etched on his face. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Before you can protest, he’s gone, jogging away towards the paddock. You’re left alone again, wondering what he’s up to.

True to his word, Max returns a few minutes later, slightly out of breath and holding something behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he instructs with a grin.

Curious, you comply. There’s a rustling sound, and then Max’s voice rings out, clear and slightly off-key: “Happy birthday to you ...”

Your eyes fly open in surprise. Max stands before you, holding a small cupcake with a single candle stuck in the frosting. His face is illuminated by the flickering flame as he continues to sing.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Y/N, happy birthday to you!”

Emotion wells up in your chest, a lump forming in your throat. “Max,” you whisper, overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He crouches down, carefully balancing the cupcake. “Of course I did,” he says softly. “Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. Now make a wish and blow out your candle.”

You close your eyes, thinking for a moment before leaning forward to extinguish the tiny flame. When you open them again, Max is beaming at you.

“What did you wish for?” He asks, settling back down beside you and offering you the cupcake.

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

Max laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Fair enough. So, twenty-two, huh? How does it feel to be so old?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help chuckling. “Says the guy who’s practically ancient at twenty-six.”

“Hey!” Max protests, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m in my prime.”

The banter feels natural, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time all day. You take a bite of the cupcake, savoring the sweetness. “This is really good,” you mumble around a mouthful of frosting. “Where did you even find it?”

Max grins mischievously. “I have my sources. Can’t reveal all my secrets, can I?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Thank you, Max. Really. This ... it means a lot.”

His expression softens. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry the rest of your family forgot. That’s not fair to you.”

You sigh, your momentary happiness fading slightly. “It’s not their fault. Charles had a big win today, and-”

“Stop,” Max interrupts gently. “You don’t have to make excuses for them. Your feelings are valid.”

You blink, surprised by his directness. “I ... I guess I’m just used to it,” you admit. “It’s always been about Charles. Even before he got into F1, he was the golden child. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes ...”

“Sometimes you want to be seen too,” Max finishes for you. You nod, grateful that he understands.

“Exactly. And it’s not just Charles. Arthur’s always been following in his footsteps, and Lorenzo ... well, he’s the oldest. I’m just ... there.”

Max frowns. “That’s not true. You’re your own person, with your own talents and dreams. Have you talked to them about how you feel?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to make them feel bad. Especially Charles. He works so hard, and he deserves his success.”

“His success doesn’t diminish your worth,” Max says firmly. “You deserve to be celebrated too.”

Tears prick at your eyes again, but for a different reason this time. “Thank you,” you whisper. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite like that before.”

Max smiles softly. “Well, it’s true. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks. “You barely know me,” you point out.

“I know enough,” Max counters. “I know you’re kind enough to put your family’s happiness before your own. I know you’re strong enough to handle being overlooked without becoming bitter. And I know you’ve got a great taste in cupcakes.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “Well, when you put it like that ...”

Max grins, clearly pleased to have made you smile. “So, birthday girl, what do you want to do now? The night is young, and I happen to know where they keep the good champagne around here.”

You hesitate, glancing towards the paddock where you can still hear the sounds of celebration. “I don’t know ... I should probably go find my family.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “On your birthday? Come on, live a little. They can wait.”

A spark of rebellion ignites in your chest. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it.”

Max jumps to his feet, offering you his hand. “That’s the spirit! First stop, champagne. Then, who knows? Maybe we’ll steal a golf cart and go joyriding around the track.”

You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Is that even allowed?”

Max’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Probably not. But it’s your birthday, so I think we can bend the rules a little.”

As you follow Max towards the paddock, a warmth spreads through your chest that has nothing to do with the lingering summer heat. For the first time in years, you feel seen. Appreciated. Special.

“Hey, Max?” You say, causing him to pause and look back at you.

“Yeah?”

You smile, genuine and bright. “Thank you. For everything.”

Max’s expression softens. “Anytime,” he says softly. “Now come on, birthday girl. Let’s make this a night to remember.”

As you walk side by side into the fading light, you can’t help but feel that this birthday might just be the start of something new. Something exciting. Something uniquely yours.

And for once, you’re not thinking about Charles, or Arthur, or anyone else. You’re just thinking about you, and the possibilities that stretch out before you like an open road.

Happy birthday indeed.

***

The Ferrari hospitality suite thrums with energy, laughter and music spilling out into the warm Italian night. Charles Leclerc stands at the center of it all, a wide grin plastered across his face as he basks in the glow of his hard-fought victory. Champagne flows freely, and the air is thick with the scent of celebration.

“To Charles!” Someone shouts, raising a glass. The room erupts in cheers, and Charles feels a swell of pride in his chest.

“Speech! Speech!” The crowd chants, and Charles laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, clearing his throat. “I just want to say thank you to everyone here. This win ... it’s not just mine. It’s ours. The team, the mechanics, the engineers, the strategists ... we did this together.”

More cheers erupt, and Charles feels a hand clap him on the back. He turns to see his teammate grinning broadly.

“Well said, amigo,” Carlos says, slinging an arm around Charles’ shoulders. “You drove like a champion today.”

Charles beams, the praise from his teammate adding to the euphoria of the moment. “Thanks, Carlos. Couldn’t have done it without you pushing me.”

Carlos laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “Always happy to provide motivation. Oh, hey, before I forget — can you pass on my birthday wishes to Y/N? I meant to find her earlier, but things got a bit crazy.”

The words hit Charles like a bucket of ice water. His smile freezes, his eyes widening in horror. “W-what?” He stammers, hoping he’s misheard.

Carlos frowns, noticing the sudden change in Charles’ demeanor. “Your sister? It’s her birthday today, right? Her 22nd?”

Charles feels the room spin around him. How could he have forgotten? His little sister’s birthday, on the same day as his big win. The realization crashes over him in waves of guilt and shame.

“Charles?” Carlos prompts, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, mate?”

Charles shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of shock. “I ... I forgot,” he whispers, more to himself than to Carlos. “How could I forget?”

Carlos’ eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, shit,” he mutters. “You didn’t remember?”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, panic rising in his chest. “I was so focused on the race, and then the win ... God, I’m such an idiot.”

He scans the room frantically, hoping against hope that he’ll spot you among the partygoers. But of course, you’re not there. Why would you be, when your own family forgot your birthday?

“I need to find her,” Charles says, already moving towards the exit. “I need to apologize.”

Carlos nods, squeezing Charles’ shoulder supportively. “Go. I’ll cover for you here if anyone asks.”

Charles barely hears him, his mind racing as he pushes through the crowd. He bursts out of the hospitality suite, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy interior.

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice echoing in the near-empty paddock. But there’s no response.

Panic rising, Charles pulls out his phone, fumbling with the screen as he opens his contacts. He hits your name, holding the phone to his ear as it rings.

Once. Twice. Three times. Then, your voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”

Charles swears under his breath, ending the call. He tries again, and again, but each time it goes straight to voicemail.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters, pacing back and forth. Where could you be? Who would you have gone to when your family let you down?

A thought strikes him, and he quickly dials another number.

“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.

“Arthur!” Charles practically shouts. “Is Y/N with you?”

There’s a pause, then confusion in Arthur’s tone. “No? Why would she be? Aren’t you guys celebrating?”

Charles feels his heart sink even further. “Arthur, it’s her birthday. We forgot.”

“Shit,” Arthur breathes. “How did we ... God, we’re terrible brothers.”

“I know, I know,” Charles says, the guilt eating away at him. “I’m trying to find her now. Can you call Maman and Lorenzo, see if they’ve heard from her?”

“Yeah, of course,” Arthur agrees quickly. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”

Charles ends the call, his mind whirling. Where else could you be? He tries to think back to earlier in the day, wondering if he’d seen you at all after the race. But everything is a blur of champagne and celebration, and he realizes with a sickening jolt that he can’t remember the last time he actually spoke to you.

He’s about to start knocking on motorhome doors when another idea strikes him. Quickly, he opens the Life360 app on his phone. The family had started using it a few years back, mainly to keep track of each other during race weekends.

Charles waits impatiently for the app to load, praying that it will show your location. But when the map finally appears, his heart sinks. Your icon is greyed out, with a message underneath: “Location permissions turned off.”

“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, refreshing the app desperately. But the result is the same. You’ve deliberately turned off your location tracking.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. You didn’t just disappear — you chose to be unfindable. And it’s all his fault.

Charles slumps against the nearest wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground. He puts his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his mistake.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers into the night. “I’m so, so sorry.”

As he sits there, memories flood his mind. Your proud smile when he won his first karting race. The way you’d curl up next to him during thunderstorms, seeking comfort. Your unwavering support through every step of his career, even when it meant less attention for you.

And how had he repaid that loyalty? By forgetting the one day that was supposed to be about you.

Charles’ phone buzzes, and he snatches it up eagerly. But it’s just a text from his mother:

Haven’t heard from Y/N. Is everything okay?

He stares at the message, unsure how to respond. How can he explain that he’s lost his little sister on her birthday?

Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:

No luck here either. What’s going on?

Charles takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He has to tell them the truth, no matter how much it hurts.

He creates a group chat with his mom, Lorenzo, and Arthur, his fingers shaking slightly as he types:

We forgot Y/N’s birthday. All of us. She’s not answering her phone and her location is turned off. I can’t find her anywhere.

The responses come in rapid succession:

Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?

Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?

Arthur: I’m on my way to the track now. We’ll find her.

Charles feels a mix of relief and shame. At least now everyone knows, and they can all work together to make things right. But the fact remains that they let you down in the first place.

He’s about to reply when he spots a familiar figure walking across the paddock. Max Verstappen, looking slightly disheveled and ... was that a touch of glitter on his cheek?

Without thinking, Charles jumps to his feet and runs over to his rival.

“Max!” He calls out, slightly out of breath. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Max turns, surprise evident on his face. Then, something else flickers in his eyes. Anger? Disappointment? It’s gone too quickly for Charles to be sure.

“Why?” Max asks, his tone cooler than usual. “Suddenly remembered she exists?”

The words sting, but Charles knows he deserves them. “Please, Max. I know I messed up. We all did. But I need to find her, to apologize.”

Max studies him for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he sighs. “She’s safe. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Relief washes over Charles, quickly followed by confusion. “You’ve seen her? Where is she?”

“I’m not telling you that,” Max says firmly. “She needed space, and after what happened, I don’t blame her.”

Charles feels a flare of frustration. “She’s my sister. I have a right to know where she is.”

“No,” Max counters, his blue eyes flashing. “You had a responsibility to remember her birthday. You didn’t. So now, you don’t get to demand anything.”

The words hit Charles like a slap. He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. Max is right, as much as it pains him to admit it.

“Is she ... is she okay?” Charles asks quietly, all fight leaving him.

Max’s expression softens slightly. “She will be. Eventually. But Charles, you really hurt her. All of you did.”

Charles nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I know. God, I know. I just want to make it right.”

“Then give her time,” Max advises. “And when she’s ready to talk, really listen to her. Don’t make excuses. Don’t try to justify it. Just listen.”

Charles nods again, feeling utterly defeated. “Will you ... will you tell her I’m sorry? That we’re all sorry?”

Max hesitates, then nods. “I will. But Charles? You need to do better. She deserves better.”

With that, Max turns and walks away, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and regrets.

Charles pulls out his phone again, looking at the group chat with his family. He types out a message, his heart heavy:

Y/N is safe. A friend is looking out for her. We need to give her space, but when she’s ready to talk, we all need to be there. Really be there. We’ve got a lot to make up for.

As he hits send, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll do better. He’ll be the brother you deserve. And somehow, someway, he’ll make this right.

But for now, all he can do is wait, and hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive them all.

***

The city lights twinkle below as Max leads you into his penthouse suite, the door clicking shut behind you. The space is modern and sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of Milan’s skyline.

“Make yourself at home,” Max says, gesturing around the room. “Are you hungry? I can order some room service if you want.”

You shake your head, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by the events of the day. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Max nods, studying your face with concern. “You sure? It’s been a long day.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that again.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Max clears his throat. “So, um, you can take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

“Oh, no,” you protest immediately. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Absolutely not. It’s your birthday. You get the bed.”

You bite your lip, an idea forming. “We could ... share? I mean, if that’s okay with you. The bed looks plenty big enough.”

Max’s eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure,” you say, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Unless it makes you uncomfortable?”

“No, no,” Max says quickly. “I’m fine with it if you are.”

You nod, and another silence falls. Max runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly unsure of himself.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he suggests. “Or we could just talk, if you prefer.”

“Talking sounds nice,” you admit. “I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”

Max nods, gesturing towards the bed. “Shall we?”

You both settle onto the massive king-size bed, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. It’s oddly intimate, and you feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“So,” Max begins, his blue eyes fixed on you. “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t related to racing or your family.”

You pause, caught off guard by the question. It’s been so long since someone asked about you, just you.

“Well,” you start hesitantly, “I’m actually studying to become an astrophysicist.”

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? That’s incredible! Why astrophysics?”

The enthusiasm in his voice makes you smile. “I’ve always been fascinated by space, you know? The idea that there’s so much out there we don’t understand ... it’s exciting.”

“That’s amazing,” Max says, genuinely impressed. “What kind of stuff are you studying right now?”

You laugh softly. “Are you sure you want to know? I might bore you with all the technical details.”

Max leans forward, his expression earnest. “Try me. I want to hear all about it.”

Encouraged by his interest, you begin to explain your current research project. As you talk, your hands move animatedly, your eyes lighting up with passion. Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.

“... and that’s why understanding dark matter is so crucial,” you finish, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I kind of went off on a tangent there.”

Max shakes his head, smiling warmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s fascinating. I had no idea you were into all this. Why haven’t I heard about it before?”

Your smile falters slightly. “Oh, well ... it doesn’t really come up much. Everyone’s usually more interested in talking about racing.”

Max frowns. “But this is incredible. You’re studying to unravel the mysteries of the universe. That’s way cooler than driving in circles.”

You laugh, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Try telling that to my family. I think they see it as more of a hobby than a career path.”

“What?” Max looks genuinely shocked. “How can they not be incredibly proud? This is huge!”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “I guess it’s just not as exciting as F1? It’s okay, though. I’m used to it.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No, it’s not okay. Y/N, you’re brilliant. Your family should be shouting it from the rooftops.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them back hastily. “Thanks, Max. That ... that means a lot.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over yours. “I mean it. And for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is incredible.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there, an understanding that makes your heart skip a beat. Without really thinking about it, you shift closer to him.

Max seems to take this as an invitation, because he moves closer too. Soon, you’re sitting side by side, your shoulders touching.

“So,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “What about you? Any secret passions outside of racing?”

Max chuckles. “Nothing as impressive as astrophysics, I’m afraid. But I do enjoy sim racing in my spare time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that just more racing?”

“Hey, it’s completely different,” Max protests with a grin. “In sim racing, I can drive any car on any track. Even ones that don’t exist in real life.”

“Okay, okay,” you concede, laughing. “Tell me more about it.”

As Max launches into an explanation of his favorite sim racing setups, you find yourself relaxing more and more. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and playful debates.

Without really noticing, you both shift positions throughout the night. Max leans back against the headboard, and you mirror him. Your shoulders are pressed together, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“... and that’s why I think pineapple absolutely belongs on pizza,” Max finishes, looking at you expectantly.

You shake your head, grinning. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a world champion. Your taste buds clearly can’t be trusted.”

“Oh, come on,” Max laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“I have tried it,” you insist. “It’s an abomination.”

Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Y/N. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

The word ‘friends’ sends an odd pang through your chest. Is that what this is? It feels like more, somehow.

As if reading your thoughts, Max’s expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so gentle, so intimate, that it takes your breath away.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing. “Me too,” you whisper.

There’s a moment of charged silence, and then Max is leaning in. You meet him halfway, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.

It’s brief, just a fleeting press of lips, but it sends sparks shooting through your entire body. When you pull back, Max is looking at you with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.

“Was that okay?” He asks, his voice husky.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Instead, you lean in again, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more assured. Max’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you melt into his touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he admits.

You laugh softly. “Even when I was insulting your pizza preferences?”

“Especially then,” Max grins. “You’re cute when you’re indignant.”

You swat at his arm playfully, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. For the first time all day, you feel truly happy.

As the night wears on, you and Max continue to talk, trading stories and stealing kisses. Gradually, your positions shift again. Max lies down, and you curl up against his side, your head resting on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you close.

“Y/N?” Max says softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

“Hmm?” you mumble, feeling drowsy and content.

“Happy birthday,” he says. “I know it didn’t start out great, but I hope it got better.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “It did,” you assure him. “Thanks to you.”

Max kisses your forehead gently. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We can figure everything else out in the morning.”

As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in Max’s arms, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this birthday wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, it might just be the start of something wonderful.

***

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you feel a strong arm wrapped around your waist. For a moment, confusion sets in before the events of the previous night come rushing back.

You’re in Max Verstappen’s bed. And Max Verstappen is currently spooning you.

A smile tugs at your lips as you nestle back into his warmth, not quite ready to face the day. But fate, it seems, has other plans.

A sharp knock at the door jolts both of you awake. Max groans, burying his face in your hair.

“Room service?” You mumble, still half-asleep.

Max shakes his head, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Didn’t order any.”

The knock comes again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, Max untangles himself from you and slides out of bed.

“I’ll get it,” he says, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You stay here.”

You nod, pulling the covers up to your chin and watching as Max pads to the door in his t-shirt and sweatpants. He opens it a crack, peering out.

“Can I help you?” He asks, confusion evident in his tone.

There’s a muffled response, and then Max is stepping back, opening the door wider. A hotel staff member enters, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses.

“Delivery for Y/N Leclerc,” the staff member announces, looking around the room.

You sit up in bed, eyes wide. “That’s ... that’s me.”

The staff member nods, moving to set the bouquet on a nearby table. “Sign here, please,” he says, holding out a clipboard.

Still bewildered, you climb out of bed and make your way over, scrawling your signature on the form. The staff member thanks you and exits, leaving you and Max staring at the ostentatious display of flowers.

“Well,” Max says after a moment, “I guess your brother remembered after all.”

You let out a rueful laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I guess he did.”

Max frowns, noting the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “Aren’t you happy about it?”

You sigh, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals. “It’s just ... I’ve told Charles a hundred times that I don’t like roses. They’re not my favorite flower. But every time he needs to apologize or wants to do something nice, it’s always roses.”

“Oh,” Max says softly, understanding dawning on his face. “So it’s less about you and more about what he thinks you should like.”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Exactly. It’s like he doesn’t really listen, you know? He just does what he thinks is right without considering what I actually want.”

Max moves closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. “That must be frustrating,” he says gently.

You lean into him, grateful for the support. “It is. And I know I should be grateful. It’s a beautiful bouquet, and he’s trying. But ...”

“But it’s not what you want,” Max finishes for you. “And that matters.”

You look up at him, surprised by how well he understands. “Yeah, exactly.”

Max turns to face you fully, his blue eyes serious. “Y/N, listen to me. It’s okay to be upset about this. It’s okay to want your family to actually listen to you and consider your feelings.”

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill over. “But they’re trying now. Shouldn’t I just forgive them and move on?”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No. You don’t have to forgive them right away just because they made a grand gesture. It’s okay to make them work for your forgiveness.”

“Really?” You ask, your voice small.

“Really,” Max assures you. “They hurt you, Y/N. They forgot your birthday and made you feel invisible. One bouquet of flowers — flowers you don’t even like — doesn’t erase that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words. “So what do I do?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Well, what do you want to do? How do you feel?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not ready to see them yet. I know I’ll have to face them eventually, but right now ... I just can’t.”

“Then don’t,” Max says simply. “Take the time you need. They can wait.”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his words. “You don’t think that’s selfish?”

Max cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. “It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”

Tears spill over then, and Max pulls you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in his chest, letting out all the hurt and frustration you’ve been holding in.

“Shh,” Max soothes, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

After a few minutes, your sobs subside. You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I got your shirt all wet.”

Max chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think I’ll survive. Feel better?”

You nod, offering him a watery smile. “Yeah, actually. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Max says softly. Then, a mischievous glint enters his eye. “So, what should we do with the roses? I vote we throw them off the balcony and watch them scatter in the wind.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “As tempting as that is, I don’t think hotel management would appreciate it.”

Max shrugs, grinning. “Their loss. We could always donate them to a hospital or something. Brighten someone else’s day.”

“That’s ... actually a really good idea,” you say, impressed. “We could do that.”

Max beams, clearly pleased with himself. “See? I’m not just a pretty face and fast driver.”

You roll your eyes fondly, but can’t suppress your smile. “Careful, Verstappen. Your ego’s showing.”

“You love it,” he teases, pulling you close again.

As you stand there in his arms, surrounded by the cloying scent of roses you don’t even like, you’re struck by how safe you feel. How understood.

“Max?” You say softly.

“Hmm?”

You pull back slightly to meet his gaze. “Thank you. For everything. For making my birthday special, for listening to me, for ... just being here.”

Max’s expression softens, a tender smile playing at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I ... I care about you, Y/N. A lot.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I care about you too,” you admit.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Then, slowly, Max leans in. His lips meet yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your toes curl.

When you break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

“So,” he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What happens now?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not sure. This is all happening so fast, and with everything going on with my family ...”

Max nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow,” he assures you. “There’s no rush.”

Relief washes over you. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I do want this — us. I just need some time to figure everything out.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Max says, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “For now, how about we get some breakfast? I’m starving.”

You laugh, grateful for the shift in mood. “Breakfast sounds perfect. But maybe we should change first? I’m not sure I want to face the paparazzi in yesterday’s clothes.”

Max grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t know, I think you look pretty good in my t-shirt.”

You glance down, realizing for the first time that you’re indeed wearing one of Max’s shirts. A blush creeps up your cheeks. “When did that happen?”

“You got cold in the middle of the night,” Max explains, looking far too pleased with himself. “I offered you my shirt. You were very insistent that it was the most comfortable thing you’d ever worn.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god. Please tell me I didn’t say anything else embarrassing.”

Max laughs, gently prying your hands away from your face. “Nothing too bad. Though you did mention something about my waist being ‘unfairly perfect’. Your words, not mine.”

“Kill me now,” you mutter, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

Max pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Never. I’m rather fond of you, embarrassing sleep talk and all.”

As you stand there in Max’s arms, the morning sun warming your skin and the scent of roses filling the air, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope. Yes, there’s still a lot to figure out — with your family, with Max, with your future. But for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And that, you think, is the best birthday gift of all.

***

The private terminal of Milan Malpensa Airport buzzes with activity as the Leclerc family waits to board their chartered jet. Charles paces back and forth, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, eyes darting to the entrance every few seconds.

“Charles, honey, please sit down,” his mother, Pascale, says gently. “You’re making me nervous.”

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair for what must be the hundredth time. “I can’t, Maman. Where is she? She should be here by now.”

Lorenzo exchanges a worried glance with Arthur. “Maybe she got held up in traffic?” He suggests, though his tone lacks conviction.

“For three hours?” Charles snaps, immediately regretting his harsh tone. “Sorry, I just ... I’m worried.”

Arthur stands up, placing a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder. “We all are. But Y/N’s an adult. She can take care of herself.”

Charles lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know that. But after yesterday ... we really messed up.”

“We did,” Pascale agrees softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But we’ll make it right. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she ever shows up,” Charles mutters, resuming his pacing.

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow. Charles alternates between checking his phone and staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of you arriving. But the parking lot remains stubbornly devoid of your presence.

Finally, a staff member approaches the family. “Mr. Leclerc? The jet is ready for boarding. We need to depart soon to maintain our flight slot.”

Charles feels panic rising in his chest. “No, we can’t leave yet. My sister isn’t here.”

The staff member looks uncomfortable. “I understand, sir, but we have a schedule to keep. Perhaps your sister could take a commercial flight?”

“Absolutely not,” Charles says firmly. “We’re not leaving without her.”

Lorenzo steps in, ever the diplomat. “Is there any way we could delay for just a bit longer? It’s really important that we wait for our sister.”

The staff member hesitates, then nods. “I’ll see what I can do. But please understand, we can’t hold the slot indefinitely.”

As the employee walks away, Charles resumes his pacing with renewed vigor.

“This isn’t like her,” he mutters. “She wouldn’t just disappear without telling us.”

Arthur bites his lip, looking guilty. “Maybe ... maybe she’s still upset about yesterday?”

Charles stops in his tracks, turning to face his younger brother. “What do you mean?”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably. “Well, we did forget her birthday. And then when we remembered, we didn’t exactly handle it well. Those roses you sent? Y/N hates roses.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She ... what? No, she loves roses. I always get her roses.”

“Because you always get her roses,” Lorenzo chimes in, realization dawning on his face. “Not because she actually likes them.”

Charles slumps into a nearby chair, head in his hands. “How did I not know that? What kind of brother am I?”

Pascale moves to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve all made mistakes. But we can fix this. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she’ll even talk to us,” Charles mumbles.

Just then, his phone buzzes. Charles nearly drops it in his haste to check the notification, hope flaring in his chest. But it’s not from you.

“It’s Max,” he says, frowning in confusion.

“Verstappen?” Arthur asks, leaning over to peek at the screen. “What does he want?”

Charles opens the message, his eyes widening as he reads it aloud:

“Y/N is with me. She’s safe and we’re flying back to Monaco together. She needs some space right now. Give her time.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Charles reads and rereads the message, trying to process what it means.

“She’s with Max?” Lorenzo finally says, breaking the silence. “Since when are they even friends?”

Charles shakes his head, still staring at his phone. “I don’t know. I ... I saw him last night. He knew where she was, but I thought it was just a spontaneous thing.”

“Well, at least we know she’s safe,” Pascale says, always trying to find the silver lining. “That’s the most important thing.”

But Charles can’t shake the feeling of unease settling in his stomach. “Why didn’t she come to us? Why Max, of all people?”

Arthur places a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.

The words hit Charles like a physical blow. He knows Arthur is right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

“So what do we do now?” Lorenzo asks, looking around at his family.

Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. “We do what Max said. We give her time.”

“But for how long?” Pascale asks, worry evident in her voice. “She’s our little girl. We can’t just leave her alone.”

“She’s not alone, Maman,” Charles says, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “She’s with Max. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I think ... I think she might be better off with him right now.”

The family falls silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their collective mistake hangs heavy in the air.

Finally, Charles stands up, squaring his shoulders. “We should board the jet. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

As they gather their belongings and make their way to the plane, Charles can’t help but replay Max’s message in his head. You’re with Max. You’re safe. You need space.

He tries to imagine you and Max together, and finds that he can’t. What could have happened in the span of one day to bring you two together? And more importantly, what had driven you away from your own family?

As he settles into his seat on the jet, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll give you the space you need, but he won’t give up. He’ll find a way to make things right, to be the brother you deserve.

The jet takes off, carrying the Leclerc family back to Monaco. But for Charles, it feels like they’re leaving a piece of themselves behind in Milan. A piece that, he fears, might be harder to reclaim than he ever imagined.

Meanwhile, across the airport, you and Max are boarding his private jet. The contrast between the two scenes couldn’t be more stark.

“You okay?” Max asks softly as you settle into your seat.

You nod, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for ... well, everything.”

Max reaches over, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime. You know that.”

As the jet prepares for takeoff, you can’t help but think about your family. Are they worried? Angry? Do they even care?

“Max?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

You turn to look at him, vulnerability shining in your eyes. “Did I do the right thing? Leaving without talking to them?”

Max considers your question carefully before answering. “I think you did what you needed to do for yourself. And that’s never wrong.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension in your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “For understanding. For not pushing me to do what everyone else thinks I should do.”

Max smiles, a soft, genuine expression that makes your heart flutter. “That’s what ... friends are for, right?”

There’s a hesitation in his voice, a question in his eyes that makes you wonder if ‘friends’ is really the right word for what’s developing between you.

As the jet takes off, carrying you away from Milan and the chaos of the past day, you find yourself feeling something you haven’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for a future where you’re seen, heard, and valued for who you are.

And as you glance at Max, his profile illuminated by the setting sun streaming through the window, you can’t help but wonder if he might be a bigger part of that future than you ever imagined.

The jet climbs higher, leaving the ground and all its complications behind. For now, at least, you’re free. Free to breathe, to think, to feel without the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

You close your eyes, letting out a long breath. Whatever comes next, you know one thing for certain: things will never be the same again. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.

***

The sun is setting over Monaco, shining warmly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse apartment. You’re curled up on the plush sofa, a book in your lap, trying to lose yourself in the pages. But your mind keeps wandering, replaying the events of the past couple of days.

Max emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. “Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.

You smile gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma of hot chocolate. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, settling down beside you. “I wanted to. How’re you holding up?”

You’re about to answer when the doorbell rings. Max frowns, glancing at his watch. “I’m not expecting anyone. Are you?”

You shake your head, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. Could it be your family? Are they here to confront you?

Max squeezes your hand reassuringly before getting up to answer the door. You hear muffled voices, then the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

“Um, Y/N?” Max calls. “I think you might want to see this.”

Curiosity overcoming your apprehension, you make your way to the foyer. Your jaw drops at the sight that greets you.

The entire space is filled with bags. Not just any bags, but the kind that comes from the most exclusive boutiques in Monaco. Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel — the logos stare back at you from every direction.

“What ... what is all this?” You stammer, looking to Max for explanation.

He hands you a small envelope. “This came with it. It’s addressed to you.”

With trembling fingers, you open the envelope and unfold the note inside. You’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.

Y/N,

I know I messed up. We all did. I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday and for not being the brother you deserve. I hope these gifts can begin to make up for it. Please come home. We miss you.

Love,

Charles

You read the note twice, then a third time, disbelief turning to anger with each pass.

“He’s got to be kidding,” you mutter, crumpling the paper in your fist.

Max steps closer, concern etched on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “This,” you say, gesturing at the sea of designer bags, “is my brother’s idea of an apology. He thinks he can just ... buy me back with expensive gifts.”

Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “Ah. And I’m guessing that’s not going to work?”

“Not even close,” you say, shaking your head. “God, it’s like he doesn’t know me at all. I’m not one of his girlfriends who can be placated with a shopping spree.”

Max winces. “Ouch. Has he done this before?”

You nod, sinking down onto the nearest clear spot on the floor. “Every time he messes up with a girl, it’s the same routine. Flowers, jewelry, designer clothes. And it usually works, because the girls he dates ... well, they tend to be into that kind of thing.”

Max sits down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “But you’re not.”

“No,” you confirm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate nice things. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about him actually listening to me, actually seeing me as a person and not just ... his kid sister who can be bought off.”

Max is quiet for a moment, then says softly, “You know, it’s okay to be angry about this. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

His words break something open inside you. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. “I just ... I thought he knew me better than this. I thought they all did.”

Max wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You lean into him, letting the tears fall freely now.

“It’s like they don’t even see me,” you choke out between sobs. “They see this idea of who they think I should be, but not ... not who I actually am.”

Max rubs soothing circles on your back, letting you cry it out. When your sobs finally subside, he hands you a tissue.

“Feel better?” He asks gently.

You nod, wiping your eyes. “A little. Sorry for breaking down on you like that.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Don’t apologize. That’s what I’m here for.”

You offer him a watery smile, then turn back to survey the mountain of bags. “So ... what do I do with all this?”

Max considers for a moment. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You bite your lip, thinking. “Honestly? I want to send it all back. Show him that he can’t just throw money at the problem and expect it to go away.”

Max nods approvingly. “I think that’s a great idea. It sends a clear message.”

“You don’t think it’s too harsh?” You ask, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

“Not at all,” Max assures you. “You’re standing up for yourself, setting boundaries. That’s important.”

Emboldened by his support, you start rifling through the bags, curiosity getting the better of you. “I wonder what he even bought ... oh.”

You pull out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate tennis bracelet. The diamonds catch the light, sparkling brilliantly.

“Wow,” Max breathes, leaning in for a closer look. “That’s ... that’s something.”

You nod, mesmerized by the way the bracelet shimmers. “It’s beautiful,” you admit softly.

Max watches you carefully. “You like it,” he observes.

You sigh, closing the box with a snap. “It doesn’t matter. It’s going back with everything else.”

“Why?” Max asks, genuine curiosity in his voice. “If you like it, why not keep it?”

You look at him, surprised. “But ... I thought you said sending it all back was a good idea?”

Max shrugs. “It is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep one thing if it genuinely makes you happy. You’re allowed to like nice things, Y/N. That doesn’t invalidate your feelings about the situation.”

You turn the box over in your hands, considering. “I don’t know ... wouldn’t keeping anything send the wrong message?”

“I think,” Max says slowly, “that the message you send depends more on what you say than what you keep or don’t keep. If you like the bracelet, keep it. But make sure Charles understands that a pretty piece of jewelry doesn’t fix the underlying issues.”

You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”

As you start sorting through the bags, separating out what will be returned, you can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

You hold up the bracelet box. “I was just thinking ... it would be a shame to let something this pretty go to waste, right?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Absolutely. It’s practically your duty to keep it. For the sake of the bracelet, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree, giggling. “I’m being completely selfless here.”

As you continue to sort through the gifts, occasionally showing Max particularly outrageous items (“A fur coat? In Monaco?”), you feel a weight lifting from your shoulders. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, you feel like you’re taking control of the situation.

“You know,” you say, folding a designer dress back into its bag, “I think I need to have a real conversation with Charles. With all of them, really.”

Max nods encouragingly. “I think that’s a great idea. What do you want to say?”

You take a deep breath, organizing your thoughts. “I want them to understand that I’m my own person, with my own dreams and desires. That I need them to see me, really see me, not just as Charles Leclerc’s little sister or as an extension of the family name.”

“That sounds perfect,” Max says softly. “You deserve to be seen for who you are.”

You smile at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”

Max reaches out, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. But I’m glad I could help.”

As you sit there, surrounded by discarded luxury goods, your hand in Max’s, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. You know the road ahead won’t be easy — confronting your family, establishing new boundaries, figuring out exactly where you stand with Max — but for the first time in a long time, you feel ready to face it all.

You slip on the tennis bracelet, admiring the way it catches the light. It’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder that you’re worth more than grand gestures and expensive gifts. You’re worth being truly seen, truly heard, truly understood.

And as you look at Max, his blue eyes warm with understanding and something that might be more, you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.

***

The afternoon sun beats down on the streets of Monaco as Charles leans against his Ferrari, fidgeting nervously. He’s parked across from the International University of Monaco, his eyes fixed on the entrance. Students stream in and out, but none of them are the one he’s looking for.

He checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time. Your last class should be ending any minute now. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s rehearsed what he wants to say a thousand times, but now that the moment is approaching, all his carefully prepared words seem to evaporate.

A group of students emerges from the building, laughing and chatting. Charles straightens up, his eyes scanning the crowd. And then he sees you.

You’re walking with a couple of friends, your bag slung over your shoulder, a smile on your face. For a moment, Charles is struck by how ... normal you look. How at ease. It’s a stark contrast to the tense family dinners and stilted conversations of recent months.

Before he can second-guess himself, Charles pushes off from his car and starts walking towards you. He sees the exact moment you spot him — your smile falters, your steps slow.

“Y/N!” He calls out, waving awkwardly.

Your friends notice him too, their eyes widening in recognition. You say something to them that Charles can’t hear, and they nod, casting curious glances between you and your brother as they walk away.

Charles reaches you, stopping a few feet away, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Charles,” you reply, your voice carefully neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s never been able to shake. “I ... I wanted to talk to you. In person. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and I just ... I needed to see you.”

You sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I’ve been busy with classes. And I needed some space.”

“I know,” Charles says quickly. “I know, and I’m sorry for ambushing you like this. I just ... can we talk? Please?”

You glance around, noticing the curious stares from passing students. “Not here,” you say finally. “There’s a café around the corner. We can talk there.”

Charles nods eagerly, relief washing over him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

You lead the way to the café, a small, cozy place tucked away from the main streets. As you settle into a booth in the back, Charles can’t help but wonder how often you come here, how many parts of your life he knows nothing about.

A waitress approaches, and you order your usual — an iced latte with an extra shot. Charles fumbles with the menu before ordering a simple espresso.

An awkward silence falls over the table as you wait for your drinks. Charles fidgets with a napkin, trying to find the right words to begin.

“So,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”

Charles takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. For forgetting your birthday, for not being there for you, for ... for everything.”

You raise an eyebrow, your expression unreadable. “Is that it?”

Charles blinks, thrown off balance. “I ... what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “is that all you have to say? You’re sorry?”

Charles feels a flash of frustration. “What else do you want me to say? I messed up, I know that. I’m trying to make it right.”

The waitress returns with your drinks, and you take a long sip of your latte before responding. “Charles, this isn’t just about my birthday. This is about years of feeling invisible, of being overshadowed, of not being seen for who I am.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “What? Y/N, I ... I had no idea you felt that way.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s kind of the point, Charles. You didn’t know because you never asked. None of you did.”

Charles sits back, his mind reeling. “I ... I don’t understand. We’ve always been close. At least, I thought we were.”

“We were,” you agree softly. “When we were kids. But as you got more and more successful, it was like ... like I faded into the background. Everything became about you, about your career.”

Charles feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Y/N, I never meant for that to happen. I love you. You’re my little sister.”

“I know you love me,” you say, your voice gentler now. “But loving someone and seeing them are two different things.”

Charles nods slowly, realization dawning. “The gifts,” he says. “That’s why you sent them back. Because I was trying to fix things without actually understanding what was wrong.”

“Exactly,” you confirm. “Charles, I don’t need expensive clothes or jewelry. I need my brother. The one who used to listen to me ramble about constellations for hours, who’d sneak me extra dessert when Maman wasn’t looking.”

Charles reaches across the table, hesitating for a moment before taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “I want to be that brother again,” he says earnestly. “Tell me how. Please.”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Well, for starters, you could ask me about my life. My studies, my friends, my dreams. And actually listen to the answers.”

Charles nods eagerly. “Yes, of course. Tell me everything. What are you studying? How are your classes going?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m majoring in Astrophysics, remember? This semester I’m taking a course on Stellar Evolution that’s absolutely fascinating. We’re learning about the life cycles of stars, from their formation to their eventual death.”

As you continue talking, passion lighting up your eyes, Charles feels a mix of pride and shame wash over him. Pride in your intelligence and enthusiasm, shame that he’s missed out on so much of your life.

“That sounds incredible,” he says when you pause for breath. “I had no idea you were studying something so complex. You must be really good at it.”

You shrug, a hint of your old shyness creeping in. “I do okay. It’s challenging, but I love it.”

“I’m sure you do more than okay,” Charles insists. “You’ve always been the smartest one in the family.”

You laugh softly. “I don’t know about that. But ... thanks, Charles. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Charles squeezes your hand. “I mean it. And I want to hear more. About your classes, your friends, everything. I’ve missed so much, and I want to make up for it.”

You nod, a cautious hope in your eyes. “I’d like that. But Charles, it can’t just be today. This has to be a continuous thing. I need to know that you’re genuinely interested in my life, not just when you’re trying to make amends.”

“Absolutely,” Charles agrees immediately. “What if we set up a regular call? Once a week, we can catch up properly. No distractions, no racing talk unless you want to. Just us.”

A genuine smile spreads across your face. “I’d really like that.”

Charles feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. It’s not fixed, not completely, but it’s a start. “There’s something else,” he says, suddenly remembering. “Max ... are you and Max ...”

You blush slightly, looking down at your latte. “We’re ... figuring things out. He’s been really supportive through all of this.”

Charles nods, pushing down the instinctive surge of protectiveness. “He’s a good guy. If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

You look up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Really? You’re not going to go all overprotective big brother on me?”

Charles chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have my moments. But Y/N, you’re an adult. You can make your own choices. I trust you.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you. That ... that means more than you know.”

As you both finish your drinks, the conversation flows more easily. Charles asks about your friends, your hobbies outside of studying. You tell him about the astronomy club you’ve joined, the research project you’re hoping to get involved with next semester.

When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”

You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.

“I love you, little sister,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I promise, I’m going to do better.”

You squeeze him back. “I love you too, big brother. And ... I’m willing to give you the chance to prove it.”

As you part ways outside the café, Charles heading back to his car and you towards your apartment, there’s a lightness in the air that wasn’t there before. It’s not perfect, not yet. There are still conversations to be had, bridges to be rebuilt. But for the first time in a long time, there’s hope.

Charles watches you walk away, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Pride in the amazing person you’ve become, regret for the time he’s missed, determination to be the brother you deserve.

He pulls out his phone, creating a new reminder: Call Y/N — every Sunday, 7 PM.

It’s a small step, but it’s a start. And as he drives home, Charles finds himself looking forward to getting to know his little sister all over again.

***

The auditorium of the International University of Monaco buzzes with excitement as proud families and friends gather to celebrate the graduating class. In the front row, an unusually high-profile group draws curious glances and whispered conversations.

Charles fidgets in his seat, craning his neck to scan the sea of graduates. “Do you see her?” He asks, nudging his older brother.

Lorenzo chuckles, placing a calming hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Relax. She’ll be here. Alphabetical order, remember?”

On Charles’ other side, Arthur rolls his eyes fondly. “You’d think he was the one graduating, the way he’s acting.”

“Can you blame him?” Max chimes in from the end of the row, a warm smile on his face. “It’s a big day.”

Pascale, seated between Lorenzo and Arthur, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “My baby girl, graduating university. I can hardly believe it.”

Max reaches across to pat her hand. “She’s amazing, Pascale. You should be very proud.”

Charles turns to Max, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at you, all calm and collected. I remember when you were a nervous wreck asking her out for the first time.”

Max blushes slightly, but grins. “Hey, your sister is intimidating. All that brainpower.”

“Shh!” Arthur hisses suddenly. “I think it’s starting!”

The auditorium falls silent as the ceremony begins. The family watches with rapt attention as the graduates file in, searching for that familiar face among the sea of caps and gowns.

And then, there you are. Your eyes scan the crowd until they land on your family, a bright smile spreading across your face as you wave discreetly.

“There she is!” Charles whisper-shouts, practically bouncing in his seat.

Lorenzo chuckles. “We see her. Try to contain yourself, yeah?”

The ceremony progresses, with speeches from the valedictorian and various dignitaries. Charles fidgets impatiently, earning amused glances from his family and Max.

Finally, the moment arrives. “Y/N Leclerc,” the announcer calls.

Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.

Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.

You walk across the stage, accepting your diploma with a graceful nod. As you turn to face the audience, your eyes lock with your family’s, and your composed expression breaks into a radiant smile.

Charles, caught up in the moment, continues cheering even after you’ve left the stage. “That’s right! Astrophysicist in the house! Watch out, universe!”

Max, noticing the irritated glances from other families, reaches over and claps a hand over Charles’ mouth. “Okay, Charlie, I think she heard you,” he says, laughter in his voice.

Max feels something wet against his palm and jerks his hand away.

“Ugh, gross!” Max yelps, wiping it on his pants. “What are you, five?”

Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”

Pascale sighs, shaking her head. “Boys, please. This is Y/N’s big day. Try to act like adults.”

“Sorry, Maman,” Charles mumbles, properly chastised.

As the ceremony concludes, the family makes their way outside, eagerly scanning the crowd for you.

“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.

You’re making your way towards them, diploma in hand, your face glowing with happiness. Max reaches you first, sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Congratulations, liefje,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

You beam up at him, about to respond when Charles practically tackles you both.

“My sister, the genius!” He crows, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. “I always knew you’d take over the world someday.”

You laugh, hugging him back just as fiercely. “Put me down, you goof! You’re making a scene.”

“Let him have his moment,” Lorenzo says, stepping in for his own hug once Charles releases you. “It’s not every day your little sister graduates top of her class in Astrophysics.”

Arthur’s turn comes next, his hug gentler but no less heartfelt. “Congrats. You’ve officially made the rest of us look like underachievers.”

Finally, you turn to your mother, who’s openly crying now. “Oh, my darling,” she says, cupping your face in her hands. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

You feel tears welling up in your own eyes as you embrace her. “Thanks, Maman. For everything.”

As you pull back, wiping at your eyes, Charles slings an arm around your shoulders. “So, what’s next? Going to discover a new planet? Name a star after your favorite man?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “First of all, I still have to get through graduate school. And second, bold of you to assume you’re my favorite.”

“Ouch,” Charles clutches his chest in mock pain. “After all we’ve been through?”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Face it, Leclerc. I’ve got you beat in the favorite department.”

Charles narrows his eyes playfully. “Is that a challenge, Verstappen?”

“Boys, boys,” you interject, laughing. “There’s plenty of me to go around. Now, how about we get out of here? I’m starving, and I believe someone promised me a celebration dinner.”

“Ah, yes!” Pascale says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve made reservations at La Maree. Your favorite, chérie.”

As the family starts to move towards the parking lot, Max hangs back, tugging gently on your hand. “Hold on a sec,” he says softly. “I want to give you something.”

Curious, you turn to face him. Max reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.

Your eyes widen. “Max ...”

He opens the box, revealing a delicate necklace. A small white gold star pendant hangs from the chain, a tiny diamond twinkling at its center.

“I know it’s not much compared to your usual study subjects,” Max says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “But I thought ... well, you’re my star, Y/N. My brilliant, beautiful star.”

Tears well up in your eyes again as Max fastens the necklace around your neck. “It’s perfect,” you whisper. “I love it. I love you.”

Max’s face breaks into a radiant smile. “I love you too,” he says, before leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your waist. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.

The spell is broken by an exaggerated gagging sound. You break apart to see Charles pretending to retch, while Lorenzo and Arthur laugh.

You break apart, laughing. “Real mature, Charles,” you call back.

Charles grins, unrepentant. “Hey, someone’s got to keep an eye on you crazy kids.”

Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Your brother, the chaperone,” he mutters.

You giggle, taking Max’s hand as you rejoin your family. “Don’t worry,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’ll ditch him at the restaurant.”

As you all pile into the waiting cars, the air buzzing with excitement and plans for the evening, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness. A year ago, you never would have imagined this scene — your family truly seeing and celebrating you, a wonderful man by your side who loves and supports you, and a bright future ahead in a field you’re passionate about.

The cars pull away from the university, carrying you towards your celebration dinner. As you watch the familiar streets of Monaco roll by, you find yourself filled with an incredible sense of anticipation. This isn’t just the end of your university journey — it’s the beginning of something new and exciting.

You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.

“Hey,” Max says softly, noticing your pensive expression. “You okay?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “More than okay. I’m perfect.”

And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.

[justana0kguy]

2023 JUNE 28 Wednesday

REVIEWED 1'23 #5 ~ Temple Run

I am happy to report that I have completed the Running Per/Total Distance target for the month of June per Temple of the Form with good findings and a few days of scheduled running to spare.

In review of the past month of running regularly I have realized a few things that I would like to share and keep in mind moving forward:

After a few days into the month, I realized that the 1.0-km per run and 10-km total running distance I set was playing too safe and I was just using the excuse that I had not run regularly in a long while. I was too afraid of embarrassing myself by setting too "lofty" goals at the get go or gassing myself out during actual runs just trying to meet the targets. But after building up momentum, I found myself back in the rhythm as when I was running regularly, minus the tip top shape form. The lesson is ~ Don't underestimate what you are capable of as long as you are disciplined and focused enough to do the work, and not on what you think or what you think other people may think about what you can do;

At the later part of the month, when I was starting to build up strength and endurance, I seem to notice that I have an easier time when I pick up the pace and include deeper non-interval breathing, than with my usual slow to moderate pacing and regular breathing. It may also be because my body is getting used to running but I have also tried my usual before that and there seems to be a non-insignificant improvement in my performance. And so moving forward, as long as I keep up proper rest and energy intake ~ Focus on sustaining a good pace and be mindful to include deep non-interval breaths in between regular breathing.

And a good thing about all this is that the month has not ended yet and I still have a few more running days scheduled, which bodes well for the incoming increase of target levels for the next month. But the best part is that my fatigue (and fear) levels are starting to dwindle and I find myself eager rather than dreading nights of walking and running. So let's keep it up and let's gooo!

TL;DR ~ don't underestimate yourself and don't think of (what) others (think) too much; just keep focus and discipline on running, keep up the pace and slow down the breathing

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Four

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Drinking, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), orgasms!!! MDNI

Side note: The house has solar panels and though probably unrealistic, for the story they have some electricity

Masterlist

Price could see it. The nerves bubbling in your stomach, cheeks flushed with an ample shade of red.

He watched you turn, wet clothes drawn to your subtle curves, the swell of your hips outlined as you jogged away. He continued sweeping, smile evident through the crinkle of his eyes with an occasional glance at the door, hoping you would come back and tell him that you did in fact, need help keeping warm.

As soon as you stepped foot inside, you were darting past Gaz, tumbling straight to your bedroom. Your clothes were uncomfortable, sticking to your skin like a disease as you peeled them off and slapped them against the tub, a large thump ringing out.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your upper half visible as you cupped the brassiere, Price’s words replaying in your mind as you stared, pushing your breasts together in an attempt to feel sexy before letting out a soft groan and unclipping it.

For the most part, you had made do with clothes, having brought a couple when things went to shit and you were somewhat glad that the woman who lived here before you wasn’t completely out of touch with her style. You smoothed the long sleeve down as you brushed your drenched hair out, ringing it into a bun.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, pulling at your cheeks before you began to talk in an attempt to see what they saw when they looked at you. You posed in the mirror before freezing, realising how ridiculous you were being before you plonked downstairs, the sound of your footsteps barely visible thanks to the massive socks you were wearing.

You rummaged through your bag that you had thrown to the side, stocking the cupboards with the tins you had found at the store and the large bag of sugar that you would hopefully be able to bake with, almost tempted to swallow a raw spoonful right now.

You heard the back door shut, a much wetter Price trailing in, stripping off his jacket. Your gaze faltered for a second, taking in the way his clothes clung to his frame, like he did to you, before you looked away.

“Need help?” He asked, his tone almost soothing.

“Didn’t get much, just some tinned vegetables and a bag of sugar. The rest is personal.”

Blue eyes flickered to your bag in curiosity, the hint of a black lid poking out through the top as he raised a thick brow at you. His laugh was almost dry as he walked over and grabbed it, holding it up to the light as the caramel hues swished around.

He muttered something along the lines of, ‘I’ll be damned’ before placing it back on the counter. He paused for a moment, taking you in, the way your lips slightly parted, eyebrows slightly clenched, almost like you wanted to look intimidating and the way your eyes would drop when he looked at you for too long, struggling to find something in the room to focus on.

“You let me know if you need any help with your personal issues, yeah?”

He was talking about drinking the whiskey, you know that, but the way his eyes flickered to your chest, shirt slightly clung to you, the gentle outline of your nipples coaxing through the thin material had your heart pumping faster.

Time passed as you continued to sew, holding the fabric up to yourself, a row of pins stabbed into a tiny cushion to your side. Gaz had settled in the lounge room next to you, eyes occasionally darting to watch you before returning to the page of his book.

You yelped, a loud thump bellowing from outside as you took in the burly frames of two men… and the dead deer laying on the porch. A small buzz sounded through your ears as you looked down, your needle winced through your skin, a shock jolting through you as you picked it out, the instant welcoming of blood streaming down your finger.

Gaz looked at you and then down to your finger, blood evidently slithering down it as he jumped up. “Shit, you ok?”

You nodded, clutching it as you walked over to the sink, an evident wince jolting your frame as you held it under the tap.

“Ay bonnie, didn’t mean to scare you. Y’ alright?” The Scotsman said, stepping inside the house as he shook off like a dog.

“I’m fine,” you muttered as you felt Gaz’s hand grab yours, holding a wet wad of toilet paper to the tiny, yet painful, wound.

“You got bandages?” He said, voice almost a whisper, like it was only meant for you to hear.

“Inside the shared bathroom upstairs, under the cabinet.” Your tone was gentle, it almost felt unusual to use. You watched him nod, bolting upstairs as Soap rushed over, his mohawk extra pointy due to the rain causing a light laugh to pass your lips.

“Aye lass, I’m sorry,” he said, hand wrapping around your finger as he pressed tightly on the wound to constrict the bleeding. Your body twitched slightly, as the pain began to subside at the pressure.

Gaz walked back over, gently unwrapping the makeshift cotton bud as he wrapped the plaster around it, a small prickle of blood quickly disappearing under the sticky beige. You rustled away from the pair as you walked back over to the couch.

Ghost stood there, eyes focused on your every move.

“You’re dripping all over the floor,” you muttered, his gaze dropping to the small puddle he was forming at his feet before he grunted, heavy feet stomping up the stairs.

“Y’ making a skirt?” Soap asked, tone curious as he held up the fabric before plonking down next to you, his weight causing u to sink further into the old couch.

“Trying to,” you replied, taking the skirt from him and placing it on the plush mannequin you found hidden away in the basement months ago.

“Looks good,” Gaz interjected, taking a seat across from you both.

You frowned, suddenly overwhelmed as you looked at the carcass on the porch. “You should prepare that before flies get to it,” you snap, voice coming off more harsh than you intended it too as you glanced at the deer, Soap agreeing with a smile before him and Gaz disappeared out the back door.

It was strange, you weren’t used to sound, especially not the sound of four men. It made your toes curl, heat coiling in your belly both in anxiety… and in more, yet you couldn’t quite place it.

You felt out of place in your own home as you managed to slink out of your room before walking back and forth infront of the stairs, overthinking your entrance.

You weren’t sure why it mattered so much. None of this was permanent. Sure, you had four giant (and good looking) military men laughing and talking in your kitchen. Nothing major.

Your feet graced the stairs as you braced yourself, stomach in tight fits of heat as you entered the kitchen, their voices hushing as they looked at you.

“Hope you don’t mind that we cooked,” Soap quipped, bright smile on his face as he gestured towards the prepared food.

“No, that’s good, thank you,” you say, voice shallow, almost hesitant. They led themselves to the dining room as you paused, glancing towards your half open bag. With five glasses in your hand and a plate of food in the other, you looked down at the heavy bottle wedged in your pants pocket, almost nervous they would drag them down.

You entered and hesitantly placed the glasses on the table along with your food before sitting. Everyone paused for a moment, the room silent before you awkwardly held up the bottle of whiskey, shy smile on your face as they erupted in bashful cheers. You could even almost notice a small smile under Ghost’s mask.

The night felt more fitting now, your body feeling more relaxed and loose as you took a swig out of your glass. Your throat burned for a second, eyes welling with tears as you forced the mixture down your throat before you sighed, heat spreading through your chest as you passed the bottle to Gaz.

“You ain’ told us much about yourself bonnie, let us know who you wer’ before all this shite occurred,” Soap slurred, accent heavier in his slightly drunken state.

You hiccuped, the whiskey making you feel more comfortable as you tried to remember what life was like 297 days ago. “Um, well I turned 24 just before everything began and I worked at a, um, medical centre about four hours from here I guess. My dad owned a restaurant so I worked there occasionally when he needed it but for the most part I lived with my, uh, bestfriend.”

“An’ what happened to her?” Soap blurted as Gaz nudged him, noticing the way your eyes looked down for a second.

“She didn’t make it. She actually,” you paused, “She actually shoved me into a crowd of zombies to escape but uh, I guess it didn’t really work out for her.” You debated telling them that somehow, for some inapplicable reason, you were invisible, immune, to the walking dead. But you didn’t.

“How’d ya survive that?” A gruff voice said as you snapped your eyes to Ghost.

“Don’t know. She had cut her hand open and she was making a lot of noise… guess she looked more edible,” you said, letting out a dry laugh to lighten the mood.

“Doubt that,” Price grumbled, taking a swig as you blushed at his innuendo.

“Um, what about you guys? You were in the military, how was it?”

They laughed.

“It was what it was. We were damn good at it, all of us, I’ll tell you that much,” Price laughed, a hand clamping Ghost’s shoulder for a second before they turned back to you.

You smiled before you looked outside, the dull light above you imposing a low glow across the room. The wind was harshing, rattling against the windows as rain poured down. They followed your gaze as you cleared your throat.

“I can’t send you guys out in that weather,” you began, almost losing your confidence as they looked at you, hopeful gleams on their faces, “you guys are welcome to stay another night, AS LONG as someone wakes up tomorrow and feeds the animals. I would like a sleep in.”

“Aye lass, I’ll do it,” Soap cheered, harsh hand slapping the table as he poured another shout out for everyone. You watched him hold his glass in the air, gesturing that he wanted to cheers before you reluctantly clinked the glasses together, another rowdy chorus coming from both him and Gaz.

You weren’t quite sure what time it was, all you had known was you had been sitting down here, huddled around the dining table drinking and talking for hours. It was calm, entertaining almost.

Gaz was rambling on about a mission they had done a while back, something about terrorists as you slightly zoned out, eyes fixated on the bulging veins running up Ghost’s forearm.

Price cleared his throat as you looked up. “Don’t be zoning out on us bonnie, I was asking if you had a boyfriend,” Soap hiccuped, drunk out of his mind.

“Okay,” you said, dragging out the y, “it is time for me to head to bed. Goodnight everyone.” You heard a chorus of groans as you waved while exiting, subtle smile laced across your face as you stumbled up the stairs.

You changed, tucking yourself in slightly as you closed your blinds. You stilled at the soft knock on the door, the familiar face of Price peaking through before gently opening it fully.

“Hey, love,” he murmured, “Sorry about Soap, lad gets a bit too confident when he’s drunk.”

You looked at him, the heat of the alcohol still pulling in your chest, nestling in the crevice of your belly as you offered him a polite smile.

“It’s okay, wasn’t uncomfortable by anything, just thought it would be my queue to head up.” He nodded in reply. You could feel his hesitation, one foot in the door, the other out as he attempted to conjure something to say.

You stood up, looking up at him as you let out a low breath. No one said anything, both barely moved, bodies parallel, eyes locked. You felt Price push a strand of hair behind your ear, delicate eyes landing on your lips before looking back up.

Your pupils flickered back and forth, looking at him, almost waiting as he did the same before you licked your lips, coating them with a layer of saliva before gently nodding. You didn’t even need to say anything, he knew.

His lips tasted of whiskey, soft beard gently scratching against your cheeks as your teeth kissed. You felt the door shut, his hands reaching down to grope your ass, fingers nimbly digging into the flesh as you both tumbled backwards, lips interlocked.

Your back fell flush against your pillow, rough hands sliding underneath your shirt, mauling at your tits before resting on your nipples, hardened buds puckering through your shirt as he groaned. His hands were desperate as he pulled your top up, sucking in a deep breath as he took in the sight of your bare chest.

“Jesus,” he whispered and you would’ve missed it if you weren’t so focused on his swollen lips, your hands pulling him by the back of the neck into you again. You both groaned against each others mouths, tongues lapping up the taste of each other and the taste of the alcohol that stained your mouths.

Price’s hands grabbed at your chest, fingers rolling your nipples in between each other, a soft gasp leaving your mouth before you watched him pull away, bending down to take one into his mouth.

You let out a guttural groan, your hand slapping across your lips to conceal yourself from making too much noise. He didn’t break eye contact, cerulean voids staring back at you, hands pawing your free breast and your waist, rubbing and kneading.

You felt his hands tugging at your pants, hips raising automatically for him to remove them. Thank God you shaved earlier. He let out a dry laugh, the evident patch of arousal staining your panties a darker shade of grey as you felt his thumb press against the middle, smearing it around.

“Do you want this?” He asked, thumb stilling for a second as he looked at you for any signs of hesitation. You nodded, head bobbing desperately as you bucked your hips for some friction before his hand crashed down, holding you in place.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Y-Yes, yes, I want this,” you rushed out before you let out a gentle whine, thumb pressing against your clothed clit, applying a teasing amount of pressure. You relaxed against the pillow, your neck on display as he took initiative, lips grazing against the tender skin as he sucked and licked, no doubt leaving an obvious mark, a claim.

“Gotta take these off,” he spat, hands gripping at the lace, practically burning the fabric against your skin as he ripped them off. You shut your legs instinctively, a harsh slap landing on your thigh as you yelped. “Keep em open sweetheart.”

Your lips were a mix of breathy whines and soft pants as you felt his lips against your thigh, the prickle of his facial hair adding to your desperation as you bucked your hips, his veiny hand landing on your stomach to hold you in place.

You almost screamed in need as you felt his lip against your clit, merely kissing it before you felt his hand touch over it, your heat most likely radiating off of you before two fingers spread you apart, slick clinging to your sex as you let out a muffled whine of humiliation. You were so bare to his eyes, so exposed. You heard him shudder, eyes looking up at you before back down to your pussy, clit throbbing in anticipation.

The guttural sound that escape your mouth when you felt his tongue lick a stripe of your slit was borderline embarrassing as your thighs clamped around his head. Price’s tongue was impetuous as he licked, slurping up whatever he could taste of you as you bucked and whined.

Clammy hands pawed at your tits as he watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he lapped like a madman. You felt him everywhere, the taste of him in your mouth, his hands on your chest and his lips on your wet cunt, eating as if it was his last meal.

You hadn’t felt this good in - ever. It took 24 years of your life and an apocalypse to finally get your pussy ate right.

You mewled at the overwhelming sensation, the coil quickly building up in your belly, aggravated to release as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking, as you nearly screamed in pure ecstasy. You were a sight of pathetic moans, hips greedily grinding against his face as you reached your high.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you whined as you felt his tongue dive back down, plunging at your leaking hole, nose rubbing against your sensitive bud as you whined, the overwhelming feeling of him pulling at your nipples sending you into an overdrive as you threw your head back.

Your back arched, head throwing itself back along with your eyes as your legs shook. You could feel your pussy clenching around his tongue as rough skin met your clit, pinching slightly as you squealed, your body wracking with overstimulation.

“That’s it baby, take what you need,” he groaned against your sex, tongue continuing to lap at your newly spilling juices, strings of your slick coating his beard and moustache just like you imagined it that first night.

You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance before you gasped, the stretch of his two fingers (equaling probably 3.. maybe 4 of yours) burned through your body as you felt his other hand moving circles around your twitching clit, the need to orgasm already coaxing through you again at the overstimulation.

His fingers moved slowly, feeling around your gummy walls, searching for your sweet spot before your body jerked. There it was.

It was a continuous movement, rubbing and nudging continuously at the place that had you practically gnawing into your fist. His fingers almost scissoring you open before his mouth latched down again, licking greedily at the flowing slick.

A strings of expletives left your mouth as you gripped his hair, tugging at the roots, your spare hand toying with your own nipples as you watched him fuck you open on his massive digits.

“This what you needed, huh? Needed to be fucked out on someone’s fingers? Did yours make you feel like this baby?” He cooed, tongue lapping lazily against your clit as he watched you shake your head furiously, pants leaving your lips like a dog without water as you chased your second high.

“I’m gonna-“ you began before you practically screamed out, his lips sucking against your clit again, fingers fucking into you at the perfect speed, filling every corner with pure bliss before you were coming again, hips bucking as your legs vibrated against his shoulders, a small line of drool pooling out of your lips as he fingered you through your orgasm.

“Just like that love, such a good fucking girl.” His voice was almost a growl, fingers slowing down as he slurped, his head resting against your thigh as he watched your fucked out expression.

He didn’t stop, his movements only becoming more gentle before you whined, nudging his head away at the overstimulation. You felt empty when he pulled his fingers out as you looked down at your pussy, your clit swollen, the crevice of your ass coated with your slick, a soft pool leaking onto your blankets.

The bed jerked as he got up, the leaky sound of the tap opening almost startling you before he came back. “Open em love,” he murmured as you obliged. The damp towelette soothed you as he wiped you up, cleaning you up before chucking it in the bath. “Can wash that tomorrow,” he hummed before looking at you, still standing.

“Did you want me to le-“

You shook your head, cutting him off. “Need to take you up on that offer of keeping me warm. Is that ok?”

“More than.”

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader + piss kink

you love following toji around the house while talking his ears off. he's making his coffee and you're drinking, telling him about the book you've been reading. he's watching the tv and you're curled on his lap, whispering fun facts about the movie that's playing on the screen. he's doing pushups and you're laying down beside him, counting his reps for him (you mess up the numbers just to have him roll his eyes at you with a smirk.)

whatever room he's in – you're there. he can't get rid of you but it's not like he even wants that. he likes the attention, he loves how much you want his. and he loves listening you, so he really doesn't mind. he thinks of you like a little kitten, jogging after him the second he pushes himself off the couch. it's sweet.

until���

he marches into the bathroom and you're right on his heel, rambling about your day. toji looks at you through the mirror, curious as to when you're going to realize that you're now in the bathroom with him. but he doesn't say anything other than a little raspy "yeah?" at whatever you just said.

he stands in front of the toilet and raises the lid while watching you plop down onto the counter right next to him without a care in the world. he raises a brow, his scarred lip quirking up into a sly smirk.

your eyes are on him. you're smiling, too.

you know exactly what you're doing.

toji's hands unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, all while keeping eye-contact. he wants to see how far you're willing to go.

you don't stop talking; cocking your head to the side and leaning forward, you tempt him. he doesn't miss the way your thighs press together and the way you bite down on your lip. you're not smooth at all. that only makes him love you even more – you're just as nasty as he is.

it's getting harder and harder to keep your eyes on his now though... he has pulled down his pants and underwear and you wanna look at it. your sentences are drawn out, your words are starting to mix up.

"c'mon, keep going."

you wanna hate how smug he is. how cocky, how arrogant. but you can't, because the only thing you can think about right now is taking his fat cock balls deep down your throat. your lips part at the thought and toji groans under his breath.

sweetly fluttering your eyelashes at him, you continue mumbling about your day. you can't surpress the hum that crawls up from the depths of your stomach when you finally hear the steady stream of piss hitting the toilet bowl.

you break eye-contact and his chest swells with pride. he can hear your breath hitch, he can almost see your mouth salivate.

"well, aren't you a little pervert, hm?"

your gazes meet again and he expects you to pout at him like you usually do, but no – not this time. lips curling up in a syrupy, sugary way, you purr at him. "ya love it."

toji growls. you're trying to kill him, surely. your eyes are low but still as playful as ever, your thighs pressing together even harder to relieve the growing need between them.

his eyebrows raise when you suddenly jump off the counter and take your place right beside him. eyes glued to his, you blindly reach for his hardening cock. tugging at the nape of his neck with your free hand, you pull him down and press your lips against his. you feel him grin, you feel him twitch in your hand.

he's so warm and he's so big; you give him a few slow, lazy strokes before tucking him back inside his underwear. he tries to pull away from the kiss, clearly a little confused by your actions, but you don't let him.

you nip at his bottom lip and he groans into your mouth. you give his now clothed bulge two very light taps and then you're the one that's pulling away, leaving him chasing after you.

giving him a giggle, you back up and jump back onto the counter. he can't believe you – you really are a little minx, sitting pretty before him while he's now hard and needy with new, hot ideas flooding his mind.

he wants to know what other dirty things you're thinking about, what other fucked up things you'll do for him. what he'll do for you.

— you're in for a long, long night.

[catboyieejeno]

bf! intak who falls asleep on your shoulder during car rides and plane rides instead of the other way around. probably drools a little too, but you don’t have it in you to wake him up because his eyes are half opened and his cheek is completely smooshed. so endearing, it would be a crime to disturb him :(

bf! intak who blushes furiously when you kiss his cheek. kisses on the lips are phenomenal, and they are his absolute favorite—but there’s something so sweet about you giving him a kiss on the cheek, especially when you have to stand on your tippy toes and rest your hands on his chest.

proceeds to hold your hands where they rest, looking down to hide the flustered, dorky smile that takes over his features.

“one more” he’ll ask, giving you the softest, pleading eyes. “please?”

bf! intak who blows raspberries on your tummy, and kisses it after. who also has a habit of playing with your fingers, or your rings if you’re wearing any. who has to be touching you at all times, whether it’s a hand on your hip, or your knee, or the small of your back. has to be touching you, and if he isn’t because you’re not nearby, he’ll perk his head up, and look around until he spots you. jogs over and fits his hand into yours with a kiss to your knuckles, mumbling “i was wondering where you went :(“ “but it’s okay!” he beams “cause i found you!”

bf! intak who wakes you up by accident every morning when his lips press into your shoulder or your neck or your jaw. the funny thing is: he’s still asleep. he’s kissing you and nuzzling into you in his sleep with his warm cheek pressing against yours and his hair tickling your face. his arm pulls you tighter to him when you stir, and finally, he wakes up when you stretch, in fear that you actually meant to get up.

“don’t get up yet… please, you’re s’warm..”

“intak, baby, i was just stretching.”

“come closer >:(“

scowls but with his eyes closed until you’re completely wrapped around him and under the mountain of blankets again.

bf! intak who always insists on showering with you. 9/10 times, he’s in there with you, and 6/10 times, it isn’t even sexual. he’s making a mohawk out of your hair with shampoo, and molding his own hair to match with a silly grin on his face. he’s scrubbing your face wash lovingly onto your cheeks and kissing your nose as you smile up at him (then proceeds to wash his face like a MAN all rough and crazy, which earns him a bit of a scolding from you). he holds you under the water and steals little pecks as the water bill gets higher and higher (at this point, you would’ve saved more water taking separate showers).

if you guys are playing music he’s singing loudly between giggles and designating parts so that you guys can put on a little concert. If there’s no music then he’s bickering with you about how you’re hogging the hot water, so he pushes you out of the way. only stays there for a few seconds though, cause the thought of you being cold makes his heart break a little. switches sides with you again with a little feigned annoyance, but even when you insist you aren’t cold he convinces you to stay under the hot stream.

bf! intak who tries his best to cook for you, following recipes of foods you’ve liked to the very last detail. refuses to let you help, but will allow you to sit on the counter as his personal cheerleader so he can steal a kiss or two or ten as he works.

is so careful to measure everything right, letting you try it along the way (only after he’s approved of the taste himself). watches for your reaction so so eagerly and smiles SO big if you say it’s good.

bf! intak who loves being praised by you. sometimes even fishes for compliments because any kind of approval from makes his heart so full and makes him feel so loved! “don’t i look handsome today?” or “did i do a good job?”

whether you compliment his outfit or his looks, or you simply tell him thank you for something, he’s over the moon

bf! intak who is has such a huge heart and gives it over to you completely. it’s yours! so don’t break it. falls first and falls harder, from the very first moment he sees you is so whipped. willing to give you absolutely everything and anything you want.

is so gentle, so considerate, so caring, so intak.

truly your best friend & lover all in one.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Note: The fic gets a bit saucy, so A18+ ONLY just to be safe!

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out

CW: MDNI!, kissing, making out, boobs, fondling, romance, sexual tension, semi-spicy scenes, lemon

Link to My Master List

Its mid-afternoon in the UA library. The early Spring sunlight is streaming through the tall windows and across the sci-fi novel you're flipping through. You sigh; content to finally have a Saturday off after a grueling few weeks of classes, training and internship activities.

You think back to a particularly tough training session that had taken place the day before - you had finally kicked Shoto Todoroki's ass in front of the whole class. You smile as you remember the shocked look on his face as you reached down to help him back to his feet.

"You had it coming, hot stuff." You winked as he grabbed your hand and let you pull him back to standing position. His face had flushed red in humiliation at the loss.

You're suddenly jerked out of your reverie when a figure looms over you, casting a long shadow on the desk before you. You turn, startled. As if pulled from your daydream, Shoto Todoroki has materialized before you – tall and handsome. You look up at him in surprise, mouth half open.

"I think we should kiss." Shoto's deep voice says above you, his tone neutral.

"Huh?" Your mouth drops fully open. Shoto is looking down at you with eyes alight with determination. That cute blush is back - splashed across his pale cheeks and across his aristocratic nose.

"I was thinking back to our fight yesterday, and the reason why I lost. It was because I was thinking about kissing you the whole time. I let myself get distracted. I think that if we kissed, I could get over it and refocus on training." So matter-of-fact! That was one thing you liked about Shoto - he was straightforward.

"Um...okay." With an effort, you close your gaping mouth. You’re absolutely dumbfounded. Shoto has never shown any romantic interest in you before. You’ve never caught wandering eyes on you in class, he’s never stashed a love note in your locker. None of the typical school love tropes have been leveraged here. If anything, the two of you are loose acquaintances on the cusp of being friends. Maybe a few more months of class and group activities together would have helped you bridge the gap and fully form a decent friendship.

You wonder if he’s been into you all this time, or if this is just a whim he’s exploring. Either way - who are you to let an opportunity to kiss a hot guy go by the wayside? You snap your book shut and stand. "You want to do this right now?"

Shoto nods, and turns to walk away with the expectation that you’ll follow. You get up and sweep your things into your bag, heart beating double time. You quickly jog to catch up with Shoto – he’s already out the door. The two of you walk across the UA grounds in silence, your footsteps falling into a soft rhythm.  Your mind is going at a million miles per minute – could this all be an elaborate prank? Shoto has never struck you as the type to play a cruel joke on a classmate. Quite the opposite – when he’s not training he seems so soft and sweet. He strikes you as more of an introvert than anything else. He keeps people at a safe distance. You’ve always been under the impression that when it comes to Shoto, trust is earned, not freely given.

You wonder if this kissing business means that you’ve earned a bit of that trust? Who’s to say.

“So…” you say, attempting to break the tension. “Where are we going?” 

Shoto looks back at you, confused. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re going to my dorm room.”

“Oh.” You pause. “Wouldn’t that be a bit inappropriate? Like, what if someone catches us kissing in your dorm room? Won’t we get in trouble?”

“I’ll lock the door.” He says sensibly. “It’s no one’s business but ours.”

“Huh.”

“Oh – I think I understand what you’re getting at.” He runs a hand through his hair reflexively. “It’s no wonder you’re one of the top members of the class. A good hero always has a strategy. So we should come up with an alibi.” He brings his thumb to his chin as he stares into space, pondering.

“If someone catches us, I can say that I experimentally froze my lips with my power and that I asked you to help me warm them up. Naturally, the best way to do so was with your lips.” He turns to you expectantly to gauge your reaction.

What the actual hell, Shoto.                                                          

“You’re um…you’re fucking with me, right?” You look at him uncertainly. Shoto’s unusually harsh upbringing has caused him to be shockingly literal at times. Your eyes scan his face until the corner of his mouth quirks upwards into a small smile.

“Yes, I am.”

You burst out laughing at the unexpected joke, and his tiny smile grows into a full grin. He likes making you laugh.

“Listen…” He says reassuringly, “No one is going to bother us – it’s such a nice day. I overheard some of the girls saying they were going to take pictures near the campus cherry blossom trees. They roped Midoriya, Ida and a few other classmates into the activity as well. Bakugo, Kirishima and Sero are all training across campus in the gym. We should have at least an hour or two before anyone comes seriously looking for us.”

Wow. That must be the longest group of sentences he’s ever said to you directly.

“You’ve really thought this through.” You say, following him across the threshold of Class 1A’s dorm complex.

He smirks. “I’m strategic.”

You look at him appraisingly. He looks clean and trim in his tailored UA uniform. Aside from the scar surrounding his eye, he has the most perfect skin of anyone in your class. While the rest of your classmates have been stressing about moisturizer and SPF and acne treatments, you’ve watched Shoto sail through his hormonal teens without a skincare care in the world. The skin of his cheeks is the color of porcelain and looks so, so soft and deliciously kissable. His face holds a mixture of determination and apprehension.

You enter the kitchen and common room area of your dorm and see that it’s completely, blessedly empty - odd for a Saturday. Shoto is right - it is one of the first nice spring days on campus. You assume everyone is out enjoying the nice weather as he said. This is a good thing – it means your clandestine meeting with Shoto can stay secret. Everyone in Class 1A can be so nosy sometimes. You’re determined to keep this juicy little secret between the two of you.

He leads you up towards one of the hallways that encompasses the boy’s dorms, pausing in front of his door to fiddle with his key. His usually steady hands are shaking a bit as he turns the lock and pushes open the door to reveal his immaculately clean bedroom with it’s traditional Japanese décor.

You step inside and slide off your shoes, letting your bag drop to the floor.

“I forgot how traditional your space is, Shoto.”

He closes the door behind you and clicks the lock into place before discarding his keys on his desktop. He looks around the dorm room thoughtfully.

“It’s how I grew up. I never really had the chance to develop my own taste or style.”

“Maybe now that you have your own space, you finally can!” You say enthusiastically. “If you’d ever like to go shopping or want help putting together a Pinterest board, Mina and I can definitely help you find some inspiration.”

His flat line of a mouth quirks up into another small smile. “I haven’t really had the time to think about anything other than school work and the L.o.V. since we moved into the dorms. Maybe you’re right – this could be an opportunity to broaden my horizons. See what I like.”

“Yeah! There are so many fun ways you can bring more of yourself into this space. We can start with a throw pillow.” You say knowledgably, pulling up the Pinterest app on your phone. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

You type the color into the search bar, and immediately the screen is flooded with hundreds of different shades of blue throw pillows – all kinds of patterns and sayings and beading and embroidery. You hand him your phone and encourage him to scroll through the options.

“I’m sure we can find something that makes you feel like you.”

His eyes soften a bit as he takes the phone from you, intrigued. He scrolls through the colorful images, overwhelmed by the options. After a few minutes of careful deliberation, he finally stops and double taps a picture, hyperlinking to a website.

“This. This feels like it could be me.” He sends himself the link so he can purchase the pillow later. He hands back your phone and you take a curious look – the image he’s drawn to is a long rectangle of fabric shaped like a whale. It has navy blue stripes along with a small curved tale and button eyes sewn on. You look up and see that the tips of Shoto’s ears are bright red.

“This isn’t what I was expecting – but I see now that it suits you perfectly.” You say, picturing the whale pillow in his room – a dash of whimsy against the otherwise stuffy outdated décor.  He practically glows at the compliment. You realize that this is likely one of the first times someone is validating a choice he has made for himself. You cough and toss your phone into your discarded bag – the moment feels oddly intimate.

Shoto’s eyes scan across your face and he speaks his next words slowly, almost deliberately. “This is what I’ve always liked about you, y/n. You always seem to know what to say to get someone to smile or to open up. Admirable traits in a future hero.” You feel your own face heating up at the sweet compliment. Shoto has never given you so much direct attention outside of class, and it’s exciting and almost unnerving to have those two intense eyes focused in entirely on you.

“Thank you Shoto, that’s a very kind thing to say.” You suddenly realize how very close Shoto’s face is to your own. He’s only a few breaths away. Shoto is a few inches taller than you, so you need to crane your neck in order to get the full picture of his beautiful face. You wonder nervously if he expects you to initiate – should you reach out and grab his face? Your heart starts beating much too fast and you see his intense eyes dart down to your lips, wanting. You take a step closer to him, leaning up to meet his face, and…

“Let’s get started.” He says abruptly, breaking the moment. He walks over to his closet and pulls out his bedroll, hastily moving to set up his sleeping space so that you’ll have a comfortable place to sit. Once he sets up the space, he takes a seat on the soft mattress and motions for you to join him. This wasn’t really what you were expecting, but you remember that Shoto is pretty sheltered. He clearly has a plan in mind here, so you decide to let him take the lead.

“Alright, before we start – I just want you to know that we can stop at any point you’d like. I want you to be comfortable here, so please let me know if at any time you feel like you don’t want to continue. Ok?”

You nod, appreciating the dialogue and Shoto’s forethought surrounding consent.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Leaning his head back, he exhales slowly through his nostrils. After a moment of deep breathing, his eyes flutter open. “It’s an exercise my father taught me for clearing my nerves before a battle.” He explains as he runs a nervous hand through his two-toned hair.

“Are you anticipating a battle here?” You tease, reaching over to place your hand on his thigh. Shoto eyes the hand curiously before matching your gaze.

“Of course not. But surprisingly – I have the same feeling of anxiety now that I usually have right before a sparring match.” His expression is stone cold serious, not even the hint of a joke this time.

“I understand that. It’s nerve wracking to kiss a person for the first time.” You quickly double back on your words. “N-not that I’m implying that this is your first kiss or anything, I-”

Shoto blinks. “Oh – this is my first kiss. I thought it was fairly obvious.”

“Oh! Oh, Todoroki – I didn’t realize!” You trip over your words a bit and it brings out a soft smile in Shoto.

“I think that’s why I’ve been so distracted lately. Once I know how it feels, maybe then I can move on and focus back on my training and studies. Is this not your first kiss?” He tilts his head to the side, questioning. You see no hint of jealousy in his eyes – he’s legitimately curious.

“N-no. I’ve kissed a few people before. Never anything serious! Just here and there at summer camp.” You smile weakly, face burning. Shoto nods appreciatively at your candid answer.

“That makes sense – you’re very competent at everything you do. And very attractive.” This last part brings a blush across Shoto’s pale cheeks. “I had assumed there were plenty of people who have wanted to be kissed by you.” The compliment is unexpected and it makes a laugh bubble up your throat. You start giggling and Shoto seems taken by surprise.

“Did I say something funny?”

“No – no! You’re just so sincere and sweet and I am so nervous right now. Shoto you’re competent and attractive, too. I hope that you know that!” This brings his smile back out again, like the sunshine after a long rainstorm.

“Why don’t we just get it over with, then? I’ve read a few articles and studied some movies and…well, I think I’m as prepared as I can be.” Shoto’s face is so open and earnest your heart squeezes in your chest. He studied for this??

Slowly, carefully, Shoto reaches out a delicate hand to cradle the side of your face. He scoots somewhat awkwardly closer to you, but the rest of his movements hold his typical grace. He leans forward, eyes half closed, and brings his lips to your own.

You dip your head to receive the kiss, and you feel his soft lips melt against yours. You close your eyes and revel in the feeling of his mouth. Everything about him is soft and electric at the same time – the points where your bodies are connected feel charged with some kind of buzzing energy that leaves your breathless. And just as soon as it’s begun – it’s over. A brief peck, a stolen moment in time. Shoto pulls away from you, eyes wide, as he catches his breath.

“So?” You ask, trying for nonchalance but failing when you realize your voice is just a hoarse whisper. “What did you think?”

“It’s…” Shoto looks at you thoughtfully, touching his fingers to his tingling lips. “It wasn’t what I was expecting. I just feel like I want to do it more – like I need to keep going.”

You laugh – “Did you really think you’d want to stop after your first kiss?” Shoto shrugs, unwilling to answer the question.

“Can we kiss again? Please. If you’d like to, that is?” He asks, and you note the want in his voice. You’ve never heard Shoto Todoroki sound desperate for anything in his life before this moment. You’re surprised at how he sounds fairly desperate for you.

You smile at him and lean in close, bringing your foreheads together. You can feel different temperatures playing across his skin as he works to keep his quirk in check as excitement roars across his body.

“Follow my lead, lover-boy.” You whisper, before crashing your lips together. You move at a faster pace this time, showing him how to slide his mouth against yours to have a proper make out. He picks it up quickly and absolutely relishes in it. His eyes are closed and his hands find either side of your face again. You let him hold you like that for a few minutes before you decide to take the reigns a bit more. You reach out to place a hand on his chest and softly push him away from you.

“Here – this will make things a lot easier.” You stand up and move to straddle him, slowly sliding into his lap and wrapping your legs around his back. You place his hands on your waist and wind your arms around his neck. “Comfortable?” He nods, his eyes blown wide and almost glassy with lust.

“This is okay?” He asks, looking down at the way his hands grip your hips.

“Absolutely. You’re going to want them there for leverage.”

“Leverage?” He asks weakly, his eyes trained on your lips.

“You’ll see.” You smile deviously as you take in how absolutely undone Shoto looks. “Okay, next step – have you done any research on French kissing?”

Shoto nods again, looking a bit uncertain. “I watched a romantic comedy online and at the end the main couple kissed that way.”

“Well it’s super easy – I’ll walk you through it.” You tilt your head towards his and melt your lips back together, starting out with a slow and soft kiss. As he begins to get comfortable with the pace of your kissing, you move to deepen it – running the tip of your tongue across his lips. He naturally opens his mouth to you, and you move so that your tongues meet. You guide him into a light dance, your kisses becoming more frantic as your mouths and tongues collide. This brings out a ferocity in Shoto that you hadn’t expected, and you feel his hands grip your hips with almost bruising force. You groan, turned on by the contact. You automatically rock your hips into his and he stills at the motion. You blush as you realize that you can feel Shoto’s dick becoming hard beneath you. Shit.

His hands fly off of your hips and he sits back, mortified.

“I’m so sorry-” you start to say as he runs his hand anxiously through his hair again. Shoto takes a deep breath and looks at you, eyes still fuzzy.

“Don’t be sorry! That was amazing, I just…didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He looks down between you pointedly. He doesn’t want you to get freaked out by the fact that he’s got a boner.

“Oh I’m not uncomfortable at all! Actually, quite the opposite.” This answer makes Shoto’s sculpted eyebrows fly up into his hair.

“Really?” He whispers.

“Yeah. It’s actually really hot.” You reach down and take his hands in yours, moving them back to your hips. You make piercing eye contact with Shoto as you roll your hips experimentally again – feeling his hardness even through your clothes. He groans at the contact this time, a soft sound that is just: So. Goddamn. Hot.

You grind against him again, picking up a steady rhythm as Shoto enthusiastically moves your hips. Struck by sudden inspiration, you lean forward to kiss a sloppy line up his neck. This draws a moan from Shoto that you weren’t expecting – low and sweet. You smile as you continue to kiss his neck, using your tongue when you find a particularly sensitive spot beneath his ear.

Shoto grabs your face with one hand and tilts your head up before crashing his lips back into yours. His kisses are heated and passionate as he bounces you on his lap, making you both see stars. You’re so wet you can feel yourself soaking through your panties. You pray that your school uniform pants won’t get damp beneath you – how embarrassing would that be?! At the same time - you don’t give a damn; Shoto’s mouth and his hands and his dick feel far too good. At the moment kissing Shoto Todoroki feels like the only thing you were put on this goddamn earth to do.

Tentatively, you feel Shoto’s hands wander up from your hips. You moan into his mouth as his hands find your breasts. “How is this?” He whispers hoarsely, running delicate fingertips across the peaks of your breasts. “Is this okay? I can stop if you want me to.” You moan your consent enthusiastically, and when he begins to softly knead your boobs over your shirt, your hormones fully take the wheel.

You hop off your classmate so you can quickly unbutton your shirt – your tie flying off as you work. Shoto remains sitting on the floor and does the same with his own uniform. In a moment he is sitting shirtless and beautiful before you, chest heaving as he works to catch his breath. He stares at you with bright eyes as you stand above him in nothing but a bra and UA’s uniform slacks. He has never seen a woman with so little clothing on before, and he is in awe.

You kneel down beside him on the bedroll and reach out to touch his perfect body. Your hand hovers above his perfectly sculpted abs and you look up at him, eyes asking permission. He nods, giving you his blessing to touch. You smooth your fingertips lightly across the defined planes of his chest and abs, marveling in all that he is. Your palm comes to rest against his chest and you feel his heartbeat – a quick staccato beneath your delicate hand. You push him lightly so that he moves to lie on the ground before you.

“You alright with all this?” You whisper, moving slowly to straddle him on the ground.

“If I get to have you on top of me again – absolutely.” And he grins – a genuine smile that radiates comfort. You’ve never seen a look like that before on Shoto’s face and it stops you in your tracks. You just want to bask in the glow of the rare gift of his beaming face.

After a moment, you collect yourself and move so that you’re on all fours and hovering over him. You shiver – you’ve never been so close to someone in this way before. He seems to notice your hesitation.

“You look cold – do you want to grab a blanket?” He reaches up and runs his hands up and down your arms, giving you more goose bumps. You nod, and he reaches to grab a thick grey knit blanket that’s folded neatly to your left. He pulls you down to lay on top of him and easily casts the blanked across your intertwined bodies. The knit feels luxurious and expensive – and it smells deliciously like Shoto. A scent that’s a mixture of sandalwood and fresh sheets wafts around you. It’s comfortable and warm and you feel so, so happy to be sharing this moment with Shoto.

He wraps his arms around you and feels himself get hard again at the delicate feeling of your bare skin against his own. He pulls you in for a kiss – and this time the passion is slow, sensual. You’ve never kissed someone like this before – like you have all the time in the world. He moves his hands up and down your bare back beneath the blanket – warming you up. He’s keeping his ice quirk at bay – both of his hands are the perfect temperature as they run across your soft, supple skin. His hands come to rest on your lower back as he moves to experimentally kiss down your collarbone.

“Oh! Oh, Shoto, yes.” Is all you can say. The use of his given name seems to turn him on even more, because his kisses become sloppier and he runs the edge of his teeth against your skin. He continues to kiss down your shoulder, pausing for only a moment in order to roll you both over so that he can have a turn on top. You gasp at the sudden movement – the dynamics have unexpectedly shifted and Shoto is in total control.

He gazes down at you, shifting the blanket so that it doesn’t get tangled between your bodies.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says, a note of wonder in his voice. “Your skin is so soft…I never realized how great it would be to touch you.” He runs a light fingertip across the delicate skin of your neck and across the expanse of your collarbone. He watches as he runs his finger down the slope of one of your breasts, stopping when he meets the soft cotton of your bra.

“Can we take this off?” He whispers, moving to palm your breast over the delicate white material. You nod, and prop yourself up so you can reach behind yourself to unclip the clothing. With a light “pop!” the bra clip comes undone and Shoto helps you discard the item. He takes in your breasts with a look of absolute amazement and cautiously reaches out to touch them. He gently runs the palm of his hand across your right breast experimentally. You gasp at the contact, and he nervously glances at your face to make sure you’re not in any discomfort. You smile at him, encouraging him to keep going. He kneads the breast in his strong hand a few times before experimentally rolling his thumb over your nipple. You gasp at the contact as pleasure surges through you – you had no idea you were so sensitive. Shoto repeats the motion, earning a soft moan. He smiles at the praise – unexpectedly mischievous as he moves so that he’s kneeling over you, able to tackle a breast with each hand. He goes to work pinching and massaging and rolling your breasts between deft fingers, drawing the sweetest sounds from your mouth.

“Shoto!” You cry out as he moves to spread more kisses across your neck as his left hand plays with one of your breasts. You reach down and squeeze the muscular plane of his ass, begging him to grind into you. He gets the message loud and clear – moving against you gently so that you can feel his hardness graze against you.

He’s causing so many delicious sensations across your body with his lips, hands, hips, groin – it’s almost too much. You feel like you might drown in him when suddenly –

A knock on the door causes you both to still.

“Todoroki?” Mr. Aizawa’s voice is muffled behind the door. You’re both rigid with fear. Shoto’s lips are at your neck and his breath tickles your bare skin. Your fist is tightly squeezed around his left ass cheek. You stare at the ceiling as you start to panic, wondering wildly what you’re supposed to do in this situation. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

Mr. Aizawa knocks on the door again. “Todoroki – your father is here to see you.”

“My father?!” Shoto blurts out before he can stop himself. He scrambles off of you and looks around in a panic. “Why’s my father here?”

The walls seem to be thinner than you thought, because Mr. Aizawa supplies an answer from the other side of the locked door.

“Endeavor had a press conference at a hotel down the road this morning. He wanted to check in and discuss internships. I left him waiting in the common area. I’ll be in my office if you want to grab any internship paperwork while he’s here. I wouldn’t keep him waiting, kid.”

“Of course – thank you Mr. Aizawa!” Todoroki calls through the door awkwardly, listening as your teacher’s footsteps recede into the distance.

You and Shoto stare at each other in absolute horror.

“Do you think he heard us? Do you think h-he knows?” You whisper, panic lacing your voice.

Shoto shakes his head no as he gathers up his shirt and shakily tries to re-button it. “No – I don’t think he was out there long enough to hear anything incriminating.”

You let out a breath of anxious air, reaching for your discarded bra. “Thank goodness.” You re-clip your bra and shrug on your shirt.

“Endeavor is here?” You eye Shoto with concern as he dawns his tie and straightens his hair in a wall mirror on the back of his door.

“My old man likes to pop up at inconvenient times.” Content with his hair, he looks down at you. You’ve started to fold up his blanked and bedroll, patting down your own hair along the way.

“We should probably talk about what just happened…” He starts to say, but you shush him as you hear heavy footsteps coming from down the hall.

“Shoto!” A booming voice rings through the hallway, sending shivers up your spine. The heavy footsteps come to a stop right outside Shoto’s dorm door. The doorknob rattles as someone tries the lock. “How dare you keep me waiting!”

“I’ll be out in a minute, old man!” Shoto calls back bitingly. He glares at the door, thankful for the meager lock. He turns to look at you, and his eyes fill with panic. You scan the room for a place to hide – there is absolutely nowhere to conceal yourself in Shoto’s sparse, plain room.

Suddenly, you’re struck with inspiration – you point to the window. Shoto nods in agreement, dashing to grab your things from where they lay abandoned at the threshold of the door.

Quietly, you pad over to the window and pull back the curtains by a foot. You unlatch the window and slide it softly open before hoisting yourself into the wide window frame. It’s lucky you’re not afraid of heights – because Todoroki’s room is on the fifth floor. There is a small escape ladder for fire emergencies (you smile at the irony of Endeavor being the fire emergency in this case). You move to settle your feet on the top rung of the ladder, with plans to climb your way back to the ground so you can re-enter the dorm building from the back.

Shoto leans out the window and hangs your messenger bag around your shoulder.

“Find me later so we can discuss this.” He says, looking apprehensively over his shoulder as his father continues to bang on the door and callout his name. “I’m sorry this ended with you having to sneak out the window like some sort of criminal.”

“Ah, it’s no big deal! Makes it more exciting.” You grin and he smiles back. He leans forward and presses a small kiss to the corner of your mouth before moving back to close the window.

As he slides the glass closed, he says to you “I don’t think this is going to help me refocus. If anything, I’m more distracted than ever.” You give him a wink as he shuts the window soundly, drawing the curtains to cover your escape.

Hastily, you climb down 5 stories worth of thin metal ladder, landing gracefully in the soft spring grass. You walk to the dorm’s back entrance and let yourself in, walking past the laundry room and up towards the common area. Mina waves at you as she tosses some clothes into the washing machine, and you say a silent prayer thanking the powers that be that none of your friends had come looking for you while you spent your blissful hour hidden away, half-naked and moaning, in Shoto Todoroki’s room.

You climb the stairs two at a time until you hear the voice of the Number 2 Hero grumbling in the common area. Curious, you peak around the corner to see Shoto and his father seated on one of the couches, sorting through paperwork. Shoto has a dead look behind his eyes as his father lectured him about the importance of networking. He nods blankly a few times before his eyes catch sight of your small frame hiding around the corner. His entire face softens at the sight of you. Endeavor notices and turns to see what’s captured his son’s attention.

“You there! Are you a member of Class 1A?” He booms out, almost polite in his delivery. You walk out into the room, drawing yourself up to your full height.

“Dad – this is my classmate Y/N. She lives on the girl’s side of the dorm. Her quirk is extremely powerful.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Endeavor.” You say, trying not to blush at Shoto’s compliment. Endeavor waves you off with a fiery hand.

“Ah, that’s right. I recognize you from the Sport’s Festival. Your quirk and fighting style were both quite impressive.” He looks at you appraisingly. “Are you a close friend of Shoto’s?” 

“She is.” Shoto answers smoothly. “Actually, she’s been tutoring me a bit lately on some techniques I’m not familiar with. She’s a greatteacher.” The subtext is not lost on you.

“Surely you don’t need help in your studies, Shoto. You’re at the top of your class.” Endeavor says gruffly, looking to his son for further explanation.

“Just showing him a few moves I picked up in one of my martial arts classes, sir! Shoto picks up new techniques like a Pro.”

Endeavor seems mollified by this answer. “Of course he does. He’s on track to become the best of the best.” The hero claps his hand on Shoto’s shoulder proudly, and you smile weakly at the discomfort that flashes across Shoto’s eyes.

“Well – I’ll let you both get back to your work! Shoto – if you want to practice those techniques again later, I’ll be in the library until 8 tonight.”

You see Shoto ever so slightly lick his bottom lip. His face is tinged with the lightest of blushes.

“Got it. I’ll see you there, Y/N.”

You have a feeling that Shoto isn’t going to be able to focus on his studies for quite some time.

----------------------------------

Here are all the currently released chapters of Shoto's First Kiss!

Shoto's First Kiss Series:

Part 1: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋

Part 2: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Part 3: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 3

Part 4: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 4

Part 5: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 5

Part 6: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 6

🔥 Link to My Master List 🔥

[amirasainz]

Hi! I love your blog!! Can I request a female driver x f1 grid, where she gets her first win and all the drivers are so happy for her as she’s the paddock princess, maybe when she’s doing her interviews many drivers come over to her and congratulate her and they talk highly of her in their interviews too? Thank u, keep up the amazing work!!💗

Ohh, that is such a sweet idea. This one made my heart melt.🫠❤️

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo

The first victory

The sun hung low over the track, painting the sky in hues of gold and orange as the final lap of the race came to a thrilling conclusion. The Aston Martin car, gleaming in its iconic green, roared down the straightaway with unmatched speed. All eyes were on Y/N, the team's rising star and the paddock's beloved princess. As she crossed the finish line, the world erupted with cheers.

"Y/N wins her first race!" the commentator's voice boomed over the loudspeakers. "What a sensational performance! Y/N takes her maiden victory, and it's Aston Martin on top!"

Inside her cockpit, Y/N could hardly believe it. She was overwhelmed with a rush of adrenaline, relief, and sheer joy. Her radio buzzed with the jubilant voice of her race engineer, Michaela.

"Y/N, you did it! You won! That was incredible! You are a race winner!"

Y/N couldn't contain her emotions. "Oh my god, we did it! We actually did it! Thank you so much, team! The car was perfect today. I can't believe this!" Her voice broke with happy tears as she crossed the finish line.

As she pulled into parc fermé, she could already see the sea of green uniforms waiting for her. The Aston Martin crew, usually composed and professional, was now a mass of cheering, fist-pumping celebration. She parked her car and clambered out, pulling off her helmet to reveal her beaming face. The noise was deafening; her team surrounded her, lifting her onto their shoulders as if she were royalty.

"Y/N! Y/N!" they chanted, their pride and admiration radiating.

Michaela, her race engineer, hugged her tightly. "You were flawless out there. Absolutely flawless."

Y/N, still catching her breath, grinned. "I couldn’t have done it without you guys. This one is for all of us!"

Before she could process what was happening, the other drivers began streaming in, each wanting to congratulate her on this monumental achievement. Lewis was the first to arrive, jogging over and giving her a massive hug.

"Well done, princess!" Lewis grinned, using the nickname the entire paddock had affectionately given her. "That was some of the best driving I’ve ever seen. You deserved this more than anyone."

Y/N laughed, playfully punching him on the shoulder. "Thank you, Lewis. That means a lot coming from you."

Max, who finished in third, made his way over next, pulling Y/N into a hug. "That was incredible, kid! I was pushing so hard to catch you, but you were just too fast. That last stint? Perfect."

Y/N’s smile widened. "Max, you kept me on my toes the whole race. I kept looking in my mirrors and thinking, ‘Please, not today!’" They both laughed, a shared camaraderie between rivals.

Charles joined the growing circle, clapping his hands before enveloping Y/N in a warm embrace. "You did it! You showed everyone today what you’re made of. I’m so proud of you, chéri."

Pierre Gasly chimed in, giving her a quick side hug. "You’re amazing, Y/N. It’s been a long time coming, and today was your day. You’re unstoppable."

Y/N was overwhelmed by the affection and admiration pouring in from all sides. Every driver in the paddock had a soft spot for her, and today, they all showed it without reservation.

Her interviews began shortly after, and as she spoke, drivers kept wandering over, interrupting to offer their congratulations. Daniel, always the joker, nudged her as he walked by, wearing a wide grin. "You know, if you keep driving like that, I’m going to have to start calling you Queen Y/N."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, stop it, Danny. But thank you. That means a lot."

As she continued with her media duties, the praise didn’t stop. George in his own interview, couldn't help but beam when asked about her performance. "Y/N is not just a phenomenal driver; she’s an incredible person. She works so hard, and seeing her finally get that win... I think we’re all just so happy for her. She’s truly the paddock princess."

Checo added in his segment, "She’s shown time and time again that she’s got what it takes. To see her standing on the top step today, it’s special. She’s the pride of the paddock."

Especially Fernando, one of the most experienced drivers on the grid, was full of admiration. "She’s a star. I’ve said it from the beginning. She’s got the talent, the dedication, and today, she put it all together perfectly. This is just the start for her."

When it was finally Y/N’s turn to address the cameras, she tried to keep her composure, but the emotions were too overwhelming. "I just want to thank my team, my family, and every single person who’s supported me. It’s been a tough journey, but today… today made it all worth it."

As she spoke, Carlos and Lando popped into her interview, both grinning ear to ear.

Lando, ever the playful one, said, "Y/N, you’ve got to teach us how to drive like that. Seriously, we’re all just trying to catch up to you now."

Carlos nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we’re going to need some lessons. You’re the real deal, hermosa."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Stop it, you guys! But honestly, thank you. You all mean the world to me."

The drivers couldn’t hide their affection. They each gave her one last hug, congratulating her again before letting her continue. Even in their own interviews, her name was on everyone’s lips.

Lewis, when asked about Y/N’s victory, said, "She’s a trailblazer. There’s no other way to put it. The way she carries herself, her determination—she’s an inspiration, not just to women in motorsport but to all of us. She’s the paddock princess, and today, she proved why."

Max added, "She’s one of the most dedicated drivers out here. We all see how hard she works, and to see her win... it just feels right. We’re all proud of her."

The day was a celebration, not just for Aston Martin, but for the entire paddock. Y/N had earned every bit of praise, every hug, and every kind word. As the cameras clicked and the champagne flowed, she stood on the podium, looking out at the cheering crowd, her fellow drivers waving at her from below.

For once, the paddock princess had her crown. And everyone—drivers, teams, and fans alike—couldn't have been happier for her.

[nanivinsmoke]

Picture Perfect

just want to apologize for not posting in a while, I was recovering from an illness .

toji f. & shiu k. x f!reader

we all want to be stuffed by these two, right?

summary : your two hot older neighbors agree to stuff you on camera, a viral sensation.

warnings and tags : rough fucking, age gap (readers in her early twenties, the other two late thirties), blow jobs, multiple orgasms, spit play, smoking, porn (making it duh), some anal, nipple play, boob jobs, degradation, etc…

“hello everyone,” you spoke to your webcam, waving at your viewers that were currently tuned in with your livestream. you grabbed a claw clip that was on your desk, putting your hair up before continuing.

“today’s stream is going to be very interesting. remember those two neighbors i was telling you guys about? how i was fantasizing about them fucking me? well, today’s the day!” you said with a giggle, teasing yourself through you ruby red laced bra.

you had been a camstar for a year now and your page was doing really good. at first you were really nervous about showing your face and body to a bunch of random people, but when you got the hang of it; it became natural and unnerving. you only showed from your lips, downward and would blur out the rest of your face and any guests you would be having on the stream. you were making bank, this was a good source of extra income.

you grew really popular, starting off with just some solo play before collaborating with other cam stars, who you became really close with—to now, about to fuck your hot neighbors. they were all for it when you asked them a few days ago, as they have been wanting to fuck the shit out of you for the longest.

the two of them were tired of getting stiff boners watching you walk through the apartment complex, bending over to pick up packages or simply jogging around in your small little outfits; while they shared their daily cigarette. and just like they watched you, you watched them. toji, the one with those hypnotizing green eyes, lived right next door to you; and you could hear everything that went on in his place—and you knew what how good he was.

as for shiu, he lived across the hall from the both of you and would always be at his best friend toji’s house. you weren’t strangers, but after today you would be more than acquaintances.

“when are you gonna stop talking to that camera and come over here, so we could fuck that pretty little mouth of yours?” toji’s deep—panty wetting voice alerted you and your plump lips contorted into a smile. “mmm, can’t keep them waiting. enjoy the show~” you reached behind and unclasped your bra, showing off your plump breasts—before getting up from your plush seat.

sashaying over to your bed, where the two half–naked men awaited, you kicked off your heels and joined them on your king sized bed; pulling toji into a kiss while you reached over and palmed shiu through his briefs. the kiss immediately became hot and sloppy as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, dominating you with ease. freeing shiu from his underwear, you stroked him—his precum sticking to your hand as you moved.

he grunted as he watched you give him the best hand job he had ever received. your manicured hand was soft and your grip around his thick eight inches had him bucking his hips up; wanting more. breaking away from your kiss with toji, you used your one free hand to pull off your soaked panties, tossing it aside; before squatting down on toji’s clothed bulge.

“not wasting any time, are we? guess we really gotta fuck you good now” toji chuckled, grabbing you by your plush thighs and hoisting you onto his face; planting your wet cunt onto his scarred lips—which made you lose your grip on shiu’s cock. a loud moan left your tongue, as toji swirled his on your throbbing clit—sucking and slurping on the swollen bud; your eyes closing shut from the pleasure. but, you had completely forgotten about shiu. that is until you felt his fat tip being smacked onto your plump lips.

his precum became smeared on your lips as he rubbed himself on your mouth, before pushing his way inside of your warm—wet mouth. “shit..” he breathed out while you didn’t hesitate to slobber all over his girth, your moans vibrating against him while toji continued to pleasure you with his tongue.

you started off with using one hand to grip shiu’s cock while you frenched it, tongue swirling around his tip and underneath his cock—causing a low moan to leave his mouth. the way your mouth felt was so euphoric for him. the way your cheeks puffed up and suctioned as you took him, the way your sex filled eyes were brimming with tears and the way spit pooled out the corners of your mouth; had driven him to insanity.

your eyes widened even more when you felt shiu’s big hands grip the sides of your head and push you further onto his cock, making his tip hit the back of your mouth; stuffing you completely. he didn’t let you get used to his roughness, he slammed his hips into your chin; fucking your mouth to his liking.

“yeah, take it like a good little slut—fuck, no hands.” your hands fell to your sides while he proceeded to make a mess out of your mouth. he was so rough, it made your head spin. the more he pumped his fat dick inside, the more your desire increased and everything about his cock turned you on. the smell, the taste and the shape made you hornier; and your throat slowly relaxed—allowing him to push himself deeper inside.

your face was so fucked out and sloppy, coated with slobber as he continued to make your mouth his personal fuck toy. some might find this to be dirty, but he found it arousing—so arousing that he was going to cum real soon, and you knew it too. your clit was pulsating uncontrollably in toji’s mouth. your sweet juices flowing out and into his mouth while he happily lapped them up, dipping his tongue in and out of your hole; building up your orgasm as well.

you couldn’t help but moan and grind your hips on his face, adding some more stimulation to your clit. “shit, y/n—g’na cum in that pretty little mouth,” and a few seconds later he did. he painted the inside of your mouth white, the taste and the warmth only made you want to swallow it and hopefully milk him for more. you wanted to keep sucking, but he pulled out of you with a pop. finally able to breathe right, you gasped and let out a loud moan, as toji sucked on your clit hard; causing you to cum right on his mouth.

“oh f-fuck!~” toji gripped the fat of your ass while you grinded against him, cumming hard all over his face. licking every last bit of your cum, toji pulled you off of his face and pressed his lips onto yours—the mixture of your cum and shiu’s swirled around in your mouths—before the two of you separated, breathless.

shiu immediately grabbed you by your hips and placed you near the edge of the bed where he was standing at, pushing you into the doggystyle position. the sight of your ass was beyond sexy and he couldn’t help but dive his face in between your cheeks, his tongue and the hairs of his mustache tickled you, but it still felt so good. mewls spilled out of your mouth as shiu licked from your ass all the way down to your clit, sending you into a frenzy.

you never been pleased like this before and having your ass ate was such a new, thrilling experience and you craved more. you rocked your hips back onto his face, the fat of your ass smothering him which he loved. it was no doubt that shiu was an ass man.

while shiu pleased you from the back, toji decided to see how good your head game was. “how good is it?” toji asked his best friend, when he finally came up from air, alluding to your mouth. “way too damn good, toj. and fuck her mouth hard, she loves that.” hearing his best friend’s approval, the raven haired male pushed his fat—leaking tip into your mouth, groaning at the feeling.

his dick was so much fatter than shiu’s, your cheeks were spread past its normal size due to his thickness. he tasted so good too, you swirled your tongue and bobbed your head, sucking him like it was an ice pop on a hot sunny day. “too fucking good….shit, this bitch is g’na make me cum already,” toji grunted, pulling himself out of your mouth, so he wouldn’t cum too early before he could fuck your mouth like he wanted.

“told you,” shiu spoke before he stood up from his spot and grabbed his head, pushing it into your slick coated entrance. you couldn’t help but gasp as he stretched you out, which resulted in choking on toji’s cock. “dick too big mama, hm?—it’s alright, you can take it,” toji coached, one of his hands resting on your throat while he restarted to make a mess out of your mouth.

you were in pure bliss while the two men filled both sides of you. your cunt was drenched with your juices and your mouth ached in a way that you found pleasure in. these men were going to break you and you were loving every bit of it.

the pornographic sounds of shiu’s balls smacking your wet cunt, along with the slurping sounds you were making; filled the room the more the two men pounded both of your ends. your live stream was going crazy. it was dinging each time someone joined and subscribed; they were enjoying seeing you get dominated by two older men, and you were as well.

and that’s when you smelled the pungent smell of nicotine. you looked up at toji and saw a cigarette in his mouth, before he took a pull from it and reached over to hand it to shiu. the two of them were smoking while they ravaged you, and you couldn’t help but get turned on from it. “oh? did this just turn you on? seeing us smoke, while we fucked you?” shiu sent a smack to your ass, causing you to moan which vibrated around toji’s eight inches.

“you like that mama? here~” toji removed his cock from your mouth and blew some smoke in it, before a wad of his spit followed along with it. you swallowed it and moaned, sticking out your tongue for more; which made the male chuckle. “so fucking nasty,” he let out another drop into your mouth and shoved his cock right back in, his tip hitting the back of your mouth repeatedly.

shiu could feel how much your walls were clenching around him crazily and knew you were close, “cum for daddy baby, let daddy see how much this pretty pussy cums.” and it didn’t take much for you to let go afterwards. a few more hard strokes with his tip hitting your spot, you creamed around his dick—eyes rolling back in your head as you did. “shit—look so damn sexy when you cum….g’na cum too~” toji breathed out before he emptied his balls into your mouth, with you swallowing his load immediately after.

a trail of spit mixed with his cum followed once he pulled out and you let out a series of moans when you felt shiu’s cock repeatedly slam into your cunt—still sensitive from cumming. a warm filling sensation followed shortly, making your womb feel full with his cum before he pulled out as well.

you laid there breathless, stuffed with cum and a sore aching mouth; until you were flipped over onto your back—being met with toji’s green eyes once more. “my turn~,” he said with a smirk plastered onto his face, before he aligned his tip with your entrance and pushed himself in.

you couldn’t believe it. you were about to have your third orgasm for the night and you were completely fucked out and cock drunk. your cunt gushed as toji pounded into you, his cock stretching you and hitting your g-spot with each stroke. your hair was sweated out and all over the place, but you didn’t care—it was just another sign you were being fucked good.

shiu on the hand was playing with your tits. showing your hard sensitive buds some attention, leaning down to lick on them; while his cock brushed onto one of them. the stimulation sent jolts of electricity to your clit and you loved the feeling from it. “again…mmm do it again”

“where’s your manners, princess?” toji asked, spanking your clit; earning a whimper from you. “please….do it—….again, daddy~.” you locked eyes with shiu and he smirked, before he rubbed his cock against your nipples some more. “good girl”

you were overstimulated to say the least and you could feel your orgasm coming, the two of them were close behind as well. “think she can squirt?” toji asked his best friend, keeping his finger in your clit while he pounded you. shiu looked at your fucked out face and smirked, “definitely.” and he didn’t waste no time in trying to get you to squirt. he thumb swirled on your clit, while his strokes became harder; your orgasm coming at you hard.

“im cumming—im cumming!” you repeated, eyes rolling back into your head as you did and just like shiu said, a stream of clear liquid left your cunt—drenching toji and the sheets beneath you.

“fuck, that was hot. g’na cum too” shiu began stroking his cock, keeping his left hand on one of your breasts—before he painted them with a thick coat of white. and soon, toji was right behind the both of you. after a few more sloppy, hard strokes, your womb was filled once again—tummy full with both of their seeds.

you laid there dazed and out of breath, while shiu stroked your hair and lit up another cigarette. toji sat on the bed and began to massage your sensitive legs, so they wouldn’t be too sore the next day.

“good job mama. maybe next time we could do this again”

and you would definitely take him up on his offer, fucking them on and off camera again.

[yagirlraee]

skaterboy!ino who definitely skates with you.

it only came to mind as he saw you gazing at him while he did flips on the ramp. he skated up to you and sat next to you on the bench with a sigh.

"you down?" he asked.

"for what?" you ask, tilting your head.

he grabbed your hand and pulled you off the bench, placing you on his skateboard.

"w-wait! ino!" you shriek as you wobble back and forth on the board.

he grabs onto your waist and slowly starts to walk.

"taku-"

"shh, just breathe. i got you."

he picks up his pace into a light jog and eventually hops onto the board with you. his feet sandwiching yours.

"see? told ya i got ya."

after a while, you guys come to a stop by the same bench.

"next time, i'll teach you, promise."

"okay, i guess." you playfully roll your eyes."

skaterboy!ino who makes you watch skating tournaments with him.

"WHAT!? HOW DID HE LAND THAT?!" ino screams.

you chuckle at his antics while you scroll on instagram.

he turns to you with his hands balled in fists.

"are you seriously on your phone right now?" he questions.

you quickly turn off your phone and hide it under the blanket you are snuggling under.

"..no?"

"don't lie to me."

semi-awkward silence passes before he pounces on you. you shriek in terror as he starts to tickle your waist. your giggles fill the room before you hit his shoulder, signaling that your tapped out.

he stares at you with literal hearts in his eyes.

"love you, pretty girl." he says as he leans into the crook of your neck, sniffing in your scent.

"love you too, pretty boy."

you guys end up falling asleep like that, even though it was only 1 pm.

skaterboy!ino who lets you draw/write whatever you want to on his board.

"what are you drawing now, babe?" he says kneeling to your level.

your on the floor of his apartment with markers and paint surrounding you.

"a cat." you say with a sheepish smile. "look at him."

ino peers at his board. "where is his other eye?"

"he's supposed to look like that, dumbass." you say nudging his shoulder.

he gets tired of kneeling so he lays next to you.

"my bad, my bad." he says defensively.

"when will you be done though? got a tournament tomorrow." he asks.

"i'll be done by tonight, don't worry." you say as you pat his head.

and, of course, he shows off his newly decorated board to the camera. which is live streaming to thousands of fans.

"my girlfriend made me this board!" he exclaims like a child with a new toy.

"i love her a lot!"

and you can't help but smile while watching him on tv.

a/n : sorry this is so short idk

[a-leg-without-fear]

No Fucking Way (pt.1)

have some absolutely adorable interactions with you and the students at the mansion (and a surprise guest)

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 4.1k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of animals neglecting their babies, and a story so sweet my teeth hurt

Inspiration: This scene from X2: X-Men United

Series: No Fucking Way

Your feet pounded against the gravel path beneath you. Small rocks and dirt were kicked up by your well-worn sneakers. Warm sweat dampened the cloth of your sweatshirt around your arms and chest. The sun beat down on your flushed face as a cold breeze bit across your nose. 

It was an absolutely gorgeous, autumn day. Occasional spotted clouds glided at a snail’s pace across a great blue sky. Soft breezes made the great trees surrounding the mansion dance like sheets of amber linen. Red and orange leaves skittered across the yellowing grass fields.

You saw a handful of students out on the lawn enjoying the early morning air. Sybil, a brunette with the ability to see through others’ eyes, sat beneath a large willow by the fish pond with a notepad in her hands. Vienna sat beside her. A strawberry blonde, bright eyed girl who could channel electricity into the palms of her hands. The two exchanged ideas about whatever Sybil was jotting down in her notepad.

Yuna sat not too far from the whispering pair, fingers twirling above a quickly constructed tower of stones and blades of grass. Her usual deep brown eyes now glowed a subtle violet. The maroon hijab she wore wrapped around her neck matched the crimson hues of the changing leaves in the trees around her. 

Jane, a kind-eyed tracker, Matt, a red glasses-wearing fighter, and Mads, a short-haired plant bender, sat in a circle, enjoying their morning coffee and tea together. You gave Mads a quick wave as you jogged past, receiving a warm smile and a shower of flower petals left in your wake.

The gravel path led along the left side of the mansion. Emerald ivy crawled up the brick walls like arms reaching from the earth. An occasional window broke up the light colored bricks. Most had their curtains drawn, which you attributed to a large portion of the students being late risers. One or two had the curtains open to allow fresh sunlight into the shared rooms.

You caught a glimpse of Sapph through one of the windows. Her bright smile and blue eyes were almost radiant as she basked in the streams of sunlight. Vases of sunflowers sat on the windowsill in front of her. The light seemed to bend, refracting from Sapph’s palms and hitting the sunflowers’ leaves.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The students were happy, the day was beautiful, and you only had one more lap of the mansion to jog before you’d call it a day.

“MAAAOOOWWW!”

You stopped just short of the empty basketball court. The crimson asphalt was covered in crunchy leaves and green brush from the nearby bushes. Corded nets hanging from the steel hoops swayed in the breeze. You looked around you, trying to find the source of the noise.

“MaaooOOW?”

There it was again. Closer than before. It sounded like it came from an incredibly small source, whatever it was. Your sneakers crossed onto the asphalt, toes kicking at leaves and twigs. You let your eyes scan the area around you. The court was surrounded by a wall of hedges. About waist high to you, it helped keep the court clear of too much debris from the trees. 

The mansion sat against the hedges. Large, bay windows looked into a sitting area. Hira, a telepath, sat in one of the plush leather armchairs with a novel in her hands. A white hijab wrapped around her head, glasses peeking out over light brown eyes. Daniel, a light-haired strongman, and Jacob, a bearded speedster, sat on the green-clothed couch across from Hira. Dice and rulebooks laid on the coffee table in front of them.

A rustle in the hedges to your left drew your focus from the students inside. The lowest branches shuddered, small green leaves shaken off and falling to the ground below. You knelt on the asphalt and strained your eyes to see through the dense foliage.

“MoowwWOAAOW!”

That was the only warning you got before a tiny gray and white fur ball burst out of the hedge and landed five feet in front of you. Pointed ears folded back, blue eyes widened, arched back covered in long fuzz.

A kitten. A small, angry, fluffy kitten. No more than a few weeks old. 

You remained where you kneeled on the asphalt, palms upturned and resting on your thighs. You kept a neutral expression on your face as you blinked slowly at the small creature.

After a few moments the kitten relaxed. Its ears faced forward, tail sticking straight up as it approached you. You gingerly extended a hand for it to sniff. Its tiny, pink nose ran across the tips of your fingers as it grew acclimated to your presence.

“Hi, little one,” you said through a barely subdued, ecstatic grin. You had always wanted a cat. Ever since you were a kid, you dreamed of a tiny ball of purrs curled up in your lap and effortlessly improving your mood. Not to mention they were ridiculously easy to take care of.

The kitten took a few more moments to sniff at your fingers. Its tiny eyes squinted as it seemed to devote its entire being to assessing your threat level. Once it seemed satisfied, it rubbed its chin across your thumb. You could already feel the purrs rumbling in its throat.

It took everything in you to not explode from the cuteness overload. This little thing, this tiny itty bitty little thing, chose you. You could feel a swell of pure adoration overtake your chest, the gentle warmth spreading from head to toe.

The cat continued to rub on your hand, occasionally nibbling on your fingers with the sides of its mouth. You lifted your free hand in an attempt to pet the kitten. Moving slowly to not startle it, you gently ran your fingers across its fluffy back. An explosion of purrs, like a hive of angry bees, met your affection. The cat dug its little head into the palm of your hand. You took the hint, giving it gentle scratches on the soft spots by its ears.

“You are the cutest fucking thing I’ve seen in my life,” you breathed in astonishment. The cat seemed to enjoy the compliment, pawing at your hands and attempting to climb closer to your face. You scooped its tiny body in your hands and lifted it to your chest.

Tiny paws kneaded at the fabric of your sweatshirt. Little needle-like claws pulled at the threads. The kitten looked up at you with squinted eyes. You carefully rose to your feet, doing your best to not jostle the miniature creature cradled to your chest.

The cat nestled into the crook of your neck. Its tiny nose puffed against your skin while a category-5 purricane buzzed in your hands.

You would die for this cat and you just met it a minute ago.

Mentally saying “fuck it” to the rest of your jog, you began to gingerly walk back inside. You avoided walking on the gravel to make as little noise and sudden movements as possible. The cat seemed to appreciate the gesture, with what miniscule amount its tiny brain could comprehend, as a small lick from its rough tongue passed over your neck.

You garnered a few sideways looks from the students on the lawn as you walked by again. Mads cocked her head, fairy themed earrings jingling, at the gentleness in your step and the backtracking in your path.

“You alright, ma’am?” she called out. Jane and Matt perked up at Mads’s exclamation. Jane looked up at you with curiosity written in her features while Matt’s dark brows furrowed.

A quick gesture to the buzzing fur ball in your hands was all the trio needed. Their expressions quickly shifted from confusion to utter joy. They whispered among themselves about the newest addition to the mansion as you passed by.

That method is how you seamlessly moved through the bustling early-risers inside the foyer. One perplexed look was met with a nod to the kitten in your hands and the students parted like the Red Sea. Excited murmurs spread through the students like wildfire. “Is that a cat?” “Oh my god, kitty!” “It’s so cute!” “I hope we can keep it!”

The last student you passed before reaching your destination was Bella, a time manipulator. She was just on her way out of the professor’s study, closing the heavy oak door behind her. A kind smile met yours when she looked in your direction. 

“Morning, ma’am. Need to see the- Wait, is that a cat?” she asked, eyes widening.

“Shhh. Yes, it is. Could you open the door for me?” you whispered. Bella lifted her first finger to her mouth, winking to indicate she understood, then twisted the brass knob and swung the door open before you.

“Good luck,” she whisper-yelled after you.

A grand office stood before you. Comfortable leather settees were positioned in front of a solid, mahogany desk. Rows and rows of bookshelves filled to the brim lined the walls. Trinkets and remembrances decorated available surfaces and empty wall space.

The professor, or Charles Xavier as you knew him, sat in his motorized wheelchair behind the large desk. His hairless head was lowered, blue eyes darting across the pages of a copy of House of Leaves. A single finger raised next to his aged face to acknowledge your presence.

“One moment, please. From both you and your new friend,” he said. A minute passed, seconds counted by the paws kneading into your shoulder, before Charles closed the book and met your gaze. A warm smile matched your enthusiastic one, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I found this little guy outside,” you began. The cat perked up at the mention of itself, eyes blinking up at you then looking at the professor. You ran a finger under the kitten’s chin as you continued, “He was an angry little fella, all bushy tailed, but he warmed right up to me. He was hiding in the hedges by the basketball court.”

“Ah, I see,” Charles replied. He lowered a hand to maneuver his wheelchair. The low buzz of the machinery heralded his movement as he rounded the desk to sit in front of you and the cat.

“I didn’t see any other cats around, but the good news is he seems to be old enough for solid food,” you said. The cat blinked slowly at the professor, its little nose sniffing the air in front of it.

“It seems his mother abandoned him. Weaned him off her too quickly and left him stunted. Poor thing,” Charles said, head tilting and lips pulling into a slight frown. You gawked at him.

“You can read the cat’s mind, too?” you asked. The abilities of the mutants around you never ceased to amaze. Especially one as powerful as Charles Xavier.

He smiled at the kitten, oblivious to your gawking, stretching out his hands to you, “May I?”

You gently lifted the cat off your chest, prying the tiny talons from your sweatshirt, and placed the furball in the professor’s hands. Charles lifted the cat to his chest and ran a gentle hand down its back.

“You’ll need to wake Rogue and Bobby, have them run to the pet store down the road. This one will need plenty of love and nourishment if he’s to thrive,” he said. You stared at him, dumbstruck.

“We can keep him?”

“He can stay, as long as he likes. Much is the same with the rest of those who live here,” Charles clarified. The little gray kitten nuzzled against Charles’s chin, the professor’s smile growing.

“Okay. Okay! Yes! I’ll go get Rogue and Bobby,” you said, absolute jubilation filling your lungs. 

You left Charles and the cat to continue their telepathic conversation as you raced up the giant, double staircase. Ornately carved wooden banisters ran along the edges of the stairs, polish shining in yellow circles from the chandeliers hanging on the ceiling. When the stairs divided into two sets, running opposite directions, you cut to the right. Your feet skipped over carpeted steps in your haste to reach your destination.

Once your sneakers landed on the second floor, you broke into a jog down the hallway. Door after wooden door flew by you on both sides of the hall. Paintings of peaceful landscapes and glowing sconces lined the wooden walls. A large window sat in the white wall at the end of the hall. Daylight streamed in and cast golden spots on the wood floors.

You stopped at the last door on the left. Rapping three quick knocks on the door, you bounced on your toes. There was a cat in the mansion. A cat! One that would live with you! You silently thanked whatever god it was that decided for you to be next in the cat distribution system.

It took another set of knocks on the door for you to hear movement on the other side. Bleary groans and rustling sheets leaked through the cracks in the door. You bit your lip in an attempt to quell your excitement.

The doorknob turned and a ruffled-looking Rogue appeared in the doorway. Dark hair just barely smoothed down, eyes squinted, robe hastily thrown over a nightgown.

“Vampire? Shit, what time is it?” she asked, grogginess laced in her tone.

“Doesn’t matter. We have a cat,” you said. Your smile widened as you waited for her response. Rogue eyed you, up and down, as she assessed her living alarm clock.

“Logan’s not a cat. We’ve been over this,” she said. She exhaled a puff of air through her lips to blow at the white bangs that fell over her eyes. You rolled your eyes playfully at the jab.

“Not Logan this time. An actual cat. A kitten,” you explained. Rogue’s eyebrows rose as her eyes widened.

“Wait, there’s a cat?” Bobby called from beyond the door. His blonde head popped up beside Rogue’s. The couple seemed to be much more awake now.

“Yup,” you said, annunciating the p. Bobby and Rogue looked at each other, smiles growing, before looking back to you. 

“Where is it? Can we see it?” Rogue asked.

“Charles needs the two of you to run and get cat stuff first. Like food, litter, toys. Anything you can think of,” you replied. At the first sign of them objecting, you continued, “You guys can get literally anything you want. Treats, cat towers, little obstacle courses. Just make sure it’s safe for a younger kitten.”

“We’re on it, boss!” Bobby said, happiness palpable and blue eyes sparkling, as his hand clapped on Rogue’s clothed shoulder.

“100%. This cat will be spoiled rotten,” Rogue confirmed. With that situation squared away, you gave the pair a quick nod, beaming at them, then took off back down the hallway.

The run back to the professor’s office was an even shorter journey due to you jumping down several steps at a time. A few students looked gravely concerned at your acrobatics. Especially Ash, who helped Jean with patching students up by being a walking pain-reliever.

Your hand caught on the doorframe of Charles’s office and you swung into the doorway, breathless. He and the cat were much like how you had left them. Tiny gray body tucked against his neck, both having their eyes closed.

“Bobby and Rogue are on their way out,” you said. Charles hummed in response, eyes falling open.

“This one’s taken a shine to you, my dear. Says you’re the first to treat him kindly,” he said, a proud smile painted across his face. You let out an incredulous laugh.

“Guess he really is one of us, huh?”

“More than you know,” Charles said through an amused chuckle. You approached the professor and ball of cuddles carefully, attempting to not disturb the little creature.

“Mrrpp?” the cat trilled. It squinted at you from beneath Charles’s chin, paws kneading into the back of the professor’s hands. You could almost hear its purrs from where you stood.

“Does he have a name?” you asked. You scratched beneath its furry chin as the cat stretched out its jaw into your hand. 

“I was hoping you might know one,” Charles said. He pressed the cat into your hands and you gladly scooped the little ball of love into your arms. You could feel the purrs emanating from the cat’s belly vibrate against your chest. Tiny, thin whiskers tickled along the underside of your jaw.

“Jeez, uh. I don’t know. Let me think on it,” you responded. It was hard to think when all of your focus was drawn to the fluffy creature cradled in your hands. Charles chuckled at your indecision.

“I’m sure whatever you choose, our newest student will happily respond to it,” he assured. He used his now free hands to dust cat hair off his crisp, navy blue suit. As you turned to walk out, Charles said, “Make sure to give him a bath. This young one’s lived outside for far too long.”

“Will do,” you said. You shifted your arms so you could better support the cat on your chest, then set a course for the upstairs bathroom closest to your and Logan’s room.

It seemed the news of a cat on campus had spread throughout the student body. A large crowd had gathered outside of Charles’s study. Students, an array of ages and stages of dress, craned their necks over their peers to try and catch a glimpse. 

“I wanna see!” Addie, a platinum blonde seven-year-old who could speak any language, called up from the space next to your hip. Your legs were framed by her and Ryan, a nine-year-old brunet with impenetrable skin. 

“Guys, the cat is very small. He needs quiet!” you said, voice coming out as a stage whisper. A hush fell over the group in front of you. Wide, hopeful eyes blinked up at you. You sighed, untucking the cat from the crook of your neck and holding him in front of you. At the sight of the small bundle of fur in your hands, a buzz of excited whispers passed from ear to ear. 

“Does he have a name?” Ryan asked. An echo of agreement sounded around the crowd.

“Not yet, so everyone start brainstorming!” you said. A renewed vigor filled the conversation as names were debated back and forth between students. You used the distraction to slip away, climbing back up the stairs and baring left this time.

This hallway was nearly identical to the one on the opposite side of the stairs. Wooden paneling covered the walls, patterned red carpet stretched down the middle of the floor, potted plants sat here and there. You knocked once on the first door to the right. Receiving no answer, you pushed it open.

Inside was a full bathroom. White tiles lined the walls and floor, the grout a cool gray. Warm patterned shower curtains hung from a steel rod suspended between two walls. A vanity mirror hung on the wall opposite the door. You flicked on the light switch, making the three globes above the mirror glow and send dancing reflections throughout the bathroom.

“Alright, fella. Let’s get you clean,” you said as you sat the cat in the sink. His little, furry body looked like a small sponge sitting in the white porcelain. A confused face looked up at you through squinted eyes.

“Mraow?”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not gonna like this part,” you responded. You leaned over, opening the white cabinets below the sink, and pulled out the unscented shampoo Logan liked to use. Straightening up, you noticed the cat had remained where you sat it. Prim, proper, posture like a little gentleman.

You smirked, scritching the top of his head between his ears. His face tilted up into your touch. 

“Such a sweet little guy,” you cooed. You gave him a few more well deserved pets before scooping his little body and turning on the faucet. You made sure the handle was turned to a warm, not hot, setting and the pressure was nice and low. 

The cat startled a bit in your palm at the sudden rush of water. A little paw raised, batting in the air between him and the running water. You dipped a finger in the water and brought it to his nose for proper inspection. A few sniffs, a couple licks, then his chin was rubbing on your fingertip again.

You took it as a good sign, dipping the same hand back under the faucet and letting the water coat your skin. Once enough water had gathered in your hand you lifted it to the cat’s back. He tracked your movement. Small, squinted eyes followed your hand as you placed your palm on his back. You felt the water droplets sink into the fluffy, gray fur and soak into his skin.

“This ok?” you asked, like the cat could give you an answer. The small creature blinked up at you. He seemed unbothered by the moisture. You gave him another palm-full of water to get him adjusted to the temperature, the sensation. Not a peep from this little sir.

You set the cat back in the sink, just the tail end of his back beneath the running faucet. He hunkered down into the smallest loaf you’d ever seen. Front feet tucked under his fuzzy chest, tail curled around his side, eyes blinking slowly up at you. You cupped water in your palm and let it run through his fur. Before too long you had a drenched, buzzing kitten in the sink.

“You are the strangest creature…” you wondered aloud. You popped the lid open on Logan’s shampoo and lathered up your hands. Thankfully, you didn’t spot any fleas or other parasites hopping on the kitten’s body. Washing out the dirt and grime shouldn’t take too long.

“Why are you hunched over the sink with my soap?” a gruff voice said from behind you. You smiled, looking over your shoulder.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you greeted. Logan leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. He wore his trademarked white tank top and loose jeans buckled with a brown belt. His dark hair was fluffy and unstyled, long strands hanging in front of his wrinkled eyebrows.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. He pushed off the wall and stepped up next to you, his boots clipping on the tiles.

“Right. So, funny story,” you began. You ran your soapy fingers through the cat’s soaked fur. Logan’s hip leaned on the counter as he continued to stare at you. Jutting your chin down at the sudsy feline, you continued, “I found this guy outside and he made me think of you.”

“Made you think of…” Logan trailed off when his hazel eyes landed on the kitten.

“You know, with his cat ears,” you explained. You scrubbed at the kitten’s purring body while Logan spluttered next to you.

“Cat ears?!” 

“Yeah. Those hair floofs you get when you style your hair. They look like cat ears,” you said. You pretended to ignore the pure indignation spouting from the man next to you. A knowing smirk stretched across your lips.

“I do not have cat ears,” Logan argued.

“Yes you do!” Rogue shouted, voice echoing down the hall.

Your indifferent mask broke as you doubled over, cackling. The cat’s head tilted as it watched your face disappear below the counter. Logan huffed, arms folding over his chest again.

It took you a few moments to regain your composure. Giggles bubbled up your throat everytime you glanced back at Logan next to you. He rolled his eyes at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he grumbled. But, because you knew him so well, you could see the smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

You cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders to rinse off the cat sitting patiently in the sink. Warm water trailed through your fingers and washed away the suds gathered on the kitten’s body. Squinted eyes watched you, blinking slowly and serenely, purrs vibrating against your hands.

“Happy little fuzzball, isn’t he?” Logan said. The kitten turned its head to peer at Logan. You ran a wet finger between its ears, smoothing the fur back and washing soap away.

“He certainly is,” you hummed. When an idea popped in your head, you felt your grin widen and your gaze slip over to Logan next to you, “You know, he still needs a name.”

“So name him,” Logan replied instantly. A tentative, large hand reached into the sink and ran two fingers down the cat’s soaked back. The kind and delicate gesture only further solidified your idea.

“Actually… I was hoping you could name him.”

Logan’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, relaxed expression melting into pure confusion.

“What?” he asked.

this short story is kind of a tribute to the lovely, lovely folks in the murdock tuna team. i have nothing but love and an endless stream of thanks to give to them. you all have inspired me to be a better artist, a better author, a better person. love you, blob blob 🐟

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[ange1heavensent]

━ In the Backseat ━

Pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

Content Warning: +18 content, minors do not interact, teasing, making out, fingering (r! receiving)

w/c ≈ 1100

It was one of those sweltering afternoons where the heat seemed to wrap itself around everything, suffocating and sticky. The sun was merciless, shining down on the street like it was trying to set the asphalt on fire. Abby had gone out for her usual workout, and you decided to do something to surprise her when she got back, wash her truck. After all, she’d been complaining about how filthy it was, and you couldn’t deny that it needed some love.

You stood in the driveway, hose in hand, wearing a simple tank top and cut-off shorts, the kind you knew Abby loved. You figured you might as well have a little fun with it. You started with the basics, spraying the car down with water, watching as the droplets clung to the hot metal before sliding down in perfect little streams. It was relaxing, therapeutic almost, until you saw Abby come jogging towards the house earlier than expected. 

“Hey, babe,” she called out, her usual cocky smirk tugging at her lips. Sweat glistened on her skin from the workout, and her grey tank top clung to her muscled frame. The sight of her was always enough to make your heart race. "You're early," you teased, biting your lip as you watched her approach. Abby looked like she was about to grab you and kiss you senseless, and you knew that look all too well. "Couldn't stay away from you," she said, her voice low as she eyed you up and down, clearly appreciating your outfit, or lack thereof.

You grinned mischievously and made a show of bending over to reach the bucket of soapy water, knowing her eyes were glued to you. You dipped the sponge into the suds and started scrubbing the hood, arching your back a little more than necessary. Abby’s sharp intake of breath made you feel powerful.

"You enjoying the view?" you asked, glancing at her from over your shoulder with a smirk.

Abby crossed her arms, leaning against the side of the truck, her gaze dark and hungry. "You know I am." You chuckled, giving the sponge a slow, deliberate squeeze, letting the soapy water cascade over your hands, down your arms, and onto your chest. The water soaked through your tank top, clinging to your skin and making the fabric almost see-through. You could feel Abby’s eyes burning into you.

You turned, watching her as she eyed the now-glistening surface of the truck. “You know,” she started, voice dropping an octave, “you missed a spot.” Her hand landed on the trunk, but her eyes never left yours.

“Oh, did I?” you asked innocently, stepping closer to her, your chest almost brushing against hers.

Abby’s hand came up, cupping your chin gently as she leaned down, her breath hot against your lips. “Yeah,” she whispered, voice thick with desire. “Right here.”

Before you could say anything else, Abby was on you, closing the distance between you both in a matter of seconds. Her large hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against her as her mouth crashed onto yours in a heated, possessive kiss. The truck was forgotten; the heat outside was nothing compared to the heat building between you two.

Abby broke the kiss, her breath hot against your lips as she spoke, her voice rough. "Get in the backseat. Now." Your pulse quickened as you obeyed, excitement thrumming through your veins. You opened the door and climbed into the backseat, the smell of leather filling your senses. Abby followed close behind, shutting the door with a thud.

You barely had time to sit before Abby was on you again, her hands roaming your body with urgency. She lifted your soaked tank top over your head and discarded it on the floor, her lips immediately finding the sensitive skin of your neck. You moaned softly, arching into her as her hands slid down to your shorts, unbuttoning them with ease.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" she growled against your skin, her hands slipping beneath your shorts, fingers brushing against your already soaked panties. You gasped, gripping the leather seat as her fingers teased you through the thin fabric. "Abby, please," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Abby yanked your shorts down. Before you could process it, her fingers were slipping past the waistband of your panties, finding your wetness. You moaned louder this time, your head falling back against the seat as she started to rub at your clit. "You're so wet for me," she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You want me to fuck you, don’t you?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your body trembling under her touch. "Please, Abby."

Her lips curled into a smirk against your skin, and without hesitation, she pushed two fingers inside you, stretching you in the way only she knew how. You gasped, clutching her biceps for support as she began to move, slow at first, teasing, until the rhythm built and built, and your body was arching into her, craving more.

Abby’s thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles as she fucked you harder, the sounds of your moans and the wet, slick noise of her fingers moving inside you filling the tight space of the truck. Your legs trembled, your whole body on fire as she drove you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, Abby-" you panted, barely able to form coherent thoughts as pleasure wracked your body.

"Cum for me, babe," she murmured, her voice commanding yet tender, her lips brushing over your ear. 

That was all you needed. With a loud cry, your body convulsed, the wave of your orgasm crashing over you as Abby continued to fuck you through it, her fingers relentless and perfect. You could barely catch your breath, trembling in the aftermath as she finally slowed, pulling her fingers from you and watching with dark, satisfied eyes as you came down from your high.

She kissed you deeply, her tongue sliding against yours as if she wanted to claim every part of you. When she pulled back, her lips were curved into a cocky grin. “You put on one hell of a show,” she teased, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You laughed breathlessly, leaning back against the seat, your body spent but satisfied. “Seemed like you enjoyed it.”

“Oh, I did,” Abby said, her voice low and dangerous. “But next time, I’m washing the car. Let’s see how you handle that.” You smirked, already imagining what would happen when it was her turn to tease you.

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)

[arwininecstasy]

⋆.˚✮ summer’s fading

⭑ word count: 2.2k

⭑ warnings: very very very tiny bit of sexual thoughts mentioned VERY briefly, use of the nickname “baby”

⭑ summary: while everyone’s enjoying their last night at the lake house you struggle with the thought of it being the last time you’ll see your boyfriend for months. quinn spends the night trying to change your mood after he hears you calling out to him.

⭑ note: hi guys!! this is my first fic post here (kinda nervous) but anyway feel free to have a look around and maybe send in a request or say hi? anyway thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy!

all day the thought of this being your last night with quinn had weighed heavily on your mind. while everyone shared jokes, laughed, and made the most of the last day, you couldn't shake the looming reality that in less than 24 hours, your boyfriend would be on a plane back to vancouver, leaving you in michigan. the laughter and warmth of the fire only worsened the ache in your chest. it felt like a countdown, every second was slipping away, the end of summer creeping closer and closer.

throughout the day you had barely participated in the fun, you just sat quietly, watching them all as you were lost in your thoughts. no one seemed to notice, not even your boyfriend. part of you was relieved no one noticed, you didn't want to ruin the mood but another part of you felt a deep sting that after all these years together, quinn hadn't picked up on your unease.

as the sun dipped further the group finished their hot dogs and excitedly ran to the lake to jump in before dessert. the sight of them running off, carefree and full of energy only made your heart sink further. it was getting darker and now on top of everything, you regretted letting your emotions keep you from enjoying the day.

you watched as quinn jogged away with everyone, a soft call of his name escaping your lips. he didn't hear you over the splashes and laughter. you called again, a little louder, but no response. frustration and sadness washed over you and tears began to stream down your cheeks as your voice cracked on the third call of his name. it wasn't until the fourth call, which was louder and more desperate that he finally turned around.

his expression immediately shifted as he raced over to you. "what's wrong, baby?" he asked urgently, crouching down in front of your lawn chair, his eyes full of concern as he gently cupped your face. now that he's in front of you the tears flow uncontrollably and your chest tightens with each sob. all you can manage to say is his name between your broken sobs and gasps for breath.

“hey, hey it’s okay.” quinn softly speaks, his eyes searching your face for any sign of what’s wrong. “did something happen?”

“i don’t want it to be over.” you croak out, your voice barely being above a whisper.

a frown tugs quinn’s lips as he gently wipes the tears on your cheek. “i don’t want it to be over either.” he admits, sighing as he looks at your state.

“i don’t want you to leave.” you sob, your words broken. “i can’t stand you being gone for months again.”

quinn sighs, pulling you into a tight hug, his hand rubbing your back soothingly. “i know baby. i’m gonna miss you so much too. but it’ll go by quickly, i promise, and we can text and call every day.”

“it’s not the same.” you say through another sob. “and you’re always busy on game days.”

“i know.” he whispers, pulling you close into his chest. “i wish i could stay here longer but i have things to go back to. i promise it’ll go by fast.”

you wait a moment before pulling back slightly, looking up at your boyfriend with teary eyes. “did i ruin the whole day?”

quinn shakes his head firmly. “no, no, of course not.” he cups your face again. “don't ever think that. it’s okay to feel how you’re feeling.”

“but i didn’t do anything with you and your brother or your friends… i feel like i wasted the day.” you say with a heavy sigh, wiping your own tears away. “i miss it being just us. we don't get that anymore.”

quinn's frown deepens even more. “you don't ruin anything. i got to spend the whole summer with you and that's what matters. we've had so much time together and today was great because i got to be with you.”

“but quinn, we havent done anything the two of us in so long, and i miss that.” you admit, your voice quieter.

“i miss it too.” he whispers, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “you're right, we havent had a lot of time alone this summer.” he pauses and makes eye contact with you. “how about we go get some ice cream? just you and me, like we used to?”

you wipe at the wet skin below your eyes, nodding slowly. “yeah i’d like that.”

quinn leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “good, i’ll go tell the guys we're heading out for a bit.” he stands up and looks down at you with a lighthearted but concerned smile. “wait here.”

he walks over to where his brothers and friends are by the lake, luke noticing him first. “everything okay?” his youngest brother asks.

“yeah.” quinn replies, “we're just gonna grab some ice cream.” he doesn’t stay any longer than needed and quickly heads back to you, smiling and taking your head. “ready?”

you nod again, sniffling. he leads you to his car, opening the door for you and making sure you’re settled before getting in himself.

after arriving at dairy queen, quinn orders two waffle cones, one vanilla and one chocolate for you. the restaurant is mostly empty, except for a few families with kids. he hands you your ice cream and leads you to a quieter table in the corner, where you sit next to each other.

"thanks, quinn," you say softly, the sadness from earlier still lingering.

he nods, offering a reassuring smile. "it’s gonna be okay," he says, rubbing your arm. "i know it sucks, and i hate leaving you too. but i’m always thinking about you, every second of the day, no matter where i am." you hum softly in acknowledgment, focusing on your ice cream.

quinn keeps his eyes on you, his hand still gently rubbing your arm. "i hate seeing you sad. especially over me. i just don’t want you to spend your last night here upset. let’s make the most of it, okay?"

you let out a small, shaky breath. "how?"

he smirks, his eyes twinkling. “i can think of some things.” he chuckles, thinking raunchy thoughts before immediately stopping himself from going further.

you let out a small laugh at his joke. "well, ice cream was a start. maybe we can watch a movie, or take a walk—just the two of us?"

"it’s late, and your flight’s in the morning," you point out.

quinn rolls his eyes with a dramatic pout. "you’re really killing me here." then he notices your eyes welling up again and his expression softens immediately. "hey, i was just teasing. don’t cry, i didn’t mean it like that."

he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle. "how about we go for a drive? we can listen to your favorite music, and when we get back, we’ll cuddle up in my room, just the two of us. we can talk, watch something, whatever you want."

a small smile tugs at your lips. "yeah, that sounds good."

he lets out a relieved sigh, smiling as he presses a kiss to your forehead again. "good. let’s go on that drive."

the two of you head back to his car. quinn opens the door for you, making sure you’re comfortable before he gets behind the wheel. once he connects his phone to the car he hands you his phone. "queue up your music."

as the music plays, quinn places his hand on your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze. he smiles when he sees you begin to relax. for a while, the two of you simply drive, the sound of your favorite songs filling the air as quinn glances at you now and then, his hand never leaving your thigh.

"feeling a bit better now?" he asks softly, his voice full of care.

“yeah, i just… i missed this, being with you like it used to be before you left the first time.”

quinn nods, his tone gentle as he replies, "i know, me too. it's really nice to have this time alone with you again." he glances at you, feeling a pang of regret from seeing how sad you’d been earlier. he missed your usual happy self.

he turns his attention back to the road, sighing softly. a little while later, he pulls onto the street leading up to the lake house. slowing down, he parks in the driveway, turns off the ignition, and looks over at you. unbuckling his seatbelt, he reaches for your hand. "come on," he says with a soft smile, stepping out and walking around the car to open your door for you. he helps you out, shuts the door behind you, and leads you toward the house, opening the door and gently ushering you inside.

once inside, he guides you upstairs to his bedroom, flicking on the light as he walks in. he sits on the bed, patting the spot next to him, signaling you to join him. when you sit down, instead of letting go of your hand, he intertwines his fingers with yours, his eyes meeting yours with a tender smile. he cups your cheek with his other hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. shuffling closer, his expression turns soft and loving.

“i meant it when i said i hate seeing you so sad.” his voice is barely above a whisper, his gaze locked on yours. he runs his hand through your hair gently, sighing. "i know it's hard when i'm gone, but it's hard for me, too. i hate leaving you every time." he looks away for a moment, frowning slightly. “i think about you all the time… when i’m training, playing, even hanging out with the guys… you're always on my mind. i hate being so far from you.” his eyes return to yours as he sighs, pulling you closer, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “i wish you could follow me everywhere i go. i don’t know how i make it through the year without you by my side.”

your lips part as you quietly murmur, “me too.”

he smiles softly, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand moves from your cheek down to your shoulder. he gently nudges you to lie back, and once you’re flat on the bed, he positions himself over you, careful not to put his weight on you. he hovers above, gazing down with nothing but love in his eyes. his thumb strokes your cheek while his other hand rests on your hip, caressing it lightly. his eyes flick to your lips, then back to your face, his heart swelling as he looks at you.

“quinn…” you drag out his name, making him hum in response, his head tilting in silent curiosity. his hand on your hip tightens just slightly, his soft smile still present. “i love you so much.”

his eyes light up, the smile on his lips growing as those words hit him, his heart skipping a beat. even though he knows it, hearing you say it always fills him with happiness.

he gently moves his hand from your cheek to your jaw, cradling your face as he whispers, “i love you too, baby.” then, shifting beside you, he pulls you into his chest, holding you close. his hands wander lovingly across your body—one holding your hip, the other tracing soft lines up and down your back.

it was quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan in his room and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. his fingers traced over your back, he drew soothing patterns along our back, lulling you into a calm and comforting state.

“thank you for buying me ice cream,” you murmur your tone light, catching him off guard after the comfortable silence that had been going on for a little.

he chuckles softly, amused by the sudden shift. tracing your back still, he says with complete sincerity, “i’d do anything to make you smile.”

“i don’t deserve you,” you whisper, the weight of your emotions pressing down again.

quinn frowns, shaking his head as he squeezes your hip gently to grab your attention. "yes, you do. stop saying that. you're perfect. you're my perfect girl." his smile returns, filled with love and certainty.

you blush and look up at him through your lashes quickly. “i wish we could stay like this forever.” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you buried your head back into his chest.

quinn pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “me too,” he murmured, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly.