#the whole ‘is there something heavy you need moved’ from him is very good though

[classyrbf]

Hiii, i love your blog sosomuch. can i req like angst/comfort fic nanami? maybe nanami is like a bittttttt of an ass

ARE YOU STILL MINE! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...you feel as though your husband has become too distant from you and your marriage is hanging on by a thread

INFO...nanami x fem!reader, nanami is bit mean, mentions of cheating but no actual cheating, angst (obvi), reader is insecure with herself, mentions of divorce, comfort at the end, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thank you so much anon, I hope you enjoy your request!

At first it started out with him staying at work later than usual, coming home at strange times in the night where you had fallen asleep on the couch because you were waiting for him. He’d merely just glance at you, thinking you opted for the couch rather than the bed, walking into the room to go to bed instead of waking you. Then, he started talking less, being very distant, dry with his responses every time you’d brought up an interest of yours. He’d play with his food, moving it around on the plate like a picky child while humming responses. Then, you started not seeing him at all, every morning you opened your eyes he was gone and every night you couldn’t bear staying awake any longer than needed. And lastly, you began to feel alone, the house that you shared with your husband started to feel like you were now sharing it with a roommate. Was your marriage on the brink of divorce?

Another morning, another day of waking up to an empty bed. You rolled over, the sheet crinkled from where he slept but ultimately felt cold. It was a daily routine for you now, though you can’t grow accustomed to it no matter what you do. Its disappointing. Sad. All of your friends gush about their husbands bringing them gifts, going on vacation, and the cherry on top was soon one of your friends was having a baby. You sat there the whole time, staring off into the distance because you couldn’t remember the last time kento had even got you a gift, let alone uttered a word to you.

You stared at the diamond ring that adorned your finger, contemplating if this was at all really worth it anymore. Why stay in a marriage you weren’t happy in? But before making any rash decisions, you knew you needed to talk with him before anything. That’s if you even get the chance to. Lazily dragging your feet across the kitchen floor, you opened the fridge and realized he had left his lunchbox, leaving the food you made last night. You grabbed it, letting out a deep sigh. Should you even bring it? Yes, get out the house and get some fresh air. No, you’re just gonna waste your time and he won’t even eat it.

After fully waking up, you got dressed and grabbed his lunch box off of the counter. You walked past the mirror in the hall, keys in hand before you came to a complete stop to look at yourself. Jeans and a shirt with tacky sneakers that didn’t even match. And your eye bags just added onto it. God, you looked horrible. He wouldn’t want to see you like this. Especially not at his job.

With summer breeze, you were quick to change into a pretty sundress Nanami had gotten you last winter, along with some wedged heels to top off the look. And quickly, you ran to bathroom to apply makeup, nothing too heavy but just enough to make it look like you were at least taking care of yourself properly. You smeared the pink gloss along your lined lips, leaning towards the mirror to make sure you looked good. Still, you didn’t feel satisfied, but it’ll have to do.

You sat in the car for another minute, applying another coat of mascara before heading into the building. Nerves struck through your entire body, something similar to a first date. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, your own husband, that it now feels like seeing him for the first time. The thought made your frown as you stepped foot inside. You greeted the woman at the desk. “Hi, I’m here to drop my husbands lunch he forgot it at home. Nanami Kento.” You kindly smiled.

“Oh! You’re Mr. Nanami’s wife! Pleasure to meet you!” She bowed, smiling. “You’re free to head to his office.”

“Thank you!” Your heels click against the marble flooring, walking towards the elevator and pressing the button with a shaky hand. You wondered if he’d be surprised to see you, greet you with a kiss or a hug. You grew hopeful, imagining finally being in his embrace after so long. You smiled, stepping out of the elevator and headed down the hall towards his office.

On the other side of the door you could hear your husband laughing, talking with someone. But jealousy and insecurity buried a pit in your chest when you heard a woman laugh along with him. You barged into the office, taking site of the two sitting across the desk from one another. Your husbands eyes shot up towards you and the woman glanced over her shoulder with a confused look.

“Y/n?” He stood from his chair, walking over to you. “Sorry, this is my wife.” He awkwardly laughed, looking at the woman who was now standing.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Nanami.” She bowed, a small smile on her lips.

“H-hello.” You shakily replied, looking between her and your husband.

“What are you doing here?” He whispered, brows furrowed. From his tone, he sounded slightly annoyed, like you had interrupted something important.

“You forgot your lunch I thought—”

“I already had lunch. No need.” He easily dismissed you, shaking his head. “I’m having an important discussion right now, so I’ll see you at home.” He walked you out of his office, shutting the door behind you. No goodbye. No kiss. Not even a hug. I’ll see you at home. What a joke.

You sat in the bath, bubbles surrounding you and scented candles lit on the sink. The diamond ring on your finger glistened under the dim light as you stared at it, a sour taste forming in your mouth when you remembered earlier today. Who was that woman? Clearly she worked there, but she was so much younger, prettier, and she was making Nanami laugh. He was in such a rush to push you out, claiming he had eaten already. God, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was cheating. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. Forget the talk.

You’ve forgotten how long you’ve been sitting in here now, but you were surprised when you heard the front door open. Reaching for your phone, it was only five at night, pretty early for him to be home nowadays. You just soaked in the bath, hearing his footsteps grow closer and closer until he reached your bedroom. Nanami, noticed the bathroom light, walking in and seeing you in the tub. “Hey, honey.” It’s felt like years since he’s called you any type of pet name, or anything in general.

“I was just getting out. I’ll finish after you’ve done doing what you need to do.” You reach for your towel on the rack, before Nanami stops you.

“Woah, woah, can I not join you?” He chuckled, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

“No. Not in the mood.” You snatched the towel, wrapping it around your body before stepping out the tub, blowing out the scented candle and grabbing your phone. “Enjoy your shower.”

“Honey, if this is about earlier today, I apologize. I was interviewing her for a position—”

“God, you really haven’t noticed it?” You were at your breaking point, on the verge of tears from all the hurt you’ve been holding in for the last few months.

“I’m sorry I don’t know—”

“I want a divorce.” The words came out of your mouth as smooth as silk, leaving him shocked.

“Wait, wait! Sweetheart, talk to me first please?” He almost sounded desperate, reaching for you as you walked away into the bedroom. He quickly followed behind you. “Say something.”

“These last few months have been hell! You come home late, leave early, I don’t even see my own husband anymore. We don’t even talk to or at least text each other. And then I walk in, seeing you laughing and talking with some woman and god, the worst comes to my head because my husband hasn’t been mine for last three months! We haven’t kissed, hugged, or even had sex in so long. And then I get all dressed up for you and you push me out of there like I’m a stranger and then you come home and act like everything is okay! I’m not okay!” You scream, tears pooling in your eyes. “I feel so alone. So jealous and insecure.” You sob, turning away from him because he doesn’t deserve your tears, he doesn’t deserve to see you so weak and broken.

“Honey, I am so fucking sorry. God, please look at me. Baby.” His soft voice makes you want to rebel against everything you’re standing for right now, wanting to turn to him and hug him and kiss him. You feel his soft hands on your shoulder. “I am so sorry for making you feel less than what you truly are.”

“Are you cheating on me?” You managed to ask through tears.

“What?!” He says shocked. “No, fuck, of course not!” He couldn’t believe his ears, turning you around on his own, pulling you to look at him. He’s not surprised you think he’s having an affair with the way he’s been acting lately. But the truth is, he’s been distant because of a surprise. “I could never cheat on you. It disgusts me to even think about it, darling.” He caresses your face gently, holding it in his hands.

“Then what is it? Do you not love me anymore?” You hiccup, staring at him with teary eyes.

“I’m madly in love with you! I know these past few months, I’ve been horrible at showing it, treating you like you’re nothing when you’re everything. If I knew this would have such a horrible effect on you, I would’ve told you sooner instead of wanting to surprise you.” He let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. Disappointment within himself for putting you in such a position.

“What? What surprise?” You looked at him confused, browns knitting together. He sat you on the edge of the bed, taking your hand in his as he kneeled in front you. “Kento…”

“I’ve been working so hard because I was planning our future. Saving up to move to Malaysia. I wanted it to be a surprise, but, I can’t keep seeing you like this. I’ve been working to save up more money, I’ve been searching for houses and talking to realtors on the phone. I’ve been exhausted, honey, but that’s no excuse for how I’ve been treating you like an afterthought.” He kissed your palm. “Please forgive me. I am so, so, sorry.” He kissed your hand again, resting his head on your lap. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave me. Just hearing those words leave your mouth earlier scared the shit out of me. I can’t lose you. I love you so much.” He chokes back tears, holding you tightly.

You sit there shocked, completely and utterly shocked. While his actions were no excuse, you still can’t believe the reasoning behind it all. “Ken,” you mutter, running your fingers through his soft blonde hair. He kisses your hand once more, lifting his head to stare up at you.

“I’ll do anything if you just stay. I’ll do anything for you, sweetheart. I need you to know that.” Your heart pounds against your ribcage as he crawls up towards you, cupping your face. “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so—mmph—sorry.” He kisses you between words, pressing his lips to yours. You haven’t felt his kisses in so long but it’s like they never left, feeling his firm grip on you as he kissed you so sweetly, each one filled with so much passion and desire.

“Baby, Ken, I forgive you. Okay?” You pull away. “Just…please, don’t ever do that to me again. I don’t care what it is, do not make me feel like I’m any less important. I can’t believe you’ve been working your ass off just so we could move to Malaysia, carrying the burden by yourself when you know I’m right here.” Your eyes search his.

“I understand. I’m sorry. I know I should’ve said something, I just…I don’t know. It’s doesn’t matter anymore, yeah? I’ve still got some extra work to do for the next two weeks until it’s settled, so don’t think I’m going back on my word. I swear I’m not.” He pecked your lips.

“Okay, I understand. Can I at least ask where in Malaysia?” You smiled, holding his hand.

“That, I am keeping a surprise.” He shook his head. “I just can’t wait to see the look on your beautiful face when you see it.” He quickly scooped you up in his arms, walking into the bathroom. “Shower with me? It’s been so long since we’ve—”

“Of course. I’ve missed you so much, Ken.”

His eyes glistened as he stared at you, smiling like an idiot in love. “You looked beautiful earlier today. I noticed you were wearing the sundress I had bought you. I can confidently say that it hugs you in the all right places. If there were no one in my office, I would have taken you right then and there, sweetheart.”

“Ken!” You shout in surprise, covering your mouth as you stifled back a laugh. “Please just get undressed so we can shower!”

“It’s good to see a smile back on your face.”

[mintmatcha]

if wolf form beau somehow breaks free, is he immediately pouncing on reader? does he try to fight those urges?

tw: noncon ish, dubcon, werewolf fuckin

.

"Beau!" you try to push on to your hands, but he's too heavy, the sheer force of his bucking hips slamming you into the hardwood. Claws circle your waist and the press of sharp into your skin steals a gasp from you. Beau. Beau would never hurt you, you try to remember, but you aren't sure if that's still true.

Because this is not your Beau.

Your fears are sated as Not Beau he pulls his hands downwards and tugs, ripping at your jeans until they are nothing but tatters, strips that do nothing to protect your awaiting cunt. Panic has you quivering, but there's no denying how glossed your legs are with your own excitement.

"Shh," His voice is a rolling growl. His frame is so massive against you that his body is stretched well past your head, his long, angled legs easily two feet longer than your own. The heat of him contrasts with the chill of the wooden floor; his torso presses against your back and all you can do is wiggle and try to breathe under the growing weight of him sinking down into you.

There's a nudge.

You know Beau's cock is big. You've been staring at it during every full moon.

But when it presses against your wet folds, you're suddenly very aware that it's massive. The angled head runs across your pussy so gently thst it feels aimless (even though you know it's not aimless. It's very much aimed towards entering you, fucking you, breeding you-) and Beau let's out a gritted huff. this hips move again, then again, missing entering you and just fucking himself against your pussy. The grooves and ridges of his dick grind against you clit as he goes and you cant help but open your knees wider for him.

When he pulls away, this time farther, a large drop of precum drops down from his hanging cock, right on to your asshole. It feels unnervingly hot at first, but then it rolls down on to your cunt.

The heat spreads, blossoming from your clit all the way your womb. It's prickly and buzzing, this all consuming thing that simply, truly, purely-

Feels really fucking good.

This time, when his dick misses its mark and runs over your sex, the feeling is absolutely electric.

"Oh," The way the voice seeps from you is delightfully embarrassing. "Ooohh."

From above you, Beau growls in delight. Drool drips from his jaws, down onto the floor in front of you. You wonder if you tasted it, it would make your body hot like his other fluids seem to do-

That trains of thought is interrupted when the tip of his cock finds purchase. The pressure against your entrance shocks a gasp from you, but your body leans into it, helping the monster above you slip inside. The balance of pain and pleasure, dear and want, makes your legs quiver.

Half of his tapered tip sinks inside before the resistance of your body becomes too much. Your cunt pulses uncontrollably, the dizzying effect of his precum not enough to fight the discomfort, but also inching a burning want up your spine. Beau nashes his teeth together, gripping your arms harder as if you could possibly get away-

As if you could ever want to get away. No, as his cock continues to dribble into you, the twisted gut desire itches deeper and deeper, to a place you couldn't touch if you tried. You need his cock. Need it, even if it absolutely breaks you.

"Not gonna fit." His voice is warped in his canine mouth. At the peak of his transformation, he can barely manage a full sentence.

His hips jerk forward and you yip in pain.

"I want you," you whine. "Want you all the time, Beau."

He won't remember this.

"My husband was so small-" you whimper. "Need you to stretch me out over my fucking coffee cable. fuck me 'til I cry every morning-"

Beau reels back at this and you think you've said something wrong until he fuckes into your thighs again. His whole body hunches. flattening himself as close you as possible, coupling your head in his arms. That spit is now running down your neck, tricking to your shoulder blades as he fucks himself into you.

It's all greedy, selfish movements. and yet when his cock rubs against your wanting clit, you cry and beg and keen and---

When your orgasm hits, everything goes white. Sounds leave your mouth and you're too busy twitching to stop it. It's so overwhelming that it almost feels like your body had betrayed you. Beau seems to understand what's happening; his muzzle nips and nudges at the back of your head as he continues rutting harder and harder. He's only a couple moments behind you, burying himself into your thighs with a gnarled groan. His cuk is thick. Hot. And it pools under you in a ludicrous amount. A flicker of you is almost relieved; there's no doubt in your mind. That would have bred you.

"Waste," he grumbles as he pulls away. Without his weight, you can pull in a deep breath and the exhaustion hits you. You slump down, only for the hulking hands to grip at your waist and lifts you off of the ground.

Fear hits you again. A second round? You couldn't possibly. Your cunt aches and you haven't even been fucked-

He carries you over to the bed and those golden eyes catch you as he lays you back down. There's a careful inspection of your face and body, a touch of a bruise on your shoulder. When you don't react, he nods and leaves you there, atop the comforter.

Honestly, fully human men have treated you worse. As he skulks off to the other side of the room, an emotion in you dips. You don't want to be alone; you'd rather be with him, on the floor in a puddle of cum.

You need to keep him with you. Need to tempt him over.

"Beau," you call and he perks up immediately. "Come here."

The way something so massive suddenly caves to your whimsical gives you a sick satisfaction. You run your fingers through your folds and hold up your hand for him, letting the wetness string between your fingers.

"Taste."

Beau obeys. The mattress creaks under his weight as he eases over top of you, straining for your outstretched hand. His tongue is rough and thick, strong enough that he cleans your fingers in a couple strong licks.

"Good boy," you say. Surprisingly, the werewolf seems to like the praise. Good.

"Taste." You touch yourself again and rub it down the side of your neck. Again, the tongue do

"Taste." You hlaze your own tits with it. Beau licks and nips again, this time much longer than needed. Sleep is going to overtake you, but the attention and warmth of his body feels good to bask in.

"Do you like my tits, Beau?"

He groans an affirmative. The flicker of tongue against your nipple sends butterflies across your skin, but you can't pull yourself awake enough to enjoy it.

"Does human Beau like my tits too?"

"Yes," he grits into the fat of your chest just as you start to drift. "Human Beau likes everything about you. Human Beau wants you bred full too."

.

When morning rises, the room smells like sex. There's the comforting weight of a man on top of you, his face

From his place between your legs, Beau's human cock is pressed right against your sex once again, tip barely kissing your entrance. It's smaller, of course, but it's in no means small. It would still ache to take, still shake your legs-

You think, maybe, if you could tilt your pelvis just a hair, you could get the whole tip in without him waking up and ruining your fantasy...

[seneon]

I have no idea if requests are open or not so forgive me if they’re closed but could I request like making out with the Saja boys and how that would go? If that’s too much then putting makeup on them🙏🙏

LIPS HIPS KISS ─── saja boys. suggestive. gn¡reader.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ JINU SAJA

making out with jinu feels like the end of the world. he's a good kisser. why wouldn't he be when he's at least four centuries old? he's had his fair share of experiences that he has learned from. soft lips, smooth skin, tantalising eyes. and his magical hands that has you melting beneath his touch.

jinu holds your face, the back of your neck, or wherever that he could keep you locked in your spot with absolutely no where to run. his lips moved against yours so softly at first— testing the waters. but when you reciprocated, it gets bolder and heated until he could feel both your bodies growing hot, pushing you so close to him you could feel his chest against yours and the growing arousal from below.

he's the type to make out with you after the mood is set, or whenever he needs reassurance. french kisses seemed to be his favourite. he loves the way your lips perfectly moulds against his. kisses like these often leads to comforting cuddles, not very often does it progress into something more heated. he likes keeping it romantic. but when it does get heated, his hands will be under your shirt or beneath your waistband by now.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ABBY SAJA

likes your hand all over his chest when you two make out. it's common to hold onto something to keep the connection going, isn't it? so he always wants your hand on him, roaming all over and feeling his muscles hardening under your touch. it sends fire straight to his core, making him breathe so very heavily into you.

abby heavily fancies rough kisses. ones where it's dominating, controlling, and guiding. this man leads every kiss and every single initiation. he wants to execute, not feel. never much of a feeler. abby only seek to please you and make you feel good. his kisses are a simple start.

while your hands are all over his chest, his hands in return are all over your hips and waist and under your shirt. touching and feeling your skin, simply by brushing his thumb against your hips is enough for him. abby will also make out with you literally anywhere. the underworld if you're a demon, social meetings, meet and greets, at the back lane, anywhere. he could never get enough of the taste of your sweet lips.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ROMANCE SAJA

make outs with romance always end up with his hands on your hips, guiding you to rock your hips against him. no kidding. no shit. no lies. his heavy breathing and the way he holds the back of your head contains a lot of affection, and you can tell by the way he always starts off cheesy and romantic.

but oh, how silly of you to think that sweet kisses couldn't develop into something such as grinding against the obvious arousal in his pants while you feel your own arousal build up. he's a big tease with it. always getting you all hot and bothered but never doing more than that. you know you get him all worked up as well. besides getting aroused sexually, you annoyance from the teasing also gets aroused.

that's okay though. romance likes it when you're all angry and taking control instead when he's became your thirteenth reason in this push and pull. if i hadn't made it obvious yet, he likes you sitting on his lap and looking up at you with that stupid smirk and devilishly handsome face. he's also the type to also nip at your bottom lip.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ BABY SAJA

super big fan of brushing your bottom lip before kissing you or even in the middle of kissing. that was your foreplay before sex, if we're speaking through incoherent metaphors. he finds your lips absolutely pleasing to touch or simply kiss. and suck. oh, how much he adores sucking and then licking your bottom lips. only bottom by the way.

baby is the type of man who wants to taste your whole mouth as if they're potent enough to cover the taste of spicy sauces. exploring your mouth is a normal thing when you make out with him, his hands cradling your cheek just as his thumb gently brushes against your lips.

often times tongues are involved, so there weren't any exceptions. in fact, tongues are a must. you can't even tell if he's teasing you or not. but it makes the kiss heated and to die for. after several minutes of making out, baby yearns to leave his marks on the skin of your neck. he goes down your collarbone, your chest, and your lower abdomen until he reaches his favourite place to kiss.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ MYSTERY SAJA

loud, noisy, and absolutely pathetic. not in a bad way, in a good way to signify to you that he enjoys making out with you. like the rest, mystery will heavily breath into you as he kisses you. only this time with him, this man will emit sounds from the depths of his throat which you swallow.

he whimpers when you touch him, whines when you pull away for air, moans when he himself gets rougher with the kisses. he's so touchy and needs you to touch and hold him. which shocks you, because mystery is so quiet that the thought of him being noisy during heated moments such as these could happen. not that you're complaining though.

him being a yearner makes you feel like a wobbly jelly. maybe even because you get to lead the kiss and do whatever you want to him. he's the type to crumble under one touch from you and become the pillow princess. you have mystery wrapped in your fingers and. he loves being in your chokehold. you might get a few bit marks on your lips with his much mystery digs his teeth into your lips by mistake and pure excitement though.

note. oops i went overboard with this one uhh yay! this one's for you, @skriblobz, happy early wedding day to you and rafayel LMFAOOO

© SENEON 2025 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[trashytracktales]

PLSSSS part 2 to this time tomorrow but it’s a year or so later and he’s dealt with his grief and guilt and happily ever after pls

Same time yesterday | MV³³

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟮 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗧𝗢𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗢𝗪

*can’t be read as a standalone.

✦ summary ──── It’s been eleven months since she left, and her absence haunted every aspect of Max’s life.

✦ pairing ──── Max Verstappen x she/her reader

✦ rating ──── explicit

✦ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, feelings of unworthiness, emotional angst, isolation, themes of guilt, grief and self-doubt, panic attack with descriptions of physical symptoms, struggles with self-worth, insecurity and personal trauma, healing through intimacy, smut, fingering & oral ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, pet names, praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation.

✦ word count ──── 8.5k

✦ date ──── Jun. 12, 2025

✦ a/n ──── This is not very I don’t do part 2s of me, but the amount of people requesting it made me feel guilty, so here we are. YOU WIN (ILY) 🙄. All jokes aside, writing this healed something in me. Goodnight 🤍✨

MAX DIDN’T EXPECT her to actually leave.

In his stubbornness, he hoped that he’d find her back in his apartment once he returned from work a week later, when her mind would clear up and the adrenaline of the breakup would be long gone. But when that didn’t happen, and he came back to an empty place, he slowly began to panic. On the inside, of course. Because Max is the kind of person who rarely ever displays his feelings out in the open, and when he does it, it’s usually his ruthless side that comes out. He would never admit in front of anyone that he has weaknesses. The only time he’s ever done it was in front of the mirror, in those mornings when everything became too heavy to carry for a pair of shoulders already weighed by the burdens of the past.

He did not expect her to leave.

Not after everything they’d said to each other, not after the way she’d touched his face the night she walked out, and the way her lips lingered on his cheek like a goodbye she didn’t want to make real. Not after she whispered that he knew where to find her. That she was still willing to give them a chance, but this time, they as a whole had a price. And he needed to cover it in its entirety.

When her absence has finally caught up to him, Max got angry.

Not at her, but at the hole she left behind. At himself for not begging her to stay, even though that goes against everything he is as a person. At the way grief still had its claws in his chest even when he thought he’d buried it deep enough to allow himself to love again.

She said she understood. She acted like she did for so long. But then she left. She promised she wasn’t asking for more than he could give, and then she still walked away when he couldn’t give it fast enough. It felt like betrayal to Max, twisted and misplaced, but real.

After that, he threw himself into work like he always did: training, simulation, back-to-back race weekends. Late nights at the gym, longer ones behind the wheel. But no matter how many laps he ran, no matter how fast he drove, he couldn’t outpace the noise inside his own head. At times, it felt as if it tried to deafen him completely. And sometimes, there were so many voices in there that they overlapped and he had the impression that he could go mad.

It got worse when doubts started creeping in.

What if he’d ruined something good once again?

What if she was right, and he never actually moved on, not from grief, not from guilt, not from his dead wife?

He couldn’t trust himself anymore. The same instincts that made him a four-time World Champion now betrayed him on track. He second-guessed overtakes, overcorrected in turns, and crashed into his rivals on purpose.

The paddock noticed it, so did the press. Max Verstappen didn’t make mistakes, until he did. And the worst part of all: he stopped caring.

His despair was subtle at first. It bled in during the long flights, in the lonely hotel rooms, and in the silence after a shitty race. He tried texting her a couple of times, but it was always short, dry, and empty. She responded kindly, as usual, but never let it go further. Though Max hated it, he respected that, because he respected her, even if he thought it was bullshit. All of it.

It wasn’t until one particularly sleepless night, many months after she left, that the loneliness finally did what the anger couldn’t: it made his mind quiet. It made him sit with himself and be brutally honest. Realistically, he realized that no trauma will ever completely heal. A shadow of guilt will always follow him, no matter who he ends up becoming, what he achieves in his career and who’s going to be there with him.

That night, Max stood in front of the mirror, the ring on his finger slightly sparkling in the bathroom light. It somehow looked dull, like it, too, got tired from being worn by a man who didn’t know how to let go. Only this time, he didn’t see his wife. Instead, he saw the woman who stayed even when he didn’t have the words to explain himself, the one who kissed him like she was pouring pieces of herself into the cracks of him, the one who left not to hurt him out of spite, but to save them both. Or at least try.

And he understood that the ring didn’t remind him of grief anymore. It reminded him of who managed to give it a whole another meaning. It reminded him of what he stood to lose if he didn’t start choosing life instead of loss. And just like that, still panicking on the inside, he figured a new way of feeling the pain and owning it without hurting so much.

Max’s fingers trembled, but he took it off. He took. The damn ring. Off.

And something about the silence cracked open the moment he did it. At first, it was a strange numbness, like his skin and limbs and even his thoughts didn’t belong to him. Then the trembling turned into tremors. His hands shook so badly that the ring slipped from his palm, clinking against the sink like a warning. He had a tiny impulse to put it back, but he didn’t. His breath hitched, chest rising in short bursts that couldn’t catch enough air. The walls of the room seemed to press in, tighter and tighter, so he gripped the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned white. His heart thudded violently between his lungs, and he could hear it.

Then his knees gave out, and he collapsed to the cold tile floor, curled onto his side, eyes wide and unfocused as his mind raced with fear — am I dying? Is this how it ends? All alone…

He didn’t call anyone. He didn’t move, because he couldn’t. He just lay there, whispering to himself that he deserved this. That maybe this was part of it: the punishment, the penance, the cost of finally letting go. But he’d chosen grief so long, it felt wrong to be free of it. And, ultimately, he ended up convincing himself it was better that way, but every time he looked at the empty space on his finger, he wondered how long she’d wait. If she was still waiting at all.

He couldn’t stand the thought of her saying no after that, so he never texted her again.

IT’S A RANDOM Tuesday when Max is in the pet aisle, squinting at a row of identical cat food cans, wearing an old Red Bull hoodie from the early 2010s. The hood is up, casting a shadow over his face, a subtle shield against the world.

He isn’t expecting anything. Maybe a fan or two who may recognize him. But not her. However, the second she walks through the automatic doors, pushing her cart slowly, head tilted like she’s scanning the shelves for something specific, he sees her. Her hair is a little shorter now. Her coat swings open as she walks, and she’s humming softly to herself, unaware.

Until she turns, and her eyes meet his. Time doesn’t stop, but it does slow, just enough for Max’s chest to go tight. And they both realize it at the same time: they’re going to have to choose. Quickly. A nod and a half-smile, play it off like strangers passing in the middle of something ordinary.

Or talk.

Max does it before she gets the chance to. He doesn’t even glance at the shelves again. His hand reaches out and grabs two random cans of cat food, the labels facing the wrong way, something he wouldn’t normally touch. But it’s not about the cat food anymore.

It’s about how she notices the way Max squeezes the cans in his hands, and how his left hand, in particular, molds around the circular container, making her heart stop for a beat.

“Your hand’s all naked,” her mouth talks without her permission the moment he gets close enough for him to hear her; the fact that it’s the first thing she tells him doesn’t come as a suprise for either of them.

Max smiles a little, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Uh, yeah,” he says quietly, looking down at it like he hadn’t realized it himself until now. “It’s been for a while.”

They stand there, hands full of domestic normalcy, bodies not quite knowing what to do next.

“Hi,” her lips curl slightly into something that isn’t quite a smile, but not quite neutral either.

“Hi,” he echoes, voice a little raspier than he’d like. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” adds Max, glancing around like maybe the store has changed since he last looked.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, looking anywhere but at him.

There’s too much unsaid between them to make small talk feel right. Too many memories that exist in kitchens and beds and mornings with whispers and kisses. And yet they try.

“You look good,” Max says, his eyes flicking up and down, unsure of where to land. “Shorter hair suits you.”

She nods. “Thanks. You look…,” her voice trails off, checking him out from head to toe in order to find something nice to connect with, but when she can’t do that, she chooses to be honest instead. “Tired.”

Max smiles, but looks defeated as he does. “Not sleeping much.”

“Work?”

He hesitates. “And everything else.”

They both look like they want to leave but can’t quite make their feet move. It feels like there’s too much air between them, and yet, too many things have already been said, cried out, and broken open like bones that never healed right. Max can feel it rising in his throat. It’s bitter and sweet all at once. The fucking guilt. The longing. It’s her, actually. Right here, in front of him again, after eleven months and three days of not seeing her. Of only surviving her through old texts and ghost limbs.

His fingers twitch around the cans.

She’s standing like she’s braced for impact, but her eyes finally land all over him: his face, the hoodie she actually wore a few times before when she was waiting for him to come back home, his hand, his left hand. His bare left hand.

“This is weird, right?” Max finally asks, his voice sounding like he hasn’t spoken a single word for weeks.

She lets out a sigh. “A little, yeah,” she agrees, nodding.

And still, neither of them moves.

“You know, I almost didn’t come in,” she admits, fingers curling tighter around her cart. “I was parked outside for, like, ten minutes just sitting there. Because I realized this is your neighborhood and I’d risk seeing you,” she adds quickly.

Max feels his heart racing again before he even understands it. His throat goes dry, and when he speaks, he sounds hurt. “You didn’t want to see me?”

She blinks, startled, like she hadn’t expected the question to come out that way. “No,” she breathes. “No, Max, that’s not what I meant.”

He holds her gaze, and this close, he can see the sheen of emotion swimming in her eyes. There’s no anger in there anymore. Just, maybe, a little ache.

“It’s nice to see you,” she says. “I did want to see you so badly that I almost turned the car around, because I wasn’t sure if I could handle it.”

Max’s chest caves inward, his brows drawn together like the weight of all those lost months just landed right between his ribs. “Well, I think you’re handling it very well,” he jokes, but she doesn’t laugh, which makes his smile fade a little, not knowing if he crossed a line he shouldn’t have.

She looks down for a moment, biting at her kower lip, then back up. “I think you do, too.”

They both go quiet again, surrounded by fluorescent lights and grocery store music and the quiet chatter of other people, but none of it registers. The world has narrowed down to just them in the shortest time, like it always did. Knowing someone so intimately does that to a space, no matter how big or small.

Max rubs the back of his neck, like he’s trying to release the tension lodged there. “Listen, I don’t want to do this here. In front of the cat food and the Goldfish treats.”

His words earn the smallest smile from her, just for a second. “And what is this, exactly?”

He stops, looking around in order to get his thoughts together. “If you’re not busy, I was about to order a pizza for dinner,” Max hesitates, then adds quickly, “I swear, I just want to talk. I just…” he runs a hand over his jaw. “I haven’t been able to say anything that matters in a long time, and I want to. I owe you.”

She swallows, wary. “You don’t owe me anything, Max. Not anymore.”

He shakes his head. “I owe you my time.”

He sees the way her brow furrows, confusion flickering across her face, and Max knows she doesn’t understand what he means by that. And he can’t quite tell her that he means all the months he spent with her while only giving her a fraction of himself, because the most part was still buried in grief, clinging to a past he couldn’t change. He means the smiles she gave him that he didn’t return fast enough, the quiet ways she showed up for him while he kept one foot in a world that no longer existed. He means every second he spent being afraid to choose them, and every moment he let that fear win. What he owes her is his precious time, the kind that’s undivided, intentional, and fully present.

The time he should’ve been spending loving her without hesitation. Without conditions.

The time he still hopes to give, if she’ll let him.

THE MOMENT HE turns the key in the lock and nudges the door open, the apartment comes alive with a flurry of soft meows and pattering paws. Jimmy is the first to appear, coming out from the hallway with the usual cheeky air, followed by Sassy, who practically chirps in recognition when she sees that her owner is not alone.

The girl barely has time to step out of her shoes before the cats are circling her feet, tails high, meowing as if they’ve been abandoned for weeks. They don’t hesitate, don’t even sniff to confirm, yet the purring starts instantly, the kind of sound they only made when she used to come home late and curl up with them on the couch. Both cats cling to her like she’s their mother, like home walked back through the door after years of waiting.

Max watches it all unfold, frozen, with the cans stacked on top of the other still in hand.

“Fuckin’ assholes,” he complains under his breath, shutting the door behind him. “The only reason I even left the apartment was because they wouldn’t shut up about being hungry. And now they won’t even look at me,” adds Max, a little irritated.

She looks up with a smirk and gently takes the cans from his hand. “Allow me,” she says with a mock bow, brushing past him on her way to the kitchen with the ease of someone who still remembers exactly where everything is.

Max leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching her open the cabinets to pull out the tiny cat dishes they once picked together at a pet store in Italy. Her movements are fluid, the muscle memory guiding her every gesture; the clink of the spoon against the dish, and the way she splits the food evenly, as if it still matters that Sassy used to pout when Jimmy got more.

The remembering. That’s what gets to him every single time. The way it all looks like she wasn’t away for months. The way his own pets remember her scent and presence — more than that, they crave it. And they’re not the only ones, he figures.

Eventually, Max leaves her to it and goes to order the food he promised, knowing that he will be ignored anyway, at least until the cats eat and get bored of playing. The pizza arrives just as she finishes washing her hands, and they settle on the couch like they’ve done a hundred times before, the box open between them, the cats finally dozing at their feet.

For a moment, the quiet sets peacefully around them and it almost feels like they never fell apart at all. Their legs don’t touch, but the distance isn’t as wide as it used to be. Between bites, their eyes meet, without causing unnecessary tension, just a bittersweet quiet wrapped in intimacy. He watches the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and she catches the way he still wipes his fingers on his thighs, like always.

Finishing his second slice, Max finally decides to disturb the peace. “Thanks for giving them some attention,” he says, pointing at the cats that are now back in their donut beds. “They’ve been such jerks lately.”

She glances at the cats, her gaze softening. “You know they treat you like you treat them.”

He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth lift. “I’ve been nothing but an endless fountain of joy around them since you left, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her smile falters the second his sarcasm slips out. And suddenly, the guilt wraps around her ribs like a vice, because she had no idea just how lonely it must have been. She tried to imagine it a few times, sure, but the truth is always harsher.

“Back at the store,” she begins, a little hesitant, “You said it’s been a while since you took it off.”

Max takes a moment before he nods, not immediately meeting her gaze. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you… you know,” she says, gesturing at his hand. “I thought that was our agreement.”

He swallows, running his fingers over his jaw, which he often does when he’s struggling to think of the right thing to say. “And say what? Thank you for waiting, I’m ready to finally offer you more than the bare minimum?” he says in a sarcastic tone, shaded by a trace of anger. “You deserve better.”

She doesn’t speak right away. Just watches him with those eyes that always made him feel seen. Like she could read the gaps between his words, without needing anything else but him.

The girl shrugs. “That would’ve been a start,” she says casually, taking the pizza box and putting it on the coffee table in front of them.

Max almost flinches at the thought. It tastes so wrong in his mouth, because he doesn’t want to act as if the time they spent together was just a draft. He wants what they had and what they were. The laughter in the kitchen. Her voice humming in the bathroom. The weight of her body curling toward his in the middle of the night when she thought he was asleep. The way she used to look at him like he wasn’t broken beyond repair.

“I don’t want a start,” he insists. “I want what we left behind.”

Her brows lift slightly, her expression unreadable, but her lips part like she’s about to speak. He beats her to it.

“It’s been fucking awful,” the words come out unfiltered. “Missing you, I mean,” he explains, like the thought has been sitting on his brain for months, maybe since the second she walked out of his life. “Not just in passing. Every day.”

His hand moves without thinking, crossing a distance far greater than the space between them, and when his calloused fingers curl gently around hers, all those months of pain fade somewhere into a distant past. Her skin is just as he remembers, warm and soft like silk. The touch is tender, Max’s thumb brushing the back of her hand like he’s reminding himself that she’s real, and not just a figment of his twisted imagination.

He doesn’t want to go beyond the invisible line they’ve both drawn, but when she squeezes him gently, it’s more than a confirmation. It’s her equally strong desire to return to their own normalcy. And after that, it takes almost nothing, maybe just a look and the smallest shift in the air, and he pulls her in his lap.

Her legs straddle him, fitting there with maddening ease. Her hands wrap around the back of his neck, fingertips threading into his hair, playing with it absentmindedly like it’s second nature.

The sudden closeness forces him to breathe in sharply, inhaling her scent that fans across his lips.

“Max...” she whispers, her face tilting toward his, eyes dropping to his mouth as if kissing him is inevitable.

But he can’t have that. What good thing has ever come so easily in his life? Twice.

Max’s hand presses against her waist to push her away, and his head turns as a response. At that, she stills in his arms, eyes searching his face.

“Liefje?” she whispers again, hurt and confused.

He shakes his head, still avoiding to look at her. “I can’t.”

She frowns. “Why?”

Finally, Max’s eyes flick to hers as he swallows the lump in his throat. The blue in them is dark and faded, and it scares her a little. They’re glassy, full of things he’s never been good at saying out loud. “Because I don’t... I don’t deserve it,” he says, quiet like a confession passed through gritted teeth.

Her hands slide from his neck to either side of his face, forcing him to keep his gaze on her.

“Look at me,” she demands when he tries to look away again, but it sounds almost pleading. She can feel the way his muscles are tense beneath her, how hard he’s trying to stay composed. “You think I’d be here if I didn’t want to?” she asks.

His mouth opens, shuts, then opens again, “How could you possibly still want this?”

Her thumbs brush along his cheekbones, pressing closer, her nose brushing his. “Because you want this,” she replies simply. “I left because I thought you didn’t want us, and that hurt the most.”

Max flinches, “I did,” he nods, “Want us.”

“The ring on your finger told a different story at the time,” she smiles, a trace of sadness shadowing her face.

“I’m sorry,” it’s all he says.

She tilts his chin slightly, kissing the corner of his mouth, careful. She understands that, after all, this is their dynamic. She’ll always have to wait for him, one way or another. Do everything at Max’s pace. It may not be ideal, but it has worked in the past, when the tallest walls separated them.

He lets out a trembling breath, arms circling her waist to bring her closer.

“Please,” she whispers, “Let me kiss you.”

This time, his lips crash into hers with a desperate need. Her attempt was soft, but there’s nothing gentle in the way needs her. It’s heat and hunger and all the months of silence and aching compressed into one kiss. His fingers move to cup her face, and he groans against her mouth, finally letting go.

She shifts as the kiss deepens, slowing down until it becomes worshipful.

“I missed you,” he says again.

She smiles through the ache in her chest. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Her hips move unconsciously, but it’s enough for Max to catch her meaning. The girl slides forward and presses down right where he’s already hard beneath her. The friction hits hard between them, and they both still for a moment. Max breathes in through his teeth, and a silent gasp stutters out, all distance suddenly dissolved.

She traces down the curve of his neck, over his collarbones and lower, palms gliding across the fabric of his hoodie. It’s soft and worn, but it hides too much for her liking. So she hooks her fingers underneath it, pushing up, and Max doesn’t stop her. He lifts his arms, helps her peel it off, and the warmth of his skin underneath makes her breath catch in her throat. The muscles of his torso flex as he breathes, tight and lean, built by years of control and discipline.

But right now, he’s giving her none of that control. He just looks at her like he’s ready to rip his heart out and give it to her on a silver platter. With a smile on his face.

Her blouse is next, coming off in a smooth motion. And then, before she can say anything more, he shifts quickly underneath her. In a blink of an eye, he has her on her back, stretched out along the couch, his body poised above hers.

She barely has time to register the change in position before his mouth is back on hers, as possessive as it used to be, like the last kiss wasn’t nearly enough. Max’s lips trail down over her jaw and neck, leaving heat in his wake. Patient, he kisses along the edge of her bra, then he looks up at her. His pupils are blown wide, but there’s still that sliver of restraint behind them.

“Can I?” he asks, a tiny smile blooming in the corner of his mouth, because he already knows the answer.

She nods. “Yes.”

Swiftly, he unclasps her bra and slips it away, tossing it somewhere behind him. His hands slide down her sides as his mouth drops to her chest, breathing her in deeply. The first touch of his tongue on her nipple makes her inhale sharply, her hands flying to his back, gripping and squeezing. Max groans quietly against her skin when she arches up into him, and his hands weld themselves to her thighs to encourage her to wrap her legs around his waist. After that, he changes his position just slightly and grinds down into her, swallowing her whimpers with his mouth still latched onto her breast.

She closes her eyes, allowing herself to feel everything, all at once. His mouth moves from one nipple to the other, teasing, sucking, and she pulls him closer and closer by the shoulders, as if she can’t get enough of his weight. His presence. Him.

“Can you stay like this for a sec?” she asks in a trembling voice, the emotion evident in every word. She keeps him pressed down against her with her arms locked around his shoulders before Max can even process. “Just stay here, please.”

He lifts his head to search for her eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Then, he kisses between her breasts, and rests his forehead there, listening to her heartbeat decrease in intensity with each passing second. His weight is warm and secure around her, his breathing slowing, too. She brushes his hair back with one hand, and the other strokes his spine.

“I missed you, too,” she finally says. “So much it started making me sick.”

Max’s eyes flutter closed, but he’s content to just listen, offering her the space to speak her mind.

“I had to buy a weighted blanket,” she chuckles shyly. “I couldn’t sleep, either. My anxiety was so bad I felt like I was floating out of my skin.”

Max blinks, then slowly pushes up on his forearms to look at her fully. There’s concern etched into every inch of his face, and he sounds stern when he speaks again, “You never told me it got that bad.”

She shrugs, trying to brush it off. “Didn’t want to make you feel worse. You already blame yourself for everything else.”

His jaw tightens, fingers twitching against her ribs. “That’s for me to worry, right? You should’ve told me.”

With a small sigh, she shakes her head as if it doesn’t even matter anymore. “I’m telling you now.”

Her words settle into the air between them like a sudden change in gravity, and it makes Max still completely. It takes him a second to process what she’s said, and not just the meaning, but the weight of it. That she hurt too. That while he was spiraling in silence, buried in self-loathing and racing to outrun emotions he couldn’t face, she was also falling apart as quietly.

His forehead presses against hers, but this time, the tension in his shoulders give away the war he carries in his mind, the guilt and regret in his soul, the anger, and the fear that he might still mess this up. He chokes on a breath, the kind of harsh inhale you take before something breaks and can’t be stopped.

She can feel him slowly but surely detaching, so she doesn’t hesitate to bring him back to the present moment with her. She kisses him all over, not just his lips. A sweet series of soft, scattered kisses along his cheek, his temple, his nose. His shoulders. His collarbones. She kisses him as if that would cure him of all his guilt, insecurities and self-hatred.

Max lets out a broken laugh, unexpected yet warm, as she keeps going, clumsier now. “That’s how you used to kiss Sassy when you stepped on her paws,” he reminds her. “You didn’t break me, baby,” he assures her. “It’s not your fault.”

The words hang there, heavy with understanding, because he can see she feels guilty, as if his pain is somehow hers to fix. Even now. His heart cracks at the thought of her carrying that weight, but it also warms at her tenderness and the quiet way she’s trying to make everything stop hurting. For both of them.

He sighs. “Maybe we should just finish the food, hm?” Max offers, his tone laced with hesitation, trying to give her an out, without putting too much pressure.

She shakes her head instead, then stares at him for a second. While continuing to maintain eye contact, her hand moves down between them with purpose. The metallic sound of his zipper being undone slices through the air like a whip in an empty room, and Max’s body responds instantly, looking like he’s suddenly struggling to breathe, as she pushes his pants lower over his hips.

“I’m hungry for something else,” she says, smirking at him.

The last of their clothes disappear in a blur of heat and touch, the space between them closing until it’s completely gone, and not a speck of dust can seep in. Their bodies press together, skin on skin, making Max curse under his breath, his hands roaming her waist, thighs, and ribs, remembering the shape of her all over again. After taking the ring off, he convinced himself that being alone and deprived of her entirely was the new punishment. But now, he’s surprised to find out that no amount of penance could ever be worth losing her again.

She gasps when his lips catch her off guard, kissing her deeply, hand sliding south, slipping between silk folds already wet with want.

“Shit,” he whispers through gritted teeth, barely able to contain himself. “I forgot how soaked you get from a little nipple play.”

She moans faintly into his mouth, hips lifting with ease toward his touch. His fingers stroke through her slowly, savoring her sounds, while his middle finger presses in. Just the tip, to test her patience and give her all the time in the world to open up for him.

As if he’s under a spell, Max watches her face, completely transfixed. “I swear you’re trying to kill me,” he praises her deliriously, pushing his finger deeper. “You missed this, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” she hums, her nails digging lightly into his back, leaving faint love scratches behind.

At that, he smiles a little smug, and starts pumping his finger with much purpose. He’s on a mission now, intending to relearn every twitch and tiny flinch, because for some reason, making her come like this has become his new life’s purpose. And the fact that she’s obscenely wet, encourages him to keep going, gliding his finger in effortlessly, the slick noises echoing between them like he’s already halfway inside her with his cock instead.

“I fucking missed it, too,” he admits, voice cracking at the way he feels her clenching around him. Every time his finger strokes against that soft, spongy spot inside, her thighs lock around his wrist like Max is her puppeteer, hips canting up, chasing more. “There it is,” he says with satisfaction.

Without pulling away, he eases in another finger, curling them with surgical precision, dragging against that same spot until she’s shaking. Her tiny gasps turns into broken moans, high and breathless, her palms squeezing his shoulders harder. Max starts scissoring them in the way he knows it’ll make her see stars, stretching her open, happy to watch her squirm and melt because of him.

“Want me to keep going until you can’t think straight?”

She tries to answer, but all that comes out is just another pathetic whimper. Her slick coats his knuckles, dripping down his palm, earning a low hum from Max while driving his fingers faster.

“So tight and desperate,” he says mostly to himself. “Let me see you,” his thumb finds her clit, rubbing delicious circles as his fingers keep fucking up into her, stretching her sweetly.

Her reaction is immediate: her whole body jerks, thighs quivering as her pussy fights to hold him in, harder than before.

“Max,” she tries to warn him in a shaky voice.

He doesn’t even hesitate. Instead, he pulls his fingers out and dives in on instinct, burying his face between her thighs like a man starved. His tongue replaces where his fingers had just been, fucking into her with messy, greedy strokes. Max grips her thighs, making sure to groan loudly into her, wanting her to hear exactly how much he’s enjoying this. She keens, hands flying to his hair as he eats her out with a kind of reckless devotion that leaves her gasping for air.

Her orgasm crashes over her with an unexpected loud cry. Her hips arch off the couch, body convulsing as she soaks his face, a warm flood dripping down his chin and onto the cushion beneath him. Max agrees satisfied, like he lives for this, licking her through it until she’s shuddering and whimpering and very much not thinking straight, trying to push him away from overstimulation.

He pulls back with a glossy mouth, chin dripping, and eyes blown wide. That clear blue has finally returned, contrasting beautifully against the bright pink of his flushed face. His hair is a mess, and he’s breathing hard like he just came. She wishes she could paint him like that, but she knows that no brush would ever do justice to the beauty she sees in him.

“My god, Max,” she laughs, still breathless, reaching up to pull him toward her. She wipes his chin with her palm, eyes half-lidded, before tugging him in for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. “You’re such a show-off.”

He smirks, resting his forehead to hers. “Well, I am a professional.”

“Oh yeah?” she teases, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Did they add that as part of your pre-race routine?”

Max shrugs with a deceptively serious expression on his face. “Helps with focus. And finger control.”

The girl chuckles. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re perfect,” he replies quickly, leaning in to finish their kiss.

His lips are soft and plumped, and they give her the second she needs to breathe before the air shifts. Max’s hand cups her cheek, and when he looks at her, his voice drops, eyes filled with a tamed concern.

“You okay?” he asks, the kind of okay that means are you still with me?

It’s the care behind his voice that gets to her. The one that she only saw a couple of times in him, when Max really let her see the purest version of him. The version that’s not on any screen, nor the version that walks out the door everyday to go to work. This Max is too soft, afraid, and weak. Or so people would say if they’d know.

She finds it hard to speak, instead, she reaches down, fingers curling around his cock. She nudges the thick head through her folds, dragging it up and down in maddening passes, not letting him in, just coating it in the mess he made of her. It’s a sweet tease, a challenge, and a bit of revenge from her side, that gets the expected reaction out of him: Max whines, and his hips twitch in anticipation.

But before she can do it again, he bucks forward just enough to slip between her lips. Not inside. Just there. Nestled. Pressed. Bothering.

“Shit,” she gasps at the drag of his cock against her folds. Is too much already, yet not enough, her body betraying her before she can play it cool.

Max laughs at her failed attempt, dragging himself up her slit again, slow and sticky. “What do you think you’re doing, schatje?”

She moans, frustrated. “Nothing.”

He keeps going, rubbing himself through her wetness, teasing her entrance, but never pushing in. After all, she just showed him how to, didn’t she? It’s punishment for both of them, his cock is throbbing, coated in her, and every pass just winds them tighter.

“You feel that?” asks Max in a quiet whisper. “That’s how much you want me,” he continues, finally pushing in. The stretch is sweet, tight and wet and warm, and the moment he’s fully inside, everything goes still. He lets out a relieved sigh, his head dropping to her shoulder, “And this is how much I want you.”

Perfection in just the right amount. Being inside her like this shuts his brain off and, soon enough, the silence inside his skull becomes addictive.

The first thrust feels like coming home.

The second thrust brings all the memories back.

The third thrust makes her eyes roll, her hands clutching at his arms, hips trying to chase every retreat he makes.

Max has to grip her tighter to keep her in place, and gently pushes her thighs apart wider. He watches the way she spreads, how easily she welcomes him, and it lights something heavy in him, but also devastatingly tender. It pushes him to slide in again and again, deeper and deeper, and the sound she lets out has the power to knock the breath out of his lungs.

It’s not difficult to find their rhythm. That perfect pace that makes it feel less like fucking and more like a love language only they understand. Every push and pull is a new promise. Every moan, a certainty that they will keep those promises this time. As the pleasure builds, they understand it’s more than that. It’s healing. With every stroke and every breathless sound between them, they’re stitching something back together. Something they thorned and fractured because they didn’t know better, now is slowly mending, making them stronger than they’ve ever been.

Max fucks her like he’s never going to get another chance to be this whole again. Like this is the last time it’ll ever hurt, and the first time they’re finally allowed to live. Their bodies slap together, the sounds echoing like music against the walls; it’s hot, thirsty, a song made by them, just for them. He keeps her open, holding her thighs in place because he wants to see all of it. The way she takes him. The way she glistens for him. The way she gives herself so fully, without flinching. And if she can do that — if she can give him this —, then maybe he’s not broken beyond repair.

He fucks into her harder, hips slamming and claiming. It’s like his darkest side cracked open and poured out all the ugly through need, hope, love, all tangled in sweat and skin and moans and and and.

“Fuck, Max. Yes, you feel so good,” her praise makes him sob, hips jerking like he’s being praised for something holy.

He leans down to kiss her, but they’re both too far gone. It ends up being just open mouths, shared breath, moans between lips that can’t quite meet, not with how their bodies are still colliding, over and over.

“Mine,” Max spits out breathless, as he feels her start to tighten around his cock, fluttering repeatedly like her body is begging to fall apart with him.

Her hands curl around his biceps in order to be able to meet his thrusts halfway, nails digging in. “All yours,” she wails.

He shifts her legs higher around his waist, his hand sliding beneath her knee to angle her just right, and when he thrusts again, her whole body jolts. “Right there?” he asks, watching her eyes closing shut, her mouth falling open. “Ja, that’s it. That’s how my baby needs it.”

Her entire body shakes with pleasure, panting with every thrust as he drives into her with a need that’s no longer just physical. It’s every moment he missed her, every second he hated himself for letting her walk away, instead of ripping that ring off his hand, finger and all.

Max’s voice breaks against her skin, “You have any idea what you did to me for eleven months?”

She nods, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Of course you do,” Max smiles into her neck, maintaining the pace, sweat dripping from his brow as her walls spasm around him, pulling him deeper. “You know I jerked off to the thought of you every night,” he continues, the confession nearly unraveling him. “Couldn’t touch anyone else because your pretty face was everywhere I looked.”

Her fingers slide into his hair, pulling gently. “My good boy,” she purrs, and the sound he makes in response is feral, like it strips him down to his most basic instinct.

Max cries out, thrusts faltering for a second before he slams into her harder. “Say that again,” he demands in a pleading voice.

“You’re my good boy,” she whispers, then kisses his cheek, smiling as he loses himself a little more. “You always were.”

The words wreck him. He breathes wetly into her neck, almost embarrassed by how much he needs to hear it, and how much he actually craves being her good boy. Beneath his though exterior, there’s always been a constant need to belong to someone entirely. Not out of weakness, but out of a desire to be seen and chosen. To be loved, treasured, and protected like he mattered. Because as a kid, those things came rarely, if ever. And though Max learned to survive without them, part of him never stopped longing for that kind of love. The kind he once found and lost, the kind he almost recklessly pushed away. The kind she gave him, without asking for anything but his love in return.

“I didn’t let anyone else touch me, either,” she continues, breathless but determined to let him know, her fingers now tracing down his spine. “Told every guy that hit on me I had a boyfriend waiting for me at home. Did I lie, Maxie?”

He moans louder, his body surging forward like something inside him just snapped. His thrusts grow rougher, driven by the need to prove her right. To remind her that she is, indeed, his, and no one else can ever make her feel this way.

“No,” replies Max. “You’re mine,” he pants, “My little kitten, ja?”

She laughs, half-sob, half-moan, body shaking as she clings to him.

Somehow, his lips find her breast again, latching onto her nipple like it’s instinct. He sucks on it a little rough, making her head bury further into the couch cushion with a soft whimper. She’s obsessed with The Feel of Max — his weight, the way he pushes into her and how his skin presses into hers, the sound of his breath against her chest. Every cell in her body burns for him, a deep fire that’s been waiting to reignite since the moment she did one of the hardest things: removing herself from her heart, because she had to choose herself for once.

His left hand reaches for hers blindly, pulling her out of the dreamy state she’s fell into. Max threads their fingers together and pins them above her head against the cushions. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she clutches his hand tighter, her stomach flipping with emotion. Her eyes fly open, not from surprise but from the intensity of it and how light it is. It’s impossible not to feel the difference; that tiny missing weight that used to sit there like a wall between them.

Max notices the shift in how she exhales, in the way her body clings to his. He doesn’t ask, but he knows.

“I see you,” he says. “I fucking see you, baby.”

She sobs out a sigh, something between a moan and an overwhelmed yes.

“You feel so good. So good, my love,” repeats Max again and again, like he can’t say it enough. “I’m never letting anything come between us, I swear.”

His honesty is poured into every thrust, every kiss against her jaw, her mouth, her neck and shoulder. Everything she needed to hear, he’s saying now, as if he finally realizes that she’s been waiting. And he knows she believes him. He feels it. Feels it in the way her walls flutter around his length faster, needier. Sees how her hips lift to meet his and how her chest expandes rapidly.

Her stomach coils tight, pleasure rising sharp inside her, “Max, if you don’t shut up,” she cries, “I’m gonna fucking come all ov—”

He laughs softly against her lips, silencing her, but he doesn’t stop. “Make a mess for me then,” he encourages her, thumb brushing her cheek. “I’ve got you.”

He does. He always did.

With Max’s name on her tongue, his hand in hers, and every part of her clinging to him like gravity isn’t ever going to be enough again, she lets go. Her climax sends him spiraling, soaking everything, from the couch to his thighs and cock, with the kind of release that leaves no question how much she needed him. He wraps one arm around her waist in order to keep himself present as he shoves in deep one last time and stills, body shaking.

“Fuuuck,” Max chokes, forehead falling to her collarbone.

His cock throbs as he empties himself into her, her body welcoming every drop from him. His heart is hammering against her ribs, and he needs to breathe her in a few times before lifting his head, eyes glazed as they drop to where their bodies are still connected.

The sight nearly makes him come again.

Her thighs are trembling, spread wide, their slick mixed with his cum, smeared across her skin and his cock and the ruined couch. It’s absolute chaos, and he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

Satisfied, he collapses onto her fully, letting his weight sink into her just like he knows she needs. The girl sighs, breath tickling his temple, her hands finding his arms, scratching soft patterns along his skin. Goosebumps rise in waves, but Max doesn’t move. He just melts into her, letting her touch soothe him.

Her body acts before her brain has time to process. Gently, she lifts his hand and presses her lips to each knuckle. One by one. Then soft pad beneath his thumb. His palm, and the faint scar across it. She remembers how he caught the knife by the blade that night, and all the blood that spilled into the sink.

“Come home,” he whispers, voice cracking from the effort of saying it aloud. “Please.”

When there’s no answer, Max’s hands grip her waist, but he can’t find the strength to get up and look at her.

“Please,” he repeats. “I want to cook for you. Fight with you over stupid shit. Watch you fall asleep on this couch again. Just… let me love you right, baby.”

She closes her eyes, breathing in deeply. Max’s scent clings to her skin, to her hair, to the air around them, and that mix of sweat and sex drives her insane. It’s in the crook of her neck, on the inside of her thighs, behind her knees, soaked into her very inhale and exhale. It’s impossible to tell where she ends and he begins.

“What did you do with the ring?”

Max stills. Not the soft kind of stillness that comes from rest after sex, but the rigid kind, where his muscles lock and his breath stops short, like her words caught him mid-step somewhere deep inside himself. And unfortunately, she feels it in the way his touch pauses, not pulling away, but no longer moving forward either.

Her heart sinks into her stomach.

She hadn’t meant it to feel like an ambush, or a test she didn’t even want the answer to in the first place. But the silence stretches just long enough that fear creeps in. And her mind is relentless, thoughts flying around, mean and uninvited: It still means something to him. Maybe more than you ever will.

But then Max’s voice cuts through all that, pushing all the dark clouds aside.

“I gave it back to her,” he says. “Took it to her grave and—”

“I’m sorry,” she cuts him off, fighting the tears in her eyes. She reaches to cradles his face in her hand, thumb sweeping gently across his cheek. His skin is warm beneath her touch, his stubble coarse. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

It’s his turn to interrupt her this time. “It’s okay,” Max assures her. “You were right. I needed to let it go if I wanted to be here. With you. It’s just… I am sorry it took so long.”

“No,” the girl shakes her head. “We can’t get mad at time for doing its thing,” she says gently.

Max’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t realize how badly he needed to hear that until it lands in him, like puzzle pieces falling into place. His eyes drift, settling on the digital clock glowing faintly on the wall. At the same time yesterday, he was lying in a cold bed, silence drilling through his ears louder than anything else. Swallowed whole by a grief so dark it didn’t even feel like sadness anymore. It was just a big hole of nothing.

A day later, he’s pressed against her, inside her, held by her. Breathing the same air as her.

Even though she didn’t say yes yet, even though he still has troubles sleeping, he’s content with the fact that the clock has reset itself for him. And for the first time since he got that call, he’s at peace.

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

Thank you for reading!

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© trashy track tales, 2025

[archivegyu]

masterlist

tiny muscles & cute smoothies

: the art of being a girl dad

dad! choi seungcheol ll uncles! seventeen members ll 6k words

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the Choi household, casting golden stripes across the hardwood floors. Seungcheol stirred awake to the sound of tiny feet pattering down the hallway, followed by what could only be described as the world’s most dramatic sigh from a six-year-old.

“Daddy?” Naeun’s voice carried through the door, accompanied by three gentle knocks that had become their secret code. “Are you awake? Because I’ve been awake for… um…” He could practically hear her counting on her fingers. “Seven minutes! That’s basically forever!”

Seungcheol chuckled into his pillow, his heart doing that familiar flip it always did when his daughter’s voice reached his ears. Three days into his wife’s business trip to Singapore, and he was still marveling at how Naeun managed to fill every corner of their house with her presence, even when she was trying to be quiet.

“Come in, princess,” he called, pushing himself up against the headboard just as the door burst open.

Naeun bounded into the room wearing mismatched socks—one with tiny cacti, the other with rainbow stripes—and her favorite purple pajamas that were getting a bit too short in the sleeves. Her hair stuck up in about seventeen different directions, a clear indication that she’d been plotting something since dawn.

“Daddy, I have a very important question,” she announced, climbing onto the bed with the seriousness of someone about to negotiate world peace. She settled cross-legged beside him, her dark eyes—so much like his own—sparkling with mischief.

“Hit me with it,” Seungcheol said, automatically reaching out to smooth down her unruly hair.

“Can I come to the gym with you today?”

The request caught him off guard. In the three years since they’d moved to this neighborhood, Naeun had shown exactly zero interest in his workout routine. If anything, she usually complained that his gym time meant less time for tea parties and building elaborate blanket forts.

“The gym?” he repeated, studying her face for any signs of fever or alien possession. “You want to come to the gym? With me? To work out?”

Naeun nodded so vigorously her whole body bounced. “Uh-huh! I’ve been thinking about it all morning. Well, actually, I’ve been thinking about it since yesterday when Uncle Mingyu was flexing his muscles and saying how he got them from the gym. And then I thought, if Uncle Mingyu can get muscles at the gym, maybe I can get muscles too!”

She held up her tiny arms and attempted to flex, her face scrunching up with concentration. The sight was so endearing that Seungcheol had to bite back a laugh.

“Plus,” she continued, dropping her arms and leaning closer conspiratorially, “Uncle Joshua said that gym people get to drink those colorful smoothies, and I really, really want to try a purple one. Do you think they have purple ones, Daddy?”

There it was. Seungcheol should have known there was an ulterior motive involving either food, drinks, or both. His daughter had inherited her mother’s strategic thinking, though thankfully she hadn’t quite mastered the art of subtlety yet.

“Well,” he said slowly, pretending to consider it seriously, “the gym can be pretty intense. There’s lots of heavy breathing, sweating, and…” He paused for dramatic effect. “Grunting.”

Naeun’s eyes widened. “Grunting? Like when Uncle Seokmin tries to open pickle jars?”

“Exactly like that, but louder.”

“I can handle grunting,” she declared with the confidence of someone who had clearly never been to a gym before. “I grunt all the time! Watch!” She proceeded to demonstrate with a series of small grunts that sounded more like a baby seal than anything remotely intimidating.

Seungcheol couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. “Alright, princess. You’ve convinced me. But we’ll need to set some ground rules.”

“Rules?” Naeun’s face fell slightly.

“Good rules,” he assured her quickly. “Like, you have to stay close to Daddy at all times, no touching any equipment without permission, and…” He grinned. “We definitely have to get smoothies afterward.”

The transformation was immediate. Naeun launched herself at him with a squeal of delight, wrapping her small arms around his neck. “Really? Really really?”

“Really really,” he confirmed, hugging her back. “But first, we need to get you some proper workout clothes.”

An hour later, after what could only be described as the most elaborate outfit selection process in the history of six-year-olds, Naeun emerged from her room wearing pink leggings, a sparkly unicorn t-shirt, and her light-up sneakers. She’d also insisted on a headband—not for practical purposes, but because she’d seen someone wearing one in a fitness commercial and thought it looked “very professional.”

“How do I look?” she asked, striking a pose that was equal parts superhero and ballet dancer.

“Like the strongest princess in the kingdom,” Seungcheol replied honestly.

The drive to the gym was filled with Naeun’s rapid-fire questions about everything from whether they’d see any celebrities (“Probably not, sweetie”) to whether she’d be strong enough to lift cars after one workout (“Maybe we should start with smaller goals”). Her excitement was infectious, and Seungcheol found himself looking forward to the experience almost as much as she was.

The gym was busier than usual for a Saturday morning, filled with the weekend warriors and fitness enthusiasts getting their routines in before the day took over. Several heads turned as they walked in—not because of Seungcheol, who was a regular, but because of the tiny girl beside him who was gaping at everything like she’d just entered Disney World.

As they made their way past the check-in counter, Seungcheol spotted familiar figures already warming up in their usual corner of the gym. Joshua was stretching on a mat, Mingyu was adjusting a bench press setup, and Wonwoo was programming something on the treadmill display. Their Saturday morning crew was all accounted for.

“Daddy,” Naeun whispered, tugging on his shirt, “it’s so big! And there are so many… machines! And Uncle Joshua! And Uncle Mingyu! And Uncle Wonwoo!” Her whisper grew progressively louder with each uncle she spotted.

“Looks like the whole crew is here,” Seungcheol murmured, leading her toward their usual area.

The moment Joshua spotted them approaching, his face broke into a huge grin. “Well, well, well,” he called out, pausing his stretching routine. “Looks like we have a special guest today.”

Naeun immediately ran toward her uncles, momentarily forgetting her gym shyness in the excitement of seeing familiar faces. “Uncle Joshua! Uncle Mingyu! Uncle Wonwoo! I’m here to get muscles!”

Mingyu straightened up from his bench setup, his face lighting up. “Muscles, huh? That’s serious business. You came to the right place.”

“And the right people,” Wonwoo added with his characteristic subtle smile, stepping off the treadmill. “We happen to be experts.”

Seungcheol felt a wave of gratitude for his friends. Having them here meant Naeun would feel more comfortable, and maybe—if he was lucky—he might actually get some of his own workout done too.

“Okay, princess,” Seungcheol said, crouching down to her level while the others gathered around. “The uncles and I usually work out together on Saturdays. Would you like to rotate between spending time with each of us while we exercise?”

Naeun’s eyes lit up like she’d just been offered the best deal of her life. “I get to work out with ALL of you?”

“That’s the plan,” Joshua said, already pulling out his phone to set a timer. “How about fifteen-minute rotations? That way everyone gets quality time with our newest gym member.”

“I’ll take first shift,” Mingyu volunteered immediately. “I was about to start with some light cardio warm-up anyway. Perfect for a beginner.”

“Dibs on second,” Joshua called out.

“That leaves me with third, and Seungcheol can take the final rotation,” Wonwoo concluded practically.

Naeun clapped her hands together. “This is the best plan ever! It’s like… like a muscle-building adventure with all my favorite people!”

˙✧˖°👟 ༘ ⋆｡˚🎧

Mingyu led Naeun to the cardio section with the enthusiasm of a tour guide showing off the world’s greatest attraction. “Alright, my little gym buddy, we’re going to start with something fun. Have you ever seen a treadmill before?”

“Is that the moving floor thing?” Naeun asked, eyeing the row of treadmills with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

“Exactly! But don’t worry, we’ll start slow. Like, really slow. Turtle-pace slow.”

He helped her onto the treadmill, setting it to the lowest possible speed and staying right beside her. Naeun’s face was a picture of concentration as she tried to match the belt’s movement, her arms swinging dramatically as if she was power-walking through a park.

“Uncle Mingyu, I think I’m flying!” she announced after about thirty seconds, having found her rhythm.

“You’re definitely flying,” he agreed, starting his own treadmill at a much higher pace. “We’re both flying. This is what they call a dynamic duo workout.”

While Mingyu handled his actual cardio routine, he kept up a steady stream of encouragement and conversation with Naeun, who had decided that treadmill walking was “like being in a magic moving world where you can run forever but never get anywhere.” Her philosophical take on cardio equipment was surprisingly profound.

˙✧˖°👟 ༘ ⋆｡˚🎧

When the timer went off, Joshua appeared with a yoga mat and the kind of gentle smile that made everyone feel immediately at ease. “My turn, little athlete. We’re going to work on flexibility and balance.”

“What’s flexibility?” Naeun asked, following him to a quiet area of the gym.

“It’s being able to move your body in lots of different ways without it hurting,” Joshua explained, settling down on the mat. “Like this.” He demonstrated a simple seated forward fold.

Naeun’s attempt was enthusiastic if not entirely accurate. “I’m bendy like a pretzel!” she declared, managing something that was part forward fold, part interpretive dance.

“You’re incredibly bendy,” Joshua agreed seriously. “Now let’s try some balance poses. Can you stand on one foot like a flamingo?”

What followed was fifteen minutes of the most adorable yoga session ever witnessed in that gym. Naeun attempted various poses with complete dedication, providing running commentary about how each position reminded her of different animals or foods. Her “downward dog” looked more like a “confused cat,” and her “tree pose” resembled a “wobbly telephone pole,” but her enthusiasm was infectious.

Joshua, meanwhile, flowed through his actual yoga routine with practiced ease, occasionally helping Naeun adjust her form or offering new “animal poses” for her to try.

˙✧˖°👟 ༘ ⋆｡˚🎧

Wonwoo’s approach was characteristically methodical. He’d set up a small area with light weights, resistance bands, and exercise balls—basically a mini gym within the gym, perfectly sized for a six-year-old.

“Welcome to strength training 101,” he said formally, as if addressing a new recruit. “Today we’ll be focusing on functional movements and proper form.”

Naeun nodded seriously, clearly impressed by the official tone. “I’m ready for strength training 101, Uncle Wonwoo.”

He handed her a pair of one-pound weights. “These are your training weights. We’ll start with basic movements—bicep curls, shoulder raises, and squats.”

What Seungcheol observed from across the gym, while doing his own workout, was perhaps the most methodical exercise session a six-year-old had ever participated in. Wonwoo demonstrated each movement with precision, and Naeun mimicked him with surprising accuracy, her tongue poking out in concentration.

“Uncle Wonwoo, are you sure these weights aren’t magic?” she asked after completing a set of bicep curls. “Because I think I can already feel my muscles growing.”

“The magic is in the consistency and proper form,” Wonwoo replied seriously. “You’re doing excellent work.”

˙✧˖°👟 ༘ ⋆｡˚🎧

By the time Seungcheol’s turn came around, he’d managed to complete most of his usual routine while keeping one eye on Naeun’s adventures with his friends. She bounded over to him with the energy of someone who’d just discovered her new favorite hobby.

“Daddy! I did cardio with Uncle Mingyu and yoga with Uncle Joshua and strength training with Uncle Wonwoo! I’m basically a professional athlete now!”

“I can see that,” Seungcheol said, noting her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “Are you ready for the final challenge?”

“What’s the final challenge?”

He led her to the rowing machines, the same ones she’d pointed at originally. “This is where we bring everything together—cardio, strength, and coordination.”

“Good choice. Those are for building strong backs.”

He helped her onto the seat of the rowing machine, adjusting it as much as possible for her tiny frame. Her feet barely reached the footrests, and her hands could barely wrap around the handle, but her determination was unwavering after her rotations with the uncles.

“Like this?” she asked, attempting to mimic the motion she’d observed.

“Almost. Here, let me show you.” Seungcheol positioned himself on the machine next to hers and demonstrated the proper form. “It’s like you’re rowing a boat. Pull back with your whole body, not just your arms.”

Naeun nodded seriously and gave it another try. Her form was questionable at best, but her enthusiasm more than made up for it. “I’m rowing to treasure island!” she announced, getting into the rhythm. “There’s going to be so much gold!”

They spent the remaining time on the rowing machines, with Naeun providing a running commentary about their imaginary journey to various exotic destinations. By now, she’d perfected the art of turning exercise equipment into props for elaborate adventures.

After about an hour and a half of rotations, Naeun began to show signs of fatigue. Her enthusiastic commentary became more sporadic, and she started leaning against Seungcheol more frequently. The uncles, who had all completed their own workouts while taking turns with their favorite niece, gathered around as she attempted one final rowing stroke.

“You know what, princess?” Seungcheol said casually. “I think we’ve all earned those smoothies.”

Her face lit up immediately. “Really? The purple ones?”

“Absolutely,” Joshua chimed in, wiping sweat from his forehead with a gym towel. “I think we all deserve a reward after that workout.”

“Group smoothie celebration!” Mingyu announced, flexing dramatically. “To honor our newest gym member!”

The gym’s smoothie bar was located in a small café area near the entrance, complete with comfortable seating and a menu full of colorful options. Naeun pressed her face against the glass display case, studying the available fruits and add-ins with the intensity of a scientist examining specimens.

“There’s so many choices!” she said, overwhelmed by the possibilities. “How do I pick just one?”

“Well,” Joshua said, settling into one of the café chairs, “you could always get recommendations from experts.”

“You’re all smoothie experts too?” Naeun’s eyes widened with respect.

“We’ve tried every flavor on this menu at least twice,” Wonwoo confirmed.

“Even the green ones?”

“Especially the green ones,” Mingyu said with a grin. “But for someone looking for a purple smoothie…” He studied the menu thoughtfully. “I’d recommend the berry blast with added acai. It’s purple, it’s delicious, and it’s packed with antioxidants.”

“Anti-what-ants?” Naeun looked confused.

“Antioxidants,” Seungcheol explained. “They’re good for you. They help your body stay healthy and strong.”

“Perfect!” Naeun declared. “I want the anti-ant smoothie!”

They placed their orders—a berry blast for Naeun, a protein-packed green smoothie for Seungcheol, Joshua opted for his usual post-workout chocolate peanut butter blend, Mingyu went with a tropical mango mix, and Wonwoo chose a simple strawberry banana combination. As they waited, they found a large table where they could all sit together.

Their smoothies arrived, and Naeun’s reaction to her first sip was worth documenting. Her eyes went wide, then closed in apparent bliss, and she made a small sound of approval that had all four adults chuckling.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” she declared. “It’s like… like drinking a rainbow!”

“That’s the antioxidants,” Mingyu said sagely. “They make everything taste better.”

As they sat in the café area, sipping their smoothies and watching the steady stream of gym-goers, Naeun regaled her uncles with detailed accounts of every exercise she’d tried with each of them. Her storytelling had grown more elaborate with each retelling, and by now her wall push-ups with Joshua had apparently been performed while “balancing on one foot like a flamingo.”

“And then,” she continued, gesturing dramatically with her smoothie cup, “Uncle Wonwoo taught me about functional movement, which I think means moving like you have a function, which I definitely do because my function is to get strong!”

“That’s… actually not a bad interpretation,” Wonwoo observed with amusement.

“And Uncle Mingyu showed me how to fly on the moving floor, and Uncle Joshua taught me yoga animals, and Daddy took me rowing to treasure island where we found the real treasure!” She held up her smoothie. “Purple treasure!”

Joshua laughed. “I think she’s got the right idea about rewards for hard work.”

“So,” Seungcheol asked, looking around the table at his friends, “same time next week? All of us?”

“You mean this is going to be a regular thing?” Wonwoo asked, though his slight smile suggested he wouldn’t mind.

“Well,” Naeun interjected before Seungcheol could answer, “I need to come back to keep building my muscles. And the uncles need to keep building their muscles too. And we all need to drink more purple treasure. So yes, it should definitely be regular.”

“The princess has spoken,” Mingyu said with a mock bow. “How can we argue with that logic?”

“We can’t,” Joshua agreed. “Looks like Saturday mornings just got a whole lot more interesting.”

As they chatted, Seungcheol found himself marveling at how natural this felt. His daughter, surrounded by her beloved uncles, glowing with pride over her morning’s accomplishments and completely at ease in a setting that was entirely new to her. She’d adapted to the gym environment with the same fearless curiosity she brought to everything else, turning what could have been an intimidating experience into an adventure.

“Daddy,” Naeun said, tugging on his sleeve. “Can we come back next week?”

“You want to come back?”

“Uh-huh! But next time, I want to try those spinning bike things that look like horses.”

Seungcheol followed her gaze to the spin class studio, where an instructor was leading an energetic session. “Those are stationary bikes for spinning classes. They’re pretty intense.”

“I can handle intense,” Naeun said confidently. “I’m strong now. Look!” She flexed her tiny biceps again, and this time, Seungcheol swore he could see the tiniest hint of definition.

“You know what?” he said, making a decision. “Let’s make this our regular Saturday morning tradition. Gym time followed by smoothie time.”

“Really?” Naeun’s face lit up like Christmas morning.

“Really. But only if you promise to keep working hard and listening to instructions.”

“I promise! Cross my heart and hope to fly!” She performed an elaborate gesture that was supposed to be crossing her heart but looked more like she was conducting an invisible orchestra.

“I think you mean ‘hope to die,’” Joshua corrected gently.

“No, hope to fly,” Naeun insisted. “That sounds much better.”

As they finished their smoothies and prepared to head home, Seungcheol’s phone buzzed with a text message. His wife, checking in from Singapore.

How’s my girl doing? Missing you both terribly!

He quickly typed back: She’s doing great. We’re at the gym. Yes, you read that right. I’ll explain later.

The response was immediate: The gym?! With Naeun?! I need photos and a full report.

Seungcheol glanced around at the scene—his daughter animatedly explaining something to Mingyu while Joshua and Wonwoo listened with amused attention, empty smoothie cups scattered across the table, Naeun’s cheeks still flushed with exertion and excitement.

He snapped a quick photo and sent it, followed by: Your daughter is officially a gym rat. She wants to come back next week.

I can’t wait to hear everything. Give her extra hugs from me.

“Daddy, who are you texting?” Naeun asked, finally noticing his phone.

“Mommy. She wanted to know how our gym day went.”

“Ooh, tell her about the treasure island! And the anti-ants! And how I’m probably strong enough to carry grocery bags now!”

Seungcheol dutifully typed out a condensed version of Naeun’s adventures, knowing his wife would want every detail when they talked later. As he typed, he realized that this day had become something he’d remember for a long time—not just because it was Naeun’s first gym experience, but because of the way she’d thrown herself into it with complete trust and enthusiasm.

“Alright, princess,” he said, pocketing his phone. “Ready to head home?”

“Can we take the long way? I want to see if my muscles are strong enough to walk extra far.”

“Of course we can take the long way.”

They said their goodbyes to Joshua, Mingyu, and Wonwoo, with promises to meet up again soon. As they walked to the car, Naeun chattering about all the things she wanted to try next week, Seungcheol felt a familiar warmth in his chest.

This was what he’d signed up for when he became a father—the unexpected adventures, the questions that came out of nowhere, the way a simple Saturday morning could turn into something magical just because his daughter was experiencing it for the first time.

“Daddy?” Naeun said as he helped her into her car seat.

“Yes, princess?”

“Thank you for taking me to the gym. It was the best adventure ever.”

“Thank you for asking to come with me. You made it the best gym day I’ve ever had.”

As they drove home, Naeun’s excited chatter gradually slowed, and by the time they pulled into their driveway, she was fast asleep in her car seat, her tiny hand still clutched around the empty smoothie cup. Seungcheol sat in the car for a moment, just watching her sleep, marveling at how someone so small could fill his heart so completely.

His phone buzzed with another message from his wife: Can’t wait to be home with my two favorite people. Save some adventures for me!

He smiled, typing back: Always. But I make no promises about the smoothie addiction. That one’s on you to handle.

Bring it on. I missed everything about home, even the chaos.

Seungcheol looked at his sleeping daughter, her face peaceful and her hair still sticking up in about twelve different directions despite his earlier attempts to smooth it down. In three days, his wife would be home, and they’d be a complete family again. But for now, it was just him and Naeun, and their Saturday morning tradition that was apparently going to involve a lot more protein powder and a lot fewer sleep-ins.

He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be doing.

As he carefully carried Naeun into the house, she stirred slightly and mumbled something about purple treasure and grocery bags before settling back into sleep. The moment they stepped through the front door, a white blur of excitement came bounding toward them—Kkuma, their fluffy dog, had clearly been waiting by the window for their return.

“Shh, Kkuma,” Seungcheol whispered, trying to calm the excited pup while still holding his sleeping daughter. “She’s tired from her big gym adventure.”

But Kkuma wasn’t having it. The little dog had missed his humans and was determined to give them a proper welcome home, complete with enthusiastic tail wagging and tiny yips of joy. Naeun stirred in Seungcheol’s arms, her eyes fluttering open just enough to register her furry best friend.

“Kkuma,” she mumbled sleepily, reaching one small hand down to pat the dog’s head. “I got muscles today. Wanna see?”

Even half-asleep, she attempted to flex her tiny bicep for the dog, who responded by giving her hand a gentle lick. Kkuma then proceeded to follow them all the way to Naeun’s bedroom, settling himself on his favorite spot on her rug as if to stand guard while she napped.

Seungcheol tucked her into her bed, smoothing the covers around her tiny form, while Kkuma curled up nearby—the perfect picture of a well-loved family.

“Sweet dreams, my strong princess,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Outside, the afternoon sun was climbing higher, and somewhere in Singapore, his wife was probably in a meeting, thinking about home. In a few hours, Naeun would wake up and want to tell him about her dreams, which would probably involve treasure islands and smoothie bars and maybe flying unicorns, because that’s how her mind worked.

But for now, the house was quiet, filled with the peaceful satisfaction that came after a day well-spent. Seungcheol settled onto the couch with his own phone, scrolling through the photos he’d taken at the gym—Naeun concentrating seriously on her wall push-ups, her face bright with laughter as she tried the rowing machine, the pure joy on her face when she took her first sip of that purple smoothie.

He sent the best ones to his wife, along with a message: Your daughter is going to rule the world someday. Fair warning.

The response came quickly: I wouldn’t expect anything less. She’s got the best teacher.

Seungcheol smiled, leaning back into the couch cushions. Tomorrow would bring new adventures, new questions, new opportunities to see the world through Naeun’s eyes. And next Saturday, they’d head back to the gym, where his daughter would undoubtedly discover new ways to turn exercise equipment into props for elaborate imaginary scenarios.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[pookiesylus]

Drunk Sylus Headcanon

This is my first hc post let me know if you like it!

————————————————————————

Drunk Sylus Notes:

- He’s surprisingly average at handling his liquor (he admitted in an interaction) but he’s very knowledgeable when it comes to subject. He has great recommendations that can suit any of your moods or tastes. He even has a vault dedicated to many unique brews and expensive wines in his basement.

- When he’s drunk, he’s much more quiet and less witty than usual. It’s similar to when he’s really warn-out or tired, but this means, he’s much more direct, heavy-handed, and occasionally clumsy.

- He can be low-key needy, pouty and clingy at times. A vulnerable side, that only makes its appearance around you. He becomes like jello, needing to be wrapped around you. He needs you to feel grounded. He’s always called you kitten, but when he’s like this, the turn tables.

Drunk Sylus Scenario:

Sylus went to a bar to negotiate and build connections with potential business clients, meanwhile, you’re relaxing at his place. He had a few drinks to make the other party feel comfortable, or perhaps to coax them into letting down their guard. The entire time he couldn’t stop thinking about how you were at his place either sitting on his couch or laying in his bed. He’d much rather be with you.

Though, he’s usually very conscious of how much he drinks, he unknowingly drank at a faster pace this time. A few hours pass, and he finally gets home. The door swings open and nearly slams into the wall due to the lack of control of his body.

Surprised, you get up and see Sylus slowly rocking as he makes his way in.

“Sylus, you’re back. How was it?”

He looks at you with a lazy expression, his eyes half-hooded. He doesn’t say anything, instead he slowly staggers toward you.

“Sylus…?” Confused, you unconsciously back up onto the wall. As soon as you do, he traps you, throwing his hands on each side. For a few moments, he stays there drinking in your image. You feel your face start to heat up, not sure what to do as he takes you in.

But before you can even process it, he suddenly crashed his lips onto yours. His kiss hungry and messy. You could taste the liquor on his lips. Usually he’s good about signaling for your consent, but a ravening instinct had awoken in him as to not let his prey slip away.

After a while, he slowly departs from your lips. Hanging his head, he moves it to rest on your shoulder. You feel the heat emanating off his body.

“Mmm” He tries to say something, but it just turns into nonsensical mumbling.

“I…miss you…” He manages to say in a deep, breathy tone.

His big hands wrap around your waist, pulling you against his body.

“Don’t leave…”

His eyebrows furrowing as he speaks against your neck.

“You should be with me all the time.”

You chuckle finding his grumpiness cute. “Sylus, you’re the one that left me, silly. I’ve been here the whole time, waiting for you.”

“Mm.” He lets out a pouty growl, shaking his head against you as if to say,” I didn’t leave you.”

His eyebrows soften as he lifts his head up, grasping your chin in his hands to meet your eyes.

“Promise me, you’ll never leave me, kitten.”

He still had a drunken gaze, but somewhere deep in his eyes, you could see his desperate longing for you. His yearning for you. His anxiety that one day you’d leave him.

You smile softly, reassuringly, wrapping your hands around his.

“I’m not going anywhere, love. I promise. I’ll always wait for you.”

You interlace your fingers with his, smiling once again. “Come with me. It’s my turn to take care of you.”

[cheftsunoda]

Beauty and Brains

(part two)

SMAU! + Real Life

in which charles leclerc's twin is a doctor and is making the big move back to monaco and also introducing the family to her new boyfriend...who they most definitely already know.

Charles Leclerc X !Doctor Sister Reader X Platonic F1 Grid

Leclerc Reader x Lando Norris

part one here:)

part three here:)

part four here:)

tag list : @klauslovemepls, @omgsuperstarg, @msliz, @samanthaofanarchy, @mayax2o07, @goldenstrawberryx, @hannahmotors10, @alireads27, @1800-love-me

—

reader point of view ;

The living room was a sea of half-filled boxes, bubble wrap, and sharpie markers. It was strange—seeing my medical textbooks, framed degrees, and half-used coffee mugs all laid out like museum artifacts waiting to be archived.

“You sure you need all of these anatomy books?” Lando’s voice called from the study, followed by the sound of something thudding against the floor.

I chuckled, wiping my hands on my old jeans as I walked in to find him crouched next to a very full box, one of the books clearly too heavy for its own good. He looked up with that guilty-but-charming smile.

“Those books saved my ass in med school. I’m not leaving them behind just because they weigh a ton.”

He huffed dramatically. “Fine, but I want it noted that I’m risking back injury for love.”

I stepped closer and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “You’re very brave, Norris.”

He smirked and rose to his feet, brushing his hands off. “So, when are we tackling the kitchen? Because I feel like that’s going to be way more terrifying.”

I let out a groan. “Probably after I emotionally recover from going through my office.”

He reached out and took my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as he studied my expression. “You okay? I mean, I know this is exciting—coming back to Monaco, being closer to family, starting fresh—but it’s a lot.”

I nodded, biting my lip. “It is. It’s a good kind of overwhelming, though. I think I just didn’t realize how much I’d built here until I started packing it all away.”

“I get that,” he said softly. “But you’re not doing it alone. I’m here… and your brother’s probably going to show up in a Ferrari and try to carry one box like it’s a workout.”

I laughed. “That sounds exactly like Charles.”

Lando grinned. “And hey, once we get to Monaco, you’ll have a whole new home to decorate, new memories to make—and I’ll still be stealing your cereal and annoying you every morning.”

I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He held me tightly, his chin resting lightly on my head. The chaos of moving felt a little less daunting in that moment.

“Thank you for helping me,” I whispered. “For all of this.”

He pulled back just enough to look down at me, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. “Always. You’re kind of stuck with me now, Dr. Leclerc.”

I smiled up at him. “Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

—

dr_jules_leclerc added post(s) to her story!

{caption 1 : <3} {caption 2 : so happy to be back home}

alexandrasaintmleux : hurry uppppp i wanna see you

dr_jules_leclerc : see you so soon angel

arthur_leclerc : charles is getting impatient and he may know about you and lando

arthur_leclerc : expect an influx of messages in the group chat

dr_jules_leclerc : took him long enough

charles_leclerc : jules elise leclerc answer your messages rn

dr_jules_leclerc : that is DR jules elise Leclerc to you pal.

username4 : phone case is very lando coded

—

lando added post(s) to his story!

{caption 1 : prettiest angel , caption 2 : back to monaco}

seen by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell & 3,378,688 others.

—

—

The Monaco sun filtered through the car window as Lando pulled into the familiar driveway of my childhood home. I had purchased a Penthouse next door. I felt a rush of emotion—nostalgia, nerves, and excitement all tangled together. Even after living away for so long, the sight of home still made my chest ache in a good way.

Lando looked over at me, sunglasses sliding down slightly on his nose. “Still good?”

I nodded, squeezing his hand on the gearshift. “Yeah. Just feels… real now.”

The front door swung open before either of us could even get out of the car. Charles stood there, arms crossed, that signature protective brother glare already locked and loaded.

“Oh no,” Lando muttered under his breath with a smirk. “Here we go.”

I stepped out with a laugh just as Charles started walking over.

“You’re late,” he announced, though his grin betrayed his excitement.

“It’s Monaco,” I shrugged, opening the back of the car. “Time doesn’t exist here.”

Charles pulled me into a hug, his chin resting briefly on top of of my head the way it always had since we were kids. “I am so glad you’re back.”

“I missed you too,” I mumbled into his shoulder before pulling away.

Then, his gaze shifted to Lando. The grin faded just a fraction.

“Lando,” Charles said, tone neutral.

“Charles,” Lando replied with a mock salute. “I brought your sister back in one piece and helped pack her entire life into about 47 boxes. So I feel like I should get a gold star or at least a drink.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t drop any of her medical equipment, did you?”

Lando put a hand to his heart. “Not even the weird bone model thing that stares at you.”

“It’s an anatomical replica of a skull,” I clarified, rolling my eyes.

“Right, creepy Steve,” Lando added, pointing toward the box where the plastic skull peered out.

Charles blinked. “You named it?”

Lando and I both said at the same time, “He named it.”

Charles just sighed dramatically and grabbed a box. “You’re both weird. Perfect for each other, unfortunately.”

I laughed as Lando nudged me with his elbow. “Look at that. He’s accepting us. That was basically a blessing.”

Charles shook his head but smiled. “Just remember—if you break her heart, Norris, I know where you live. And we drive the same track.”

Lando threw up his hands. “Noted. Fear officially installed. Now can we carry boxes inside before I collapse and die from exhaustion?"

As I walked up the front steps between the two most important men in my life, I felt it—the peace of being home, the warmth of Charles’ ridiculous threats, and the comfort of Lando’s quiet, steady presence. This was the start of something new. And this time, I am not doing it alone.

—

The apartment was still a mess of boxes, pizza crusts, and tangled extension cords, but somehow it already felt like home. I was curled up on the makeshift couch—a pile of cushions and a borrowed throw blanket—with Lando beside me, both of us exhausted.

“Okay, real talk,” Lando said, taking a sip from a water bottle. “We should just live like this forever. Minimalist chaos.”

I laughed, nudging his side. “You mean organized mess? Very artistic of you.”

“It’s nice,” he said, leaning closer. “Besides, I've got all I need and that is you.”

He kissed me slowly, his fingers brushing over my cheek like he had all the time in the world. I melted into his touch, hands resting on his hoodie, smiling mid-kiss. The door suddenly burst open without warning.

“We brought champagne— Mon Dieu!” Charles’s voice rang out first.

“Bro, seriously?” Arthur groaned right behind him.

“We said knock!”

Lando looked genuinely startled, clutching a throw pillow over his lap like it was a shield. I was already halfway on my feet, eyes wide, cheeks blazing.

“Do you two not know what knocking is?? As-tu perdu la tête??" I shouted.

Charles stood frozen, one hand raised like he was about to make a toast, champagne bottle still uncorked. Arthur looked like he’d just walked in on an exorcism.

“Is this how you treat your guests?” Charles said, dramatically turning his back. “We bring you gifts and you assault our eyeballs?”

Arthur muttered, “Je ne reverrai plus jamais.” (I will never see again)

Lando cleared his throat, still sitting awkwardly on the pillow. “Uh… hi, guys. Good to see you. Love the timing.”

Arthur gestured vaguely to the room, eyes narrowed. “Is this the vibe now? Moving in and immediately traumatizing family?”

I snatched the champagne out of Charles’s hand. “You didn’t even text! It’s our first night here!”

Charles dropped into an armchair with a dramatic sigh. “Exactly. We wanted to be part of the moment. Thought we’d celebrate you finally moving back—and I walked in on Lando trying to eat your face.”

“Romantic,” Lando mumbled, grabbing two glasses from a box and handing one to me.

Arthur dropped next to his brother. “We brought snacks too. But I guess you’re already full of each other.”

“Arthur! Ferme ta gueule” I groaned, covering my face.

Lando gave me a look, grinning like he was actually enjoying this. “I like them. They’re fun.”

Charles pointed at him. “We are not fun. We are watching you.”

“I’ve noticed,” Lando said with a smirk.

I poured four glasses, reluctantly toasting with them all as Charles sighed and Arthur wiggled his brows in my direction. I was flustered, and slightly horrified—but also happy.

“Cheers to new beginnings,” I said.

Charles added, “And boundaries.”

Arthur raised his glass. “And to Lando marrying my sister."

Charles began choking on his champagne and smacked Arthur as Lando giggled to himself. Lando leaned in, whispering with a grin, “Remind me to install three deadbolts tomorrow.”

I laughed as my two idiot brothers bickered across the room, and Lando wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

—

The salty breeze hit my face as I stepped out onto the private beach, toes sinking into warm sand. The sun was shining, the waves rolled gently in the distance, and Charles was already arguing with Arthur over who forgot the sunscreen. Lorenzo and Charlotte settled down in the sand next to Maman and Alex followed close to my side.

I adjusted my sunglasses and glanced back at Lando, who was shirtless, in board shorts, and struggling to carry two umbrellas, a cooler, and mine and Alex's beach bags like a pack mule. I tried not to smile too wide.

“You alright there, muscles?” I teased, reaching to take the bag off his shoulder.

“I’m thriving, actually,” Lando puffed, pretending to struggle more than he actually was. “This is the full boyfriend experience, right? Beach Mule?”

You kissed his cheek in thanks. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Alex giggled to herself and parked herself in the chair beside me. Charlotte came over and we began our typical girl talk. Lando was stood still trying to assemble all the beach gear. Down by the water, Maman was watching as Charles tried to construct a sandcastle with the intense focus of a man trying to outdo a toddler. Arthur, meanwhile, was already in the water yelling something about being part dolphin. Lorenzo trying to ignore both of them for his peace.

Lando dropped beside you onto a towel and stretched out, arms behind his head. “This is heaven. Sun, sea, no pit wall yelling in my ear…”

“Don’t get used to it,” Charles said, tossing a clump of wet sand at the both of us. “You’re racing next weekend.”

Lando shielded his face dramatically. “You mean I don’t get to retire at 25 and live on the beach with my beautiful doctor girlfriend?"

“Please don’t encourage him,” you groaned, lying back beside him. “He’s already too relaxed. He tried to explain to me, the doctor, that sunscreen is useless." I stated and Alex chuckled from beside.

“It is when you’re built like a bronze god,” Lando said confidently, flipping onto his stomach.

I grabbed the bottle from the bag and rolled my eyes. “Give me that before you turn into a tomato.”

From a few feet away, Arthur shouted, “Lando, if I see one more love bite on my sister’s neck, I swear I will drown you.”

“Arthur!” I yelled, mortified, gripping at my neck.

Lando just grinned. “For the record, she’s the one who bit me first.”

“Lando!” you smacked his shoulder as Maman called out from her chair with a grin on her face, "Arthur, faites attention à vous."

Charles was howling with laughter, and Arthur looked like he was planning Lando's funeral.

"Charles don't act like I don't notice you marking up my sweet innocent Alex." I shouted pointing to Alex as she hid her head. Charles laughing stopped abruptly and he went back to the sand.

I collapsed next to Lando again, hiding my face in the crook of his arm. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

He just kissed my temple and murmured, “You love me though.”

I huffed and nodded as he wrapped his arms around me tightly.

—

After the long day at the beach, Maman had prepared a dinner for all of us. I had just got out of the shower and dressed and saw Lando lying on the bed. He smiled and reached his hands out towards me pulling me down with him.

"Dinner is ready." I mumbled against his lips.

"Just two seconds with you." He murmured as he drew me into his lips and held me steady. His hand made its way to rest lightly on my neck guiding the kiss.

"Excuse me, love birds, dinner is ready!" Arthur shouted banging on the door, interrupting our moment of peace. I stood up and opened the door and glared at him. I chased him out into the kitchen and jumped on his back. Maman, stood over the pots and pans in the kitchen chuckled at us. Lando followed behind laughing and struck up a conversation with Maman. Arthur clutched my legs and started running outside towards the pool.

"Arthur, I will literally kill you. No pool." I yelled and he stopped right at the edge of the pool. Charles, Alex and Lorenzo watched closely all holding back a chuckle.

"Say that I am your favorite Brother and always will be." He threatened as he teetered me over the edge.

"Arthur, you are my favorite brother and always will be." I stated and stared down Charles and Lorenzo while shaking my head. Arthur gently set me down on the ground and squeezed me into a hug.

I walked over and sat in between Charles and Alex. Alex and I began discussing her recent duties in her job in Art.

"I have an exhibition next week, if you'd be interested in joining me." She stated with a smile and nodded.

"Absolutely." I said and took a swig of the wine.

"I can see how happy Lando makes you and it warms my heart. You so deserve that." She said and I felt myself flush.

"Same goes for you, Mon Amor. Even if it is sadly my brother that makes you happy." I said and we both chuckled as we peered over at Charles and Arthur who were arguing again.

"Everybody ready to eat?" Maman asked as she peaked her head out of the door. We all nodded and followed her to the other side of the terrace. I pulled her into a hug and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"merci maman." I said and she smiled.

"tout ce que tu fais pour ma fille. ce garçon que tu as est spécial." She replied and I smiled to myself. (anything for you my girl. that boy you got yourself is very special)

"oui, il l'est" I said and watched Lando as he finished setting the table. (yes he is)

I greeted Lando with a kiss on the cheek and he smiled.

I sat between Lando and Arthur, sandwiched in as usual, while maman fluttered around making sure everyone had enough food (even though there was more than enough), and Charles argued passionately about wine pairings with Lorenzo.

Lando leaned over and murmured in my ear, “I think your mom just tried to sneak more food onto my plate when I wasn’t looking.”

“That’s how she shows love,” I whispered, stifling a laugh. “You’re officially in.”

“She also asked me earlier what my intentions are with you,” he added under his breath.

I turned to him, wide-eyed, slightly choking on my wine, “What did you say?”

“I panicked and said I liked your brain,” he whispered.

I burst into quiet laughter, covering my face as he grinned.

Arthur leaned over suspiciously. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Lando’s fear of lasagna and commitment,” I teased, nudging Lando gently.

“Oh, I’m great at commitment,” he said casually, picking up his glass of wine. “I mean, I’m practically in love with—”

He froze. I froze. The whole table went quiet like someone hit pause.

Charles dropped his fork. “What did you just say?”

Lando blinked. “I—I said I’m practically… uh… in love with food?"

Maman raised an eyebrow.

Arthur leaned back, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Did our sweet little Lando just say the L-word?”

Lando looked absolutely panicked—but I was staring at him, eyes wide, heart pounding. Because I knew what he meant. He wasn’t talking about the food. I reached over and gently took his hand under the table.

“Hey,” I said quietly, “you don’t have to walk it back.”

He looked at me, eyes softening, and then took a breath.

“No, you’re right,” he said, this time with no hesitation. “I meant it. I love you.”

Silence again. And then—Charles groaned, dramatically dropping his head into his hands. “I knew this dinner was cursed.”

Maman beamed with joy. “Finally!”

Arthur raised his glass. “To Lando being emotionally available—who would’ve guessed?”

I laughed as the chaos resumed, my heart full and warm, my fingers still wrapped in Lando’s under the table.

I looked at him and smiled. “I love you too, by the way.”

“I knew it,” he whispered smugly. “This family loves me.” Charles scoffed loudly and then threw a napkin at his head.

"Don't get too cocky, Norris." Charles snapped and Alex smacked the back of his head.

"I love you as my own, Lando." Maman stated, giving Lando a huge smile.

—

dr_jules_leclerc just posted!

liked by lando, alexandrasaintmleux, lewishamilton & 12,424,878 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : i made the mistake of taking lando on a vacation with my family and now he thinks they are all insane (just charles).

lando : would deal with charles' threats and abuse every single day if it means i get to see that beautiful face at least once

liked by author, alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and charlotte2304

charles_leclerc : watch your back, norris.

lando : you do realize that will be your sisters last name someday too..

liked by author & alexandrasaintmleux

arthur_leclerc : charles is shouting and on the verge of tears rn

liked by author, lando, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and alexandrasaintmleux

charles_leclerc : SHE WILL KEEP THE LECLERC NAME GOD DAMNIT

liked by author

lewishamilton : Treat her well, Lando. She is a special woman.

liked by author, lando, carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc and maxverstappen1

lando : she definitely is mate, the most special

alexandrasaintmleux : so happy to have you back mon ange

liked by author

charles_leclerc : all this charles slander is BS

liked by author

franciscacgomes : NO- I LOST MY WOMAN TO A BRIT

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : I LOST YOU TO A FRENCHIE

carlossainz55 : Happy for the both of you! Be nice to each other because I have a hefty soft spot for you both and the break up would kill me.

liked by author and lando

dr_jules_leclerc : my carlando heart

liked by carlossainz55 and lando

yourbff : body so tea the british r coming or whateva

liked by author

lando : yeah they definitely are

liked by author and yourbff

arthur_leclerc : i am acting like i cannot read

dr_jules_leclerc : wdym acting - you can't read.

charles_leclerc : i am hiring a hitman im tired

—

@lando made a post!

liked by dr_jules_leclerc, pietra.pilao, mclaren & 8,987,274 others.

lando : fuck a soft launch- im dating the most intelligent and beautiful person on the planet and i love her dearly

dr_jules_leclerc : my cutie pie angel face pookie love

liked by author

charles_leclerc : im gonna be sick

lando : walk past a mirror charles?

liked by dr_jules_leclerc + arthur_leclerc

username4 : he got the girl from being himself guys

liked by author + dr_jules_leclerc

username4 : take notes

adam_norris_pure_electric : We are so excited to meet her!!

liked by author & dr_jules_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : you saw my home, norris. seems i need to see yours now;)

liked by author, flonorris1 and ciscanorris

ciscanorris : Bring this beautiful girl home to me right now, Lando. I have to start digging out your baby books!!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : oh i am definitely excited now

@maxfewtrell : so glad to see you so happy man!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

@pietra.pilao : we want to meet her!!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

@leclerc_pascale : Beautiful Couple. Love you both!

liked by author & dr_jules_leclerc

maxverstappen1 : Happy for you guys but so help me Lando if you hurt her, I will eat you alive. Leclerc is not your biggest problem.

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : charles isn't even a problem he is just a menace

liked by author, maxverstappen1 and arthur_leclerc

lando : not threatened at all by charles- slightly scared of mad max tho

liked by dr_jules_leclerc and maxverstappen1

arthur_leclerc : a bumble bee followed charles around the terrace yesterday and he screamed for about 5 minutes

liked by author, maxverstappen1 and dr_jules_leclerc

charles_leclerc : talking about someone when they are not present to defend themselves is RUDE.

liked by author, maxverstappen1 and dr_jules_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : kk scaredy cat

—

dr_jules_leclerc added to her story!

{caption : brother in laws <3 }

seen by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 7,378,367 others.

charles_leclerc : what is this? take it down immediately- you are ruining my intimidating older brother image.

dr_jules_leclerc : wdym older brother we are TWINS CHARLES. shared the womb.

charles_leclerc : maman always told me I was born 4 minutes ahead of you… I am older

dr_jules_leclerc : mmm okay whatever helps you sleep at night but the whole internet knows you’re not intimidating at all..frankly I am more intimidated by Leo

—

part two complete! let me know if you guys would like a part 3 where she meets lando's family or any other requests you have. my drafts are quite full but i am just trying to get a feel for what you guys want to read. i am always accepting requests:)

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ Even Seas Must Dream — One Piece x Reader Sleeping HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Characters included: Luffy, Zoro, Law, Ace, Sir Crocodile, Buggy, Mihawk

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Luffy

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Always clings to you no matter what, you can try to put pillows between you and he'll just cling to them instead

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He can either wake up the second you leave the bed or sleep like a stone anchored into sand depending on the night

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Don't be alarmed if you wake up to rubbery arms wrapped around you like a hose, he's just making sure you don't fall out of bed or anything

ᯓᡣ𐭩 If you get up to get a drink or something there's a good chance he's gonna follow you for his 5th midnight snack of the night and keep am arm around you the whole time

Zoro

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sleeps like a stone. Unmoving, mostly on his side or on his back, somehow manages to look tense while doing it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When he sleeps on his back he loves for you to lay with your head on his chest, or even directly on him if he's comfortable enough. When on his side he prefers to be cradling you from behind

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Probably the most open with affection when he's sleepy, he reaches a point where he's too tired to care about others and openly leans on you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The second you get up to get something he notices, he'll always offer to go with you even if he can barely stay awake while saying so

Law

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He has a terrible time falling asleep. I feel like he'd be the type to constantly be aware of the health of others while hypocritically not acknowledging his own

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You have to practically drag him to a place to sleep whenever he's been up for way too long, which he'll argue about for the longest time

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Once he falls asleep, he'll eventually curl around you and hold you tight to his chest. You are now stuck for the rest of the night, his grip while sleeping is surprisingly strong

ᯓᡣ𐭩 In the morning he's gonna complain about being hot despite being the one who refused to stop cuddling you for even a second

Ace

ᯓᡣ𐭩 His body temperature is naturally pretty high. It makes him amazing for cuddles in the winter, but in the summer you might wanna keep a little distance

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Messy sleep schedule. Naps wherever he feels like it and spends a lot of time at night doing sneaky side jobs (mostly breaking into bars) with all the extra energy

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sleeps very heavy when he does manage to rest, you can barely wake him for anything and he'll nap far into the afternoon if you don't get him up

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Both fortunately and unfortunately, his favorite way of sleeping is tucked directly into your side, giving a random kiss to your shoulder before he's fully asleep

Sir Crocodile

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Pretty average sleep schedule despite how invested in his work he always is. He insists on keeping his mind sharp, and sleep is part of that, though he isn't opposed to an all-nighter now and again

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Not that flexible when it comes to it either— when he says it's time to sleep, you gotta head to bed too. How can you expect to be there for him if you can't even keep awake for yourself?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Very light sleeper. The second something is wrong, he'll be up. Unfortunately this also means a night of restful sleep is rare to come by for him more often than not

ᯓᡣ𐭩 His quality of sleep began improving greatly when he started letting you hang onto him, something about reaching out in the middle of the night to feel you close by comforts him

Buggy

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Claims he 'doesn't need sleep' and then will only go a few hours past his typical bedtime before absolutely crashing

ᯓᡣ𐭩 A big con of sleeping beside him is he can have cartoonishly loud snores when he's really out cold, and he insists on having you close at all times

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sometimes in the search for the perfect sleep position his limbs will move around in their detached state. It was pretty startling the first few times you woke up to a separated arm or leg hanging onto you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 One of the cons is he let's his hair completely down to sleep and you're the only one that gets to mess with it however you want (though he will playfully complain no matter what)

Mihawk

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sleeps in calculated amounts to keep his mind sharp. He's pretty lenient on when you sleep, but he'll subtly hint to you when he's ready to head to sleep

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He goes to sleep on his side of the bed but always ends up cuddled up to you by the morning. He claims he doesn't know how it keeps happening

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Most times he wakes up way earlier than you do, so by the time you go to find him he's got breakfast ready and did most of the household chores

ᯓᡣ𐭩 One of the only times he doesn't look like he's constantly frowning is when he's asleep, it's a unique kind of peaceful others don't see from him, a sight reserved only for you

[itneverendshere]

here it comes a better version of me - r.c (+18)

pairing: bartender!pogue!reader x rafe warnings: smut

It had been four months since Autumn was born.

A whole season passed in a blur of spit-up, midnight feedings, and shallow dips of sleep, never long enough.

You were finally starting to feel like your body belonged to you again, not just to a baby or to recovery. You'd gotten cleared by your doctor weeks ago, but neither of you had rushed anything.

Mostly because Rafe had looked like he might break down at the very idea of hurting you.

“No,” he’d said quietly, the first time you hinted you were ready. “Not until I know it won’t hurt you.”

You loved him for it. But Autumn was asleep after the third attempt—half a bottle, twenty-seven minutes of bouncing.

The house was quiet for once.

Rafe had taken her for the final round, pacing slow laps in the hallway while you’d watched him from the doorway—shirtless, eyes heavy with sleep, one big hand cradling her tiny head, the other splayed over her back. He looked massive next to her, but so gente.

“She’s out,” he whispered finally, not moving yet.

You let him tuck her into her bassinet with the kind of care people don’t expect from someone like him—someone with his past, his name. But he was the best father. And the best husband.

Tem minutes later, you came out of the bathroom in his old shirt and a pair of underwear you didn’t remember buying. Tired, boobs still sore sometimes.

You didn’t feel sexy, you still didn’t recognize parts of yourself. Your body wasn’t what it used to be, and even though you’d been cleared by your doctor at six weeks, you were still sore and unfamiliar with your body. 

Rafe hadn’t pushed once. Which made it worse somehow, or better.

He was sitting on the bed, shirtless, rubbing the back of his neck, still wearing those stupid grey sweatpants that sat way too low on his hips. He looked up when he heard you. Your stretch marks were still dark, and your stomach hadn’t 'snapped back', and yet, he looked at you like he’d never seen you before.

You moved past him toward the dresser, but his hand caught yours, tugging you back, your knees landed on the mattress next to his thighs. 

“Rafe?”

“I can’t stop looking at you.”

You swallowed as his eyes flicked down, then back up. He was staring like you were still the woman he’d married, or something more than that: to Rafe, motherhood had added to you, not taken anything away.

“And I tried to wait. I was good.”

“You were,” you whispered, your heartbeat kicking up.

“I want you to tell me if anything hurts,” he said. “Anything, baby. Even a little.”

You nuzzled into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin. “I’m yours.”

When you pulled back, his lips crashed against yours like he hadn’t kissed you in years. His hands were greedily slipping under the shirt, shoving it up and over your head. He didn’t stop to look—didn’t need to—and pushed his mouth to your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts with this desperation.

You moved like you were remembering each other. Familiar, but rediscovered. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re even more perfect now.”

You almost cried right then, but the tears caught in your throat and turned into a moan instead. You missed him, like this.

You tried to laugh, but it came out hitched. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it.”

You kissed sloppily, whispered curses, soft “fuck, baby”s and “missed you”s, quiet moans muffled in each other’s skin. You felt him hard already under you, through the thin cotton of your underwear and his sweats.

His hands cupped you gently, thumbs grazing your nipples, and the shock of sensation made you gasp. You were sensitive—more than you remembered—but you didn’t want him to stop. 

He kissed them, “Tell me what feels good.”

And fuck, it all did.

Rafe trailed lower, kissing the swell of your stomach with this impossible gentleness that made your eyes sting. His hands smoothed down your hips, massaging.

When his fingers reached the waistband of your underwear, he didn’t pull them down—he looked up again. “Can I?”

You nodded, too emotional to speak.

He peeled them off carefully, you wanted to cover yourself out of habit, but you didn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you—this was his favorite version of you. 

He kissed the inside of your thigh. Then again. Then again, higher.

“Open for me,” He hummed, “Let me get you ready, sweetheart.”

In a matter of seconds, your ass was on the bed, and Rafe was kneeling beside you on the floor.

Your legs spread, he was already between them, lowering himself down because it was the only place he’d ever wanted to be.

Then—his mouth. The first touch of his tongue made you flinch, not from discomfort, just surprise. You’d forgotten what that felt like, what you felt like. He moaned low when he tasted you.

“Missed this. Missed you.”

You whimpered, back arching, hand flying to his hair. He licked slowly at first—lazy strokes, not to overwhelm you. When he circled your clit with the flat of his tongue, your thighs tensed around his shoulders, and he didn’t stop. 

“I’ve got you.”

You were wet fast. So fast.

He dipped one finger inside—testing, watching your face. His wedding band was warm against your skin, dragging against your thigh as he moved. It always got to you.

You moaned out loud. 

“Rafe,” you breathed, hips canting up toward his mouth. “Shit, I—”

“Wanna feel you open up for me.”

He added a second finger, scissoring gently until he felt your body adjust. He kissed the crease of your thigh and went right back to your clit, tongue working in circles, filthy wet sounds filling the room.

You were so close. It had been so long, and Rafe had always known how to ruin you with his mouth.

“Come for me,” he said against you. “Come on, baby. Let go.”

It crept up out of the blue and then crashed, all at once—your legs shaking, mouth falling open, breath catching as you came around his fingers. He didn’t stop until you twitched from overstimulation, and even then, he only pulled back to kiss your hipbones again, up your stomach, up your chest.

You were soaked. Ready. Your body welcomed him like it had been waiting.

He let you pull him without a fight, watching you crawl over him, his arms spread, needing to feel you with his whole body. You sat up on top of him, legs straddling his hips, completely bare except for your underwear. 

Married. Yours. Still completely obsessed with you.  

“Look at you.”

You tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips to help, now bare too, thick and hard and so ready it made your head spin.

You hovered over him, suddenly breathless. Your hand curled around the base of him, guiding him to your entrance. And even though he’d gotten you so ready—fingers, tongue, all of it—you still took your time, easing down, feeling the stretch in the best way. Your body took him like it remembered him, it had been waiting.

Rafe groaned, head dropping back against the pillow.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”

It wasn’t perfect. You both moved slower than usual; it had been months, after all.

“Saw you watching me in the mirror the other night,” you said, nails dragging down his stomach. “After I showered.”

His breath hitched. “I was gonna jerk off.”

“I know,” you purred, your hips grinding into his, and you felt him pulse deep inside you. 

Your hips moved in shallow rolls at first, easing. He kept his hands on your waist, not pushing, letting you lead until you moaned and leaned forward, pressing your chest to his, kissing him.

The way he looked under you—neck strained, mouth open, chest rising and falling hard—you had all the power.

“Harder,” you whispered, and he did—thrusting up into you.

You cried out, not in pain, only because it was overwhelming. It was so much. His hands on your ass. His mouth on your neck. His breath in your ear: “You’re mine. You’re fucking mine.”

Your thighs shook; you were close. Already. It hadn’t taken much.

You couldn’t stop looking at his hands—those big, veiny hands—and his wedding band catching the warm lamplight as he slid his palms up your waist. That little reminder that he was yours, that he loved you, had chosen you again and again. 

Rafe opened his eyes at that, dazed and wrecked and smiling as you braced your hands on his chest again and rode him harder, feeling your orgasm start to build all over again. He was babbling now—words half-formed, mouth hardly keeping up with the way you were moving.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groaned. “You—fuck—you gave me our baby, and you’re still letting me have you like this. I don’t deserve you.”

He kissed you so deep, tongue sliding against yours as he fucked up into you, matching your pace now.

You whined, your nails clawing down his chest, and he felt that—his head snapped back with a guttural sound, fighting the urge to flip you, to pound up into you with everything he had—but this was better.

You had him pinned.

“Fucking love when you're on top,” he panted. “—I’d give you anything. Anything you want. Look at you. Ridin’ my cock like you own it.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “I do.”

That did it. His hands flew to your hips again, forcing you down while he thrust up, and you cried out. 

Rafe’s eyes slammed shut, “Don’t—shit, don’t say that. I’ll blow right now.”

Your back arched, thighs trembling, a broken sob falling from your mouth as you clenched around him over and over, pulsing tight, soaking him just like he asked.

You whimpered, legs trembling, body twitching with every roll of your hips. You slammed down onto him, and he snapped, groaning loud enough you were half-scared you'd wake the baby—but neither of you stopped.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he growled, bucking into, completely lost, watching the way your tits bounced with every stroke. “Could die like this. Between your legs, inside you—fuck, what a way to go.”

You’d probably bruise, and you didn’t care. You wanted it, to feel it days later, every time you sat down, every time you walked. Proof.

“Let me see you,” he rasped. “Touch yourself for me, baby.”

You slid a hand down between your bodies, brushing over your clit, slick and sensitive. His eyes dropped, transfixed, the muscles in his abdomen pulling tight.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” he groaned, voice strained, trembling with it.

You smiled through the moan. “Good. I want it.”

Your fingers kept circling your clit as Rafe watched. His fingers were digging into your flesh, but he still let you lead, soaking and grinding, taking what you needed.

The stretch had faded into that addictive fullness, every grind thick with pressure, each slide over your clit more intense than the last.

You knew how to work him just right.

“That’s it,” he moaned. “Fuck, just like that. Gonna come for me again?”

You nodded, breath hitching, fingers circling faster. “With you. Wanna come with you.”

Rafe sat up suddenly, the change bringing your bodies skin to skin, burning hot. His forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling.

“Then ride me harder,” he said, voice breaking, sweat beading along his temple. “Take what you need. You always know how.”

You gave it to him, grinding and bouncing. Rafe met every move with one of his own, your bodies slapping together in rhythm.

He sat up suddenly, one arm wrapping around your lower back, locking you to his chest. The new angle made you both cry out. You couldn’t breathe, nor did you want to. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes rolling back for a second. “You’re not playing fair.”

Your teeth scraped his bottom lip. “Wasn’t trying to.”

Rafe’s hands slid up your sides, across your ribs, brushing under your breasts. You arched for him, offering yourself, and he took advantage, wrapping his lips around your nipple. His tongue circled lazy, wet, sucking hard enough to make your head fall back.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, grinding harder now. “That’s—don’t stop.” You were babbling too, the pleasure cresting hard.

His cock twitched inside you constantly, and you knew he was dying to flip you over and fuck the orgasm out of you—but he didn’t.

Instead he grabbed your wrist, not to stop you, but to guide your hand and press your fingers harder.

“I’ve got you,” he growled against your neck. “Let me feel you, baby.”

You did.

Your hips stuttered as your whole body shut down with it, clenching around him so desperately that he didn’t stand a chance. He shouted your name, pulled you flush against him, and came with a force that had him shaking under you, his cock buried to the deep end, pulsing hot inside.

There was so much you felt it gush out around him, spilling over your thighs, making a mess of everything. His cock twitched inside you twice, still throbbing, pumping more of it in deep as you whimpered against his shoulder.

His mouth pressed against your shoulder, then to the curve of your neck. His breathing was uneven against your skin.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice hoarse.

You nodded into his hair. “More than okay.”

Your fingers kept tracing the sweat-damp line of his spine.

“I missed you.”

You kissed the shell of his ear. “You’ve got me. Still yours.”

You held each other there, chests heaving, skin sticky, hearts thudding. Neither of you moved, except for the tiny things. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, dragging down to your jaw, and he smiled quietly.

“God, I love you.” 

You cupped his face, brushing under his eyes. “I love you too.”

From the hallway, a tiny cry.

You both groaned.

Rafe let his head fall back. “Shit.”

You laughed, breathless, and climbed off him, a new rush of cum following, sliding down your inner thighs.

“I’ll go,” He pressed a peck to your bare shoulder. “But when I come back…”

You smirked. “Better bring water.”

He shot you a look, tousled hair wild, glowing with afterglow.

“Water and snacks.”

Rafe sat up, grabbing the nearest pair of boxers from the floor, dragging them on over his still-hard cock, the fabric doing little to hide what you’d just done to him.

He leaned down to kiss your knee again before heading out, mumbling, “Five minutes. Don’t move.”

He paused at the doorway, running a hand through his hair, and you swore your womb fluttered. You watched him go, soft lighting catching the curve of his shoulders, the waistband of his boxers slung low on his hips.

Yeah—you’d give him as many babies as he wanted.

You let your head fall back on the pillow, smiling because you were a woman freshly ruined and already plotting to get ruined again.

[socialobligation]

needle & nerve | e. kirishima

he came in for a piercing. what he didn’t expect was the artist behind the gloves—sharp-eyed, quick-witted, and maybe his new favorite reason to come back. (987 words)

your shop sat just off the main street—half tattoo studio, half piercing parlor, with walls that held a little bit of grit and a whole lot of story. incense burned low in the corner, masking the sharp scent of disinfectant, and the constant hum of fluorescent lights buzzed beneath the soft thud of bass-heavy music filtering in from the back room. framed flash sheets covered the walls, inked with dragons, snakes, roses, and teeth. some were faded from sun, some fresh, some yours. all of them meant something to someone.

you leaned over the front desk, chin in your palm, scrolling idly through a list of upcoming appointments when the door chimed. you didn't look up right away—it wasn't rare to get walk-ins—but something about the shift in the room made your hand pause over the mouse.

he stepped inside like he wasn’t sure how loud to be. tall, square-shouldered, all muscle and nervous momentum. red hair pulled back in a headband that didn’t quite tame it, and eyes—bright, dark-lashed, darting around the space like they were trying to memorize it before it could change.

"uh—hi," he said. his voice cracked slightly on the first syllable, too loud for the low hum of the shop. "i’ve got an appointment?"

you looked up and found a boy who seemed more like a mountain in training. his cheeks flushed deeper when your gaze caught him.

"eyebrow at three?"

"yeah." he nodded, breath like it had been held since the sidewalk. "that’s me."

"cool. i’m your piercer today," you said, stepping out from behind the desk and gesturing toward the back. "i’m y/n."

he blinked, then smiled like he hadn’t expected introductions to be part of this. "eijiro. kirishima eijiro."

you gave him a nod and a smirk. "nice to meet you, eijiro. let’s make you bleed a little."

he trailed behind as you led him through the studio, past tattoo chairs draped in black leather and chrome trays lined with freshly sterilized tools. his eyes lingered on the art pinned above each station, pausing longer at a piece you'd done last week—three snakes coiled through the jaw of a skull.

"first piercing?" you asked, tugging on gloves.

"yeah." he scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. "figured it was time. always thought about it but... i dunno. guess i needed a push."

"it’s a good pick," you said, voice easy, hands already arranging your tray. "subtle. sharp. very you."

he blinked, then smiled. "you don’t even know me."

"don’t need to. i read people."

he laughed, louder this time. "and what do i read like?"

"someone who talks a big game and still gets nervous walking into places like this."

he opened his mouth, then closed it with a grin. "fair enough."

you motioned to the chair. "you’ll feel a quick pinch and then a little pressure. it’s not that bad. just don’t flinch."

"i won’t. promise." he slid into the chair like it was a test. his hands settled in his lap, though you could see the way he kept flexing his fingers.

you moved around him with steady precision. sterilized clamp. single-use needle in its packaging. mirror nearby. you sprayed his brow with antiseptic and caught his flinch out of the corner of your eye—not from pain, but from cold.

he glanced at you. "you do tattoos too?"

"yep. mostly blackwork. fine line, sometimes flash. i draw all my own sheets."

"that snake piece on the way in—that was yours?"

you nodded. "you've got a good eye."

he flushed again, red creeping across his ears now. "guess i’m just a fan of good linework."

you leaned in close, brushing his hair from his temple. his skin was warm under your gloves. close like this, he smelled like clean laundry and just a little sweat, like maybe he’d psyched himself up before walking through the door.

"keep your head still. i’m gonna mark you."

you felt his breath hitch as you pressed the pen lightly to his skin. you could feel the tension in his shoulders—not fear, exactly. more like anticipation wound tight beneath muscle.

"you alright?"

he nodded. "just thinking."

"about what?"

"if this actually makes me cooler or if i’ll just look like i lost a bet."

you smiled. "only one way to find out."

you lined the clamp up gently. "deep breath in."

he inhaled, and you pierced through his skin.

a second passed. then two.

you pulled the needle through, swapped it for the jewelry, and clipped the hoop into place. he didn’t move, not even when you wiped away the smallest dot of blood.

"that’s it?" he blinked at you, like he expected to be bleeding out.

"that’s it."

he touched the edge of the new ring, careful, like it might still sting.

"damn. kinda expected to cry or something."

"give it five hours. you might regret it."

he laughed and stood, slowly, adjusting to the sudden lightness in his posture.

you peeled your gloves off with a soft snap, tossed them in the bin, and reached for the aftercare sheet. when you turned back around, he was holding something in his hand.

a post-it. yellow. handwriting a little slanted, a little rushed.

he stuck it to the counter next to the tip jar. his number written in black ink on the paper.

"in case i want the other side done," he said casually. "or, you know, maybe a snake tattoo. or maybe coffee."

you tilted your head, one eyebrow raised. "you just hand out your number to everyone you meet under bright lights and sharp metal?"

he grinned, sheepish and bold all at once. "only when they’re the prettiest person i’ve ever met."

he waved over his shoulder, and the bell above the door chimed as he left, hair catching the light like a flame, and you were still staring at the post-it note—still smiling—when the door eased shut behind him.

[mr-bas00nist]

Could I ask for some male reader x afab!Choso pls? I think it'd be fun if reader was a lil mean/rough with Choso with a side of breeding kink please 👀

Like A Good Boy

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧-Sub! Afab! Kamo Choso x Dom! Male! Reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧-Cw: Breeding kink, fingering, hairpulling, blowjobs, creampie, some cervix fucking (?), overstimulation, degradation + praise, daddy kink

Choso was a very… submissive partner. Having never been in a relationship and only being known as a curse his whole life. He wasn’t used to being loved and taken care of, being cherished and praised. Until you came along of course.

His sweet boyfriend who’d give him the cutest gifts, take care of him in the sweetest ways, whisper sweet nothings in his ear. All enough to get him flustered and heart racing. He loved your kind nature and comforting aura (♾️ aura points for banging Choso), but he was half a curse. He could be roughed up and take it.

You’d always been gentle with him in the bedroom. Attending to his every little want and need, making sure he was perfectly stretched and creaming on your fingers before fucking him. Even when he was crying on your cock you were kissing his tears away. You were the perfect boyfriend, Choso was sure of it.

Though he wanted more. He wanted to see you snap at him, how rough and nasty you could get with him. If you even had it in you. He knew he could take it and god he wanted to take it.

Wanted you to spit in his mouth, choke him, spank him, bruise him and make him cry. Threaten to leave him while at the same time impaling him on you so he only fit your dick. He wanted people to see his love marks, see how he was your bitch. No one else’s.

Which is why he decided to finally bring it up after so long.

You and Choso were currently relaxing on the couch as you redid his ponytails for him. Gently carding your fingers through his slick black hair to work out any possible knots. He had his head leaned back on your thighs with his eyes close. He couldn’t help but peer at you strong arms as he rubbed his thighs together.

“Hey honey…?” Choso spoke up as he opened his eyes to look up with you. You smiled tilting your head at him. “What’s up?” You ask curiously as you finished his ponytail, your hand retreating to rest idly on his stomach. He gently moved his hand atop yours as he spoke.

“Can you… can we try something different?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “With your hair?” You asked with equal curiosity which made him laugh. “No… in bed…” he answered. You hummed with a smirk. “Likeeeee??? His cheeks dusted with blush. “I want you to be rough with me… like… really rough… I wanna bleed…”

You were surprised at his request before a dark glint showed in your eyes. You slid down to the hem of his pajama pants as he felt you pull then snap them back. He let out a noise of slight surprise before hearing your laugh. You titled your head with a lustful look in your eyes, “I can do that..”

୨⎯Timeskip⎯୧

“Shit, yeahhhhhh- there he fucking is…” You currently had Choso’s head hanging off the edge of the bed as you fucked his face. His head was spinning from your crude words and the blood going to it. You gripped his neck as you tightened your grip while thrusting violently.

“Yeah, you take dick like a whore… thought you said you were a virgin when we met? Should’ve known with a throat like this you weren’t.” You smirked as you heard him gag around you. He whined as he slid a hand down to his pussy as he gave tight circles to his swollen clit.

“Aht,” you gave a particularly hard and deep thrust as a warning making him gurgle in response. “Hands off what’s mine.” You furrowed your eyebrows as he withdrew his manicured hand. “Cunt that desperate? Can’t even blow me right with getting some relief? Nasty bitch..”

He felt you withdraw as you slapped his face with your heavy cock. He let out a hoarse whine as he drooled. Sweat, tears and spit all over his face as he panted. You wasted no time grabbing his ponytails as you pulled his ankles back up to the bed.

“Get on the pillows and hold your legs up.” You demanded. He crawled up as you gave a slap to his ass making him whine. He did as you said, his messy cunt on full show for you. You pulled his thick lips apart as you observed his rosy folds.

You gave a slap to his pussy making him quiver as you observed the strings of sticky slick left on your fingers. You hummed before slipping two fingers into your mouth then moving them back down to his mound. You traced along his clit before slipping the two into his hole. You began pumping your fingers in and out which made him cry out.

You gripped his chin with you hand as you pulled it down a bit. His mouth was left open as you leaned over spitting in it. “Swallow.” You demanded as you roughly finger-fucked him. He quickly obeyed as he stuck his tongue out for proof.

You hummed as you focused back on his greedy pussy. “Look at it, sucking my fingers right back in.” You murmured as the sounds of schlick, schlick, schlick! filled the room. You peered down almost mesmerized as you watched as his pussy creamed all over your fingers, pulling back to observe the frothy residue.

You finally released your aching cock from your pants as you gave a few strokes with your sticky hand. You lined yourself up before pumping into him with a swift movement. He whimpered at the stretch as he felt you prod at his cervix. “Cmon daddy- ah, fill me up! Fill me up with your babies~!” He pleaded.

You rolled your eyes as you gripped one of his legs and put your hand around his throat, squeezing. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do, especially when you have your legs above your head like that.” You retorted at him as his eyes rolled back at the lack of air flow. You licked your lips as your eyes closed with focus.

You peered open for a moment with a smirk seeing his already fucked out expression. “Yeah, my dumb baby…. Going stupid on this dick…” you looked down to where you two connected, a ring of white around your base. “Don’t gotta do nothing, just gotta keep creaming on daddy’s cock like the slut you are…” You bit your lip to keep your own moans down so you could hear his hoarse cries.

He gently put his hands around your wrist as he looked you in the eyes with his tear filled bloodshot ones. “P-please-“ you gripped the backs of his knees as you drove yourself deeper, faster. Filling his sloppy pussy with every inch of your cock. His plushy walls had no idea what to do with how deep you were invading him.

You felt him tightening but then at some moments he went slack. You heard him let out a particularly loud moan as you hit his g-spot head on. “Breed me- breed me daddy- breed me-“ he chanted like a mantra as you watched him put his hand on his aching clit. Fast tight circles on the swollen bud as he felt his impending orgasm.

“Gonna fill you up like the whore you are yeah? My cum dump huh..?” You spoke breathlessly as he rapidly nodded, your hand loosened for a moment. You let out a grunt as you pushed yourself deeper, hitting his cervix hard enough he swore he felt it open for you. His eyes rolled back as he cried out a, “CUMMING!!!” you felt his warm channel clamp down on you like a vice.

You let out a deep groan as you watched his fluid squirt onto your stomach and onto him. You hummed softly as you felt your orgasm grace you like a comforting morning sun. “Oh god- yes, so much…” Choso smiled dumbly to himself as he felt your thick load seep into his womb. You hummed with an amused smirk as you gave him a small kiss.

He reciprocated with a content look on his face as he moaned softly into the kiss. “How was that for rough?” You asked curiously as you viewed his body to make sure he was okay. Well, as okay as he could be after that. “Perfect, it was perfect.” He smiled as you gave rubbed his cheek with your thumb.

“Lets get you cleaned up huh?”

A/n: First Chode Though fic guys 😝!!! Lmao, he was fun to write for. I know he’s more timid then most of the other JJk characters but I didn’t wanna make THAT shy. Hopefully I wrote him well for everyone. Anyways, see you in the next. 😚✌🏽

[sunalee]

at the supermarket

summary: usual grocery day with your husband.

with: 141 task force.

a/n: getting more and more interest in doing a domestic series with this men. I cannot help, they scream husband material.

⊛ john price

Every errand with john resolves feels like a teamwork task, it's natural for him to be supportive and most of the times, lead; in this case though, you're the captain. He was never very familiar with shopping for the amount he's away serving the country, so to optimize time — groceries isn't something very funny to spend time on — he gladly follows your lead.

He's a high skilled observant, which he uses to find the hidden sales and promotions, and the faster line to checkout (his wallet appreciates it).

John is more subtle with touching outdoors, so you'll feel his hand gently brush your side or hold your waist as you move around the store, his nose inhaling your shampoo scent when he's behind you on the line, among other small gestures. But the eye contact is a must, especially since John enjoys making you flustered as he admires you.

what he usually says: "yes, ma'am", "found it.", "don't get shy on me now, sweet thing, can't I look at you anymore?" "you open the car, I take the bags, got it?"

⊛ kyle "gaz" garrick

It's really rare for Kyle to not join you with grocery shopping whenever he's home, even when he's feeling tired to help: he wants to be there for you, always. And he's such a good company to do that, your eye candy of a husband made his efforts to now know the best brands and products to buy. You trust him to do all by himself at this point, but you both think that it's nice to turn such a common task into a couple activity.

He's the supermarket charmer. It's really alarming the amount of times some old lady asked for his help, only to praise him to you. "He's a keeper darlin, you're a lucky girl." They say to you, which you answer with a growing smile as you turn to look at your kind man. Sometimes he even gets small gifts from them!

Kyle has a need to keep contact with you as much as he can. He takes your hand from time to time to leave a small kiss on the back of it or on your fingers; he's also very keen to caressing your hair and putting some strands behind your ear while you're talking with him. And let's not even mention the cheeky grins and winks he throws in your direction whenever you call him out.

what he usually says: "flower, how about some wine?" "you're so pretty, you know that?" "haha, sorry ma'am, but I'm happily married." "c'mon, I was just helping, don't look at me like that!"

⊛ john "soap" mactavish

johnny doesn't like grocery shopping that much, but even if you ask for his help, he's driving and helping you, end of discussion. He's like your dotting knight, assisting your needs, lifting heavy stuff and making sure you're pleased with everything you need. He can even read aloud your shopping list for the whole market, anything but his wife getting angry.

It's almost contradictory, but sometimes you caught Johnny distracted with groceries, especially when you guys approach the snacks and beers section. It's funny to watch him, out of nowhere, asking your help to choose between one or other (none of them really necessary to buy). He's also a samples hunter, proving everything that has samples just because it's food or booze, and it's free.

Soap walks with one arm wrapped around your waist while the other is driving the chart around. He's not as clingy as he is at home, only giving you some small kisses on your temple, or letting you hold his arm: but the arm wrapped around your waist is a must. He wants to let everybody know that you're his girl.

what he usually says: "oooh, samples over there!" "na ah ma'am, it's heavy." "wait, let me help sweetheart." "baby, can we buy this?"

⊛ simon "ghost" riley

Simon's the least keen to grocery shopping. First, because he doesn't like going out in public; second, because it's so boring and stressful, two combinations that explains his frustrations. But you're the one who asked his help, and anything his wife asks, goes.

Even though he's not a expert in healthy food, Simon doesn't like to spend his money with junkie food and sweets to the brim: he's cautious with what you eat, so he always add more healthy options. He also doesn't like the way people stare at him because of his balaclava, but who can blame them? He just hope they don't think he's a criminal.

He's not good with PDA, but this guy needs to have you near him every second of the time, or he'll grow paranoid with worry. To prevent that, he has a habit of guiding your body with one of his hands at the middle of your back. He also looks at you to check in, but mostly checks the area, not wanting to get caught by surprise in case something happens.

what he usually says: "tsc.. this place is a mess." "woman just stay beside me" "why do you need so many chocolate bars?" "you're gonna be the death of me, woman."

© sunalee 2024 — all rights reserved.

[elodieunderglass]

🐝 - character with their daemon (or animal familiar.)

Ken! (he's still not left my house)

(considered asking for Fancy Outfit but I dunno that he does those. though I am now entertaining myself considering all the stupid pun possibilities offered by Bonnie Prince Charlie jackets. or would he perhaps wear a haori with his kilt... maybe *I* need to draw this. I am very slightly more practiced at drawing clothes than everything else)

(OC Character Drawing ask meme 🐝 - character with their daemon / Dr Kenji James MacKenzie, who lives on a narrowboat and therefore is probably using your shower)

oh NO! sorry he's still in your house.

So, facts about Ken: field geologist, possibly with the British Geological Survey; lives on a narrowboat on the Kennet and Avon; vegan, but can't really cook, so is mostly foraging mildly upon cold tins of baked beans; Japanese and Scottish heritage, raised somewhere in the Highlands-and-Islands; likes diesel engines, conservation-themed t-shirts, and ducks; reliable navigator who cannot handle London, and is alarmed when mountaineering in Japan because there are just too many trees; always has Kendal Mint Cake and is almost always in a kilt; cycles everywhere, even though he suffers in the heat; so profoundly Bristol-coded that you could probably stand in Stokes Croft and manifest him out of thin air, coming out of Cafe Kino. Hobbies include serious hiking - the kind that's kind of unpleasant, and that's sort of the point; music (sea shanty choir); living on a boat is a lifestyle/hobby in itself; and he loves collecting badges for Accomplishments. He bags munros on purpose (and may have bagged them all by now) and wants to do the Camino de Santiago and Kumano Kodō. A great and loving friend, perfect outdoor-activity companion, and probably does sci-comm for kids in his spare time.

with all that in mind, I don't know why the HELL his daemon is a binturong. A massive, lazy, tree-dwelling, slow-moving, inconveniently heavy omnivore, with a prehensile tail, nocturnal and solitary, that dislikes coming down from trees. Binturongs smell of popcorn, and when they walk - which is rarely - they waddle slowly and majestically, like dignified bears. They live in the rainforests of southeast Asia.

WHY DOES KEN HAVE A BINTURONG?? it makes no sense. Much smarter, more portable, more SENSIBLE daemons would be things like a squirrel or a cat (maybe a scottish wildcat?!) or a duck, that would fit in a narrowboat comfortably, and could be popped in a pack and hauled around the British Isles. Or a Shetland pony or a red stag, or something powerful and rugged that could hike for itself. But no. Nope, we ran all the tests, and Ken's soul just keeps coming back as Grumpy Bear-Cat With a Monkey Tail.

What the hell.

Here they are cleaned up for someone else's wedding.

Thank you so much for this. I strongly recommend trying to draw him for yourself because

a) I was smiling the whole time I drew this, literally continuously grinning with glee, and now my cheeks hurt

b) fusing those fashions would be bonkers good fun.

[astralis-is-typing]

Better with you beside me

⚝fic type: slice of life

⚝genre/contains: seungmin x gn!reader, college!au, fluff, comfort, established relationship, domestic af lol

⚝word count: 1.9k

⚝inspo: "Only" by LeeHi, and a prompt from this post by @novelbear

“Can we get stop by the café on our way back?” You groaned, sneakers dragging across the white tiles of the packed stationery store. Your boyfriend leaned closer, trying to catch your words over the din. You tilted your face towards him, repeating your words closer to his ear.

“There’s food back at your dorm,” Seungmin replied matter-of-factly, tutting at your forgetfulness and playfully flicking your forehead. “We made sandwiches before we left, remember?”

“That’s a whole train ride away,” you sighed dramatically, throwing your head back and rubbing your grumbling stomach for good measure.

“Okay, okay,” Seungmin conceded with faux exasperation, but the amused glint in his eyes was a dead giveaway. “We’ll grab brownies or something once we’re out of here.” He took your hand in his and gave a gentle tug, urging you through the aisle at a faster pace. A toppling stack of binder files narrowly missed his head, but he dodged out of the way just in time. “For now, can we get a move on?”

You grumbled a noncommittal reply, interlocking your cold fingers with his warm ones as you quickly sidestepped the sea of orange and purple files now scattered across the floor. Seungmin reached into the back pocket of his jeans and unfurled the battered shopping list that held your list of supplies. Almost every item jotted down in fading blue ink had been crossed off; it was a testament to the errand nearly complete.

You gripped the handles of the heavy plastic shopping basket tighter, the heap of notebooks, pens, and other supplies making your arm ache in protest as you weaved through the throng of bodies. Like everyone else in here, you’d waited till the very last minute to get everything you needed before the semester started next week.

“A coffee would do me wonders,” you murmured, eyes wearily scanning the packed checkout lines.

“I think everyone in here could say the same,” Seungmin chuckled, a cheeky smile playing on his lips as he took in your worn-out state.

The store was packed with baggy-eyed college students, who no doubt had spent these final days before the start of the semester catching up on work they should’ve completed over the winter break.

The two of you finally made it to the front of the long queue, Seungmin swatting your hand away as you tried giving your card to the cashier. She smiled softly as your boyfriend insisted on paying on your behalf.

“You forget that you’re also a broke college student,” you say, glaring at Seungmin as he thanked the cashier with a small smile and ushered you out of the store.

“Semi-broke,” he quipped, cooing at the expression on your face and poking your side. “You forget that ‘After School Club’ actually makes bank. Felix and Jeongin would’ve bailed out a long time ago if it didn’t.”

“Still,” you sighed, glare evaporating at the mention of Seungmin’s hilarious podcast. “I’d saved up for this stuff, you didn’t have to pay for me.”

The banter between the two of you carried on, bumping into each other every so often as you walked on. Making good use of Seungmin’s distraction, you managed to steer him all the way into your favourite café. Knowing him though, you suspected he could tell where you were leading him and simply let you have your way.

“Just one cappuccino,” you negotiated, left foot inching towards the café’s entrance. Seungmin noticed this and chuckled fondly, nudging it back into position with his own foot.

“You’re really something else.” He sighed, but made no move to argue.

“Is that a yes?” You asked in glee, the weight of your purchases forgotten as you happily swung your shopping bag at your side.

“No coffee though— you know what it does to you,” Seungmin said, shaking his head at your antics. “Get a hot cocoa or some tea. Same for me. You go ahead, I forgot I need to get something.”

“Okay, deal!” Smug from your supposed victory, you didn’t notice the way Seungmin’s lips quirked upwards as you gave him a quick peck on the cheek and walked into the café with a slight spring in your step.

—

It didn’t take long for you to find a cozy little corner to people watch after you placed your to-go order. The familiar scent of freshly baked pastries was a comforting contrast to the disorienting array of perfumes and colognes that bombarded your senses in the stationery store. You took a deep breath, sinking into the plush chair and allowing yourself to momentarily zone out. Contentment came easily these days; simply taking in the low music playing through the café’s speakers or the mellow chatter of groups sitting around tables in twos and threes did you a world of good. To simply exist for a few moments, not particularly focusing on anything.

Seungmin came back just after the waiter at the counter had called out your order. You rested your arms on the counter and watched him walk in as the waitress double-checked your receipt. His dark brown bangs fell slightly over his eyes, and he absentmindedly feathered them back into place as he casually strolled over to you at the counter.

“Ready to head back?” He asked, adjusting the tote bag on his shoulder.

“All set!” you confirmed with a nod, hands each balancing your shopping bag and your order.

“We’re not going to get very far like this,” Seungmin teased with a laugh, taking the small box of brownies from you and plopping it into his tote bag before relieving you of your loaded shopping bag.

“Aren’t you the man?” you teased back. Seungmin pulled a silly face at you in response, and you nearly dropped the two cups of hot cocoa you were holding from laughing.

—

“We’re literally four hundred meters from the train station,” Seungmin huffed incredulous. He bit back a laugh at how you were hunched over, empty cups in hand.

Shaking his head, Seungmin took the cups from you and tossed them into a nearby recycle bin before returning to simply stand by your side, arms crossed as he waited for you to recover.

The two of you must’ve been quite the sight— you, bent forward and groaning dramatically, while Seungmin stood stoically beside you, his expression deadpan.

“Piggyback ride,” you demanded, straightening back up with an exaggerated sigh.

“You’ve got to be insane!” Seungmin exclaimed. “The train station is right there.”

“No more,” you protested, shaking your head. “You said that ten minutes ago. Now, piggyback ride!” You clapped your hands once, stepping behind your wide-eyed boyfriend and patting his broad shoulders. “My feet are killing me,” you whined.

“Lazy,” Seungmin quipped, before sighing in defeat and letting you jump onto his back like a human backpack.

Grinning brightly at your small triumph, you ruffled his hair in thanks as your aching feet left the ground. Kim Seungmin was a tough man to beat, definitely seeing right through your exaggerated exhaustion. But he let you win anyway. Just because it was you.

—

The train rattled on, and you periodically turned to the window, letting the fading warmth of the sunset kiss your face one last time. Outside, the scenery blurred past in streaks of colour and light as you and Seungmin sat side by side, playing tic-tac-toe on a forgotten scrap of paper you had found on your seat. After yet another draw, Seungmin gave up, stuffing his pen into the front pocket of his jeans.

“This is ridiculous,” he huffed, playfully reprimanding you. “You use the same infuriating tactics every single time.”

“Hey! It’s the only way to play the game,” you argued in your defense, laughing at his despair.

“You always try trap me by placing your ‘X’ at the same corner!”

“What do you want me to do? Start at the middle?” Your face twisted in mock horror. Such a rookie mistake was far beneath your prowess.

Seungmin tutted at you, giving up before the argument could even begin. “You’re so stubborn,” he grumbled— then immediately blamed himself for it, claiming you’d picked up the trait from hanging out with him. With a sigh, he leaned in, wiggling his fingers in front of your eyes as if he wanted to poke them.

You barely reacted, of course.

It was one of his many odd habits, something you’d grown accustomed to long ago. You still remembered his first ever visit to your dorm, when he’d attacked your plushies, pressing his fingertips into their button eyes and laughing maniacally as if it were the funniest activity known to man.

So, it didn’t come as a surprise now when, instead of flinching, you instinctively shut your eyes and let the soft pads of his fingertips rest gently against your eyelids. You had long since stopped caring how this unorthodox display of affection might look to passersby.

It was moments like these when you felt most at peace.

The stillness of his quiet steady love made time stop for just a second. And that was enough to restore structure to your chaos.

Seungmin was your small but certain happiness, the subtleties of his love a constant reassurance that carried you through the longest of days.

“By the way, I got you something,” he said quietly. A rare, shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he fretted with your coat, reaching beneath the collar to tug out the bunched-up hood of your zip-up hoodie. You hadn’t even noticed that small discomfort, but he had.

Briefly acknowledging his help with a smile, you tilted you head, intrigued.

Seungmin reached into the depths of his tote bag beside him and turned back to you with red ears. “Here.” He held out a box to you. “I... got you headphones. So you can, you know, zone out in peace.”

Your breath caught.

There was silence for a beat, then another, and in this void you began to notice every other sound around you— the rhythmic click-clack of the wheels on the tracks, the soft hum of the engine beneath your seats. The rustle of a newspaper as someone nearby turned a page, the snippets of distant conversations that had previously blended into white noise.

You tried to sync your breathing with the train’s rhythm, grounding yourself as you processed what Seungmin had just said.

How well he knew you.

Seungmin, ever perceptive, understood your quiet. “I noticed how you get overwhelmed after… interacting so much,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “So, here’s a way to slow down. I hope…”

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in his words. “It’s perfect.���

Beyond that, words failed you. All you could manage was pull him into a hug.

Seungmin welcomed it with a small chuckle, the sound muffled as his cheek was squished against the fabric of your coat. Your scent was familiar, an unspoken invitation that eased the last of his lingering anxieties about whether you’d like his gift.

He looked up at you from this angle, admiring the gentle curve of your smile. “I hope they make your semester easier,” he murmured earnestly. Then, adding with a mischievous grin. “And you needed to let those ancient earphones go.”

You rolled your eyes, classic Seungmin. You swatted his hair lightly as you released him from your hold. “But you already do.” Your voice softened. “Make my days easier, I mean.”

Seungmin smirked at that. “Don’t you ever worry,” he said. “You’re stuck with me for the long run. We’ll be alright.”

© astralis-is-typing 2025. Plagiarism is strictly prohibited. This is my intellectual property. Do NOT repost or translate my work on tumblr, wattpad, or any other platform.

⚝A/N: So excited to be back to writing fanfics! Last time I posted on here was like, August of 2023. I've grown a lot since then haha, both as a writer and as a person (I hope). Thank you for reading <3 I hope this story finds someone who's as obsessed with "Only" as I am lol.

[h-c-u]

Keep your eyes open

Summary: Mirror sex. Nothing else. Not even a crumb of plot.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader (no y/n, just honorifics) 

W/C: 4k

Rating: +18, age Gap, size difference, praise kink, oral hyper-fixation, marking, overstimulation, soft!dom/sub

A/N: I'm back, bitches! xD Bon Appétit <3

Masterlist | List of tags

Was the whole room vibrating, or was it just you...? Your mind needed a moment to focus and find yourself back in reality.

Your whole body felt dangerously hot, even though your skin was covered in the thin layer of sweat and you could feel your hair sticking to your face. Your breath was irregular, and heavy, as if you were drowning and someone just pulled you to the surface, and you were trying your best to get enough oxygen into your lungs. Your heart was beating so intensely that you could feel it even in your fingertips and toes... There was a metallic taste on your tongue, and you realised that you bit your lower lip so hard that you drew blood, but you were too overwhelmed to feel the pain.

When your breathing finally calmed down, a heavy sweet and salty scent hit your nostrils, invading your brain and reminding you of what just happened.

You were sitting in Toto's lap, although sitting was a very generous word for the state you were in. Your back was tightly pressed against his chest and for once in your life, his skin was colder than yours. That sensation helped your mind remember how to form coherent thoughts. He was using his knees to keep your legs open, letting them hang limp in the air, not able to reach the ground, so even if you could move - you wouldn't be able to escape. Toto's strong arm was holding your torso under your breasts, keeping you in the upright position as his other hand was gently caressing your thigh. Your head was resting on his shoulder, and it felt so heavy, even though you felt as if you were floating somewhere under the ceiling. His cheek was pressed to your temple and in his low, rumbling voice he was whispering things your mind wasn't able to comprehend.

Very slowly you moved your hands and placed them over his, trying to hold onto him even more, because you still felt like you could slip in between the cracks of reality. But the tone alone was able to soothe you in the way nothing else ever could. You could feel his chest vibrating behind you, while his hand moved from your thigh to your abdomen, covering almost all of it. His rough fingers were tracing unrecognisable shapes on your skin giving you goosebumps, but you loved that sensation. A huge smile sprawled across your face as you finally came back to your body.

You gently squeezed his big forearms, letting him know that you were coherent again, and when you did that - he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

- You want me to do that again...? - he asked in a hushed whisper, and the only thing you could do was nod your head slowly. - You're being so good for me, just let me take care of you... - he pressed another kiss to your head as his hand left your body for a short moment to grab the vibrating wand again, but you stopped him mid-move... Of that, you had enough. - Oh...? - he asked with a fake innocence in his voice. You could hear a sly smile that showed up on his face; you didn't even have to look at him. - You don't want more...? - he teased, even though he already knew exactly what you were asking for.

You let out a quiet mewl of protest, wriggling your hips just a little bit, grinding against his very erect cock, which was gently resting in between your folds, already soaked with your previous releases, but Toto hadn't had his yet... He always took care of you first, no matter what. He even joked sometimes that at his age he might not be able to keep up with you anymore, but that was bullshit because he was almost always able to outlast you; the control he had over his own body... It was something to be admired, especially in moments like this.

- And you think you're ready...? - he asked in a soft, teasing, almost condescending tone as he gently traced his fingers on the inside of your thighs, giving you goosebumps that spread all over your body. His hands rested on your hips for a moment, where his thumbs gently rubbed the skin before he pulled you back, allowing his shaft to slide up, teasing your clit along the way, which drew another twitch from your body. You couldn't help but part your lips, letting out a soft whine from between them, as his hand travelled up your body, teasing your nipples, until he reached your jaw, where his delicate touch tightened. He roughly grabbed you and forced you to look in the mirror in front of you.

You looked absolutely obscene...

Your eyes looked like they were made of glass, your lips were swollen and puffed from constant biting, and your skin glistened in the soft, dim light. Your neck and shoulders were covered in hickeys and bitemarks, already filling up with crimson. Before your gaze travelled lower, you looked up, to catch Toto's grin, but it was far from malicious; he resembled a proud cat, who presented the fruits of his bountiful hunt. He gently nudged your temple with his nose and playfully bit the top of your ear when he noticed you were looking at him, and you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. But it wasn't long before he guided your head forward again so you could go back to examining your body.

Your hair was a mess, sticking not only to your own flushed skin, but also to Toto's, and your nipples stood proudly erect from all the stimulation, and just by looking at them you could feel them tensing even more. You were spread open by his legs, your most vulnerable parts exposed and displayed... Well... They were just a minute ago, but right in the reflection they were hidden behind a long, thick cock, which tip reached your navel, and just the sight of it made you swallow.

When you saw it for the first time, you were convinced there was no chance he'd ever fit inside you, but somehow he made it fit.

As if out of its own volition, your hand travelled to his shaft, and as soon as your fingers traced the length, Toto hissed quietly in your ear, which made you retreat and look down, but that didn't help, because instead of a reflection, your gaze met the real thing and you instantly started salivating. The smooth texture of a dark pink tip was almost glistening in the soft light, and you could see how tensely the skin was stretched over the girth, giving the impression that it was almost too thick to be contained. Every vein was not only visible but practically emphasized... And when it suddenly twitched and touched your abdomen - there was a sticky spot of precum left on your skin.

- I asked you a question, Angel... - he said with a playful grin, and you instantly looked up to catch his beautiful chocolate eyes staring back at you from the mirror. You swallowed loudly and looked down again as if to make sure, you knew what you were getting yourself into. Or rather what you were about to get inside you.

But somehow words eluded you, so instead you just nodded slowly without breaking eye contact with Toto's reflection.

- Well, if you're sure... - he chuckled quietly... - But first I need you to promise me one thing. Do you think you can do that for me...? - he asked, the cunning smile still echoing in his voice. You nodded again, and he licked your exposed neck, soothing the nasty bite he already left there. When he looked at you again, his gaze darkened. - Keep your eyes open. - he said in a stern voice, and you couldn't help but swallow, because you knew what was about to come, and even though every cell in your body craved it, you were aware that it wasn’t going to be possible without a certain amount of pain. - Yeah...? - he asked after not receiving any confirmation from you.

- Yeah... - it was all you were able to say, your voice still strained and raspy from all the screaming.

- Good girl... - he growled and playfully bit your earlobe, at the same time pulling you even closer into him. You almost closed your eyes when his hands started moving down your body, but you stopped yourself at the last second and looked in the mirror again. Your gaze was pulled to Toto's hands under your thighs, where he gave you a gentle squeeze, letting you know to get ready and relax, before lifting you until his thick tip was pressed against your entrance, and suddenly you weren't so sure if you were ready. He looked almost comically big next to you.

But then he started slowly lowering you, and it was too late to back out. At first, there was only the pressure of his smooth head pushing against your opening, without being able to penetrate, until suddenly his cock slid forward on a slippery mess, shot up gliding between your folds and teasing your clit, which forced a loud squeal from between your lips. You could feel his chest moving behind you, as he tried to mask a chuckle. But he didn't say anything... Instead, he pressed a long kiss to your shoulder and lifted you again.

For a moment you thought that the scenario would repeat itself when that pressure at your entrance grew, but then your already relaxed body lost the battle and gave in, swallowing almost a third of his shaft in one go, driving all air from your lungs in a loud squeak. It took a good few seconds for your brain to process the stimuli, and for a moment you didn't even feel the burning pain of being stretched so much that clenching was impossible, but when it hit you, tears almost instantly started gathering in the corners of your eyes... It was all too much, and a single sob left your mouth.

- Oh, I know it hurts, Angel, I'm sorry... - Toto whispered straight into your ear and rubbed his cheek against your temple. - You're being so good for me, taking me so well... - he continued praising you; his hot breath whiffed over your skin causing almost painful goosebumps. You sniffled quietly and mumbled something your brain couldn't comprehend at the moment, your nervous system completely flooded with the sensations coming from inside of you. - Hmmm? What's that? - he made sure that you didn't use your safe word, but you only weakly repeated the quiet plea. - No, baby, we can't stop yet, I'm not even halfway there and your pussy is too pretty to be half empty... - your sobs grew a little bit louder, and the tears finally overflowed and started streaming down your cheeks. - Shhh, shhh, shhhhhh... It's OK if you cry, you're safe, I promise... I love you so much... - his praise made something in your chest bloom and a familiar warmth spilled from that area... You took one deep breath and nodded, letting him know you were ready to continue.

You let your head roll back and rest on his shoulder while his fingers dug into your flesh as he slowly lifted you again in the air. The thickness of his cock pressed against every single spot inside you on its way out, and you let out another sob, this time louder and you could almost feel him smiling, even though you couldn't see his face from this angle, your nose buried in his neck. Your lips latched onto his skin and you started sucking, trying to distract yourself at least a little from the burning pain coming from between your legs.

He didn't let his whole length leave your body to give you a short break, and as soon as the head was about to pop out of you, he started lowering you again almost mechanically, not speeding up or slowing down, allowing you to get used to the sensations. Before your lips left his skin, you gave him a playful bite over the hickey and rubbed your tears away on his neck and with your own shoulder, because bringing your hands to your face required the amounts of energy you didn't possess at the moment.

You let out a quiet squeal when you felt a familiar pressure against your cervix, and the muscles in your thighs involuntarily clenched. You forced your head up to look in the mirror, but you still didn't have enough strength to keep it upright by yourself, so you rested your temple on Toto's cheek, and the view you saw in front of you almost took your breath away...

Both yours and Toto's skin glistened in the dim warm light, giving the impression that you were covered in a gold mist... Your legs hung loosely in his strong hands, your soft flesh giving into his grip, and every place where his fingers dipped into you looked like a secret oasis of desire, showing how much he didn't want to let you go. You didn't realise that before, but your breath synched with his, or his with yours, and you were moving in perfect harmony, both of your chests rising and falling at the same rhythm as if you were a single organism. And then your gaze travelled lower...

You could see your stomach bulging every time he slowly lowered you down, his massive cock invading your abdomen. You could tell exactly where the tip was and the steady movement almost hypnotized you; you couldn't help yourself and your hand traveled to your stomach, where you could feel him move under the skin. It wasn't the first time you were seeing it, but every time was equally fascinating... Seeing your skin stretching to accommodate something so big, and your opening straining around his girth; he was changing your body in front of your eyes, and you loved it more than you could put into words.

And then he lowered you even more and pain shot through your legs and spine; Toto rammed into your cervix, pushing it back into your body, and you couldn't stop a loud whine that left your lips. Your heart rolled back again, all the sensations too overwhelming to consciously process, so you just let yourself ride it through, trusting him completely.

Toto knew your body well by now, so he squeezed your thighs harder, pulling your attention away from the pain inside you, and he rubbed his cheek against your face, inhaling deeply and allowing your scent to invade his senses.

- You're taking me so well, Angel... So tight for me... - he continued praising you and pressing light kisses everywhere his lips could reach. And with his every word, every thrust, you started to feel the tension building up again, the familiar tightness overtaking your body as his cock constantly stimulated your G spot even with the slightest of moves. You grabbed his forearm with one hand and pressed on your stomach with the other - That's it, baby, that's it... Cum for me, pleeeease cum for me. It's ok, you can do it. - his tone was so soft, putting you at ease and you let yourself go yet again, a quiet moan escaping your lips as your legs involuntarily twitched in his hands, disrupting his steady rhythm, but not stopping completely.

Electricity run through your whole body as the tip of Toto's cock dragged against that spot inside you yet again, and you couldn't stop the loud cry that forced itself from your mouth. Your brain felt fuzzy, and as if it was behind a thick wall, not completely belonging to you. You couldn't lift your head, but your eyes locked with his in the mirror, while sob after quiet sob dropped from between your lips.

- Please... Toto... I can't anymore... - you whined, looking at him with a plea painted all over your face. He only smiled in reply and kissed the top of your head, but he didn't stop moving you up and down, almost like a doll. You wrapped your hands around your body and continued crying as he sped up, your whines matching his moves. But despite the pain and all the stimulation, you didn't close your eyes; after all - he told you not to. And he held your gaze; his eyes darkening with your every plea and you could only see determination in them. He held you even tighter as he continued fucking into you; his thrusts getting faster, more desperate, more erratic. - Toto... I can't... I can't cum anymore... - your voice cracked, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your whole body felt hot and cold at the same time as it hung loosely in his arms and rested against his chest. You barely had enough energy to stay still as he used your body.

- Don't worry, this will be the last one, I promise... I know you can do it, Angel... Here, I'll even go nice and slow to help you a little bit, just to be sure you can take it all, hmmm? - he whispered against your skin and you couldn't even reply coherently, as his movements became more drawn out, more deliberate. He was purposefully angling your body so as much pressure as possible was dragging against that sweet spot inside you at any given moment, and your cries started to mix with moans yet again. - That's it, you're doing amazing... You're such a good girl... Just a little bit longer... - his voice was getting husky and gravely, his breaths shallow and uneven; it couldn't be easy for him to manhandle you like that, but he showed no signs of stopping, continuing to move your body up and down his shaft, a cheeky smile curving his lips as he heard the change in your voice.

Against everything you thought you knew about your body, you started to feel another orgasm approaching; slowly, but unmistakably closing in. You couldn't look away from him, because you knew that if you did, you wouldn't be able to take it any longer and his beautiful dark chocolate eyes were the only thing grounding you in reality.

Your broken sobs became higher the closer you were to the peak, and Toto knew it well, that's why you almost screamed in protest when he suddenly stopped, dropping you completely onto his cock, sheathing it in full inside you.

- Toto... Toto, pleeeeease. Please, please, please, I am so close... - you whined and looked up at him, trying to look into his eyes up close, as if that could help.

- I thought you said you couldn't cum anymore... - he teased with a sly smile and a cold shiver ran through your spine. He wouldn't... He couldn't, right...?

- Nononononono... Please... I was wrong, please... - tears of desperation were streaming down your cheeks, but you couldn't care less.

- Oh, Angel... - his voice was soft and soothing; he could never resist your pleas. He playfully bit the side of your neck and immediately licked it at the same time moving you up again and a quiet squeal tore itself from between your lips. - Just a little bit longer... Can you do that for me...? Can you wait for me...? - he whispered quietly with his nose digging into your cheek, his words composed more from heavy breathing than actual sound.

Instead of replying you just nodded enthusiastically and pressed yourself into his chest even harder; not sure when your own body ended and his began. And then he picked up the speed again, and you just couldn't stop your eyes from rolling back into your head. You had to wrap your arms around yourself, so they wouldn't be flailing widely in the rhythm of Toto's moves. You could feel your breasts bouncing, straining against gravity, the slight sting of skin slapping against skin, the sound filling the room in tandem with other sounds. Moans, growls, whines, and whimpers mixed with each other in an unnamed symphony, accompanied by the loud squelching coming from your pussy.

Toto's fingers dug deeper into your flesh to get a tighter grip; your skin was covered in a layer of sweat and he didn't want to accidentally drop you. And if that meant that you'd be donning bruises in the shape of his fingers for the next few days... Oh well.

You were so fucking close... You could almost taste it with your mouth wide open, willing your body to hold on for just a little bit longer. You didn't even feel your fingernails drawing blood from where you were holding onto yourself.

And then something shifted in the air. Toto's growls became deeper and louder, and you could just tell that he closed his eyes and that his eyebrows gathered closer, focusing on the culmination of today's evening. He started thrusting up, although, in the position you were in, it wasn't easy. His face was pressed into your shoulder, his hot breath giving you goosebumps all over.

It wasn't long before you could feel his cock throbbing and pulsing inside you right before release, and as soon as he released the first spurt of cum right against your cervix, he dropped you onto his cock, wrapped his hand around your waist and with the other reached down ad started rubbing your clit with just enough pressure that you came instantly releasing an exhausted yet satisfied cry, allowing your body to act on its own.

Your legs curled up, your toes crossed each other and your stomach tensed, and if not for Toto's arm, you would have slid down from his lap onto the floor. And then he continued rubbing, as all air left your lungs and you became quiet. Or maybe you screamed...? You weren't quite sure, because the only thing you were able to hear was a loud, rapid heartbeat ringing in your ears, as you were spasming around Toto's giant cock inside you. He made you ride your orgasm to the fullest, relishing in the feeling of your soft walls squeezing around him, as your body twitched uncontrollably until it couldn't anymore.

You were left limply laying in Toto's hold, and after you were able to catch your breath you let out a quiet, raspy chuckle.

- I swear to gods, the things you do to me... - you said with disbelief, your mouth was so dry that when you closed it, your tongue almost stuck to the roof of your mouth. Toto joined you in the quiet laughter, his chest rumbling gently under your back

- Ich liebe dich... - he mumbled and pulled you up his lap, even closer to him than you already were, and hid his face in the nook of your neck, taking a deep breath. You lifted your hand and ran your fingers through his soft hair.

- I love you too... - you chuckled again, not exactly by choice... Your body still didn't belong fully to you and it tried to release all the accumulated tension in any way it could, and that also meant that you still randomly twitched from time to time, but that didn't stop you from noticing that Toto's giant hand found it's way to your abdomen, fingers tracing the bulge he was a cause of. - You're not planning on pulling out, are you... - it was more of a statement than a question and your tone was light, almost like a warm laughter.

- I wouldn't dream about it. - he replied and started sucking on the skin of your shoulder again, and you just knew that you were going to wake up with another load of his cum inside you.

Eventually, you were able to look up at your reflection again, and you didn't even try to hide a giant smile that curved your lips. There was no way you could hide all the bitemarks, hickeys and bruises in the coming days, but neither could he, so at least you were matching. 

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

[moniquesha]

issues

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: You wait for your new therapist, and you also meet Bucky.

a/n: i can't move on from bucky in tfaws, plus this is just so short and cute and very realistic. then maybe i'll continue exfil tonight if i'm up for it.

You sit in the waiting room, hands folded in your lap, trying not to think about how many therapists you’ve been through already. Four, to be exact. None of them worked. But according to your research, the one you’re waiting for now is the best.. At least by reputation. The internet spoke of her impressive roster of clients: super soldiers, unnamed heroes, people who lived through impossible things. You didn’t care about that. Well, maybe a little. If she helped them, maybe she could help you too.

You arrived early. Two hours early, to be exact. The receptionist barely looked up from her screen before instructing you to sit and wait. So you did. And you’ve been waiting ever since. An hour has passed. Boredom claws at you, but the thought of leaving your perfect spot, of somehow being skipped after the hell of booking this session, keeps you locked in place.

Then, the couch shifts.

A presence. Subtle, but heavy. You don’t look at first, too lost in your own head, but eventually, curiosity wins out. A glance to the side, and Bucky.

Yes, that Bucky.

He looks just as out of place as you feel. Maybe more. In his metal hand, he holds a small bouquet of flowers, fingers idly gripping the stems. You don’t pry. You could, but that would require speaking, and you’re not entirely sure you remember how to do that properly. Others would ask for a picture. Maybe even an autograph. You would too, if you had even a shred of confidence in your system.

But damn.

You live in a world with wizards, aliens, reality-warping stones, and tech so advanced it defies logic. And here you are, stuck in your own head, unable to even figure yourself out.

Embarrassing.

Surprisingly he's the one to speak first.

“You here for Doc too?”

It takes a second for your brain to register that, yes, Bucky Barnes just spoke to you.

“Sorry, what?”

He huffs out a small breath, like he expected that response, like he’s used to people not keeping up with him right away. His fingers tighten around the stems of the flowers for a second before he nods toward the office door.

“Doc Christina,” he repeats. “You waiting for her too?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” You shift in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how stiff you’ve been sitting this whole time. “Took forever to get an appointment.”

Bucky lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah. She’s got a long waitlist.” He pauses, then adds, “Worth it, though.”

That means something, coming from him. You don’t know his whole story, but you know enough. Enough to understand that if anyone needs therapy, it’s him. Silence stretches between you for a beat. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but it’s not easy either.

“Those flowers for her?”

He glances down at the flowers like he just remembered he was holding them. His fingers flex around the stems before he shrugs.

“Nah,” he says. “For someone else.”

You nod, not pushing for more. If he wanted to elaborate, he would. But something about the way his jaw tenses tells you that whoever they’re for, they mean something. Maybe too much.

Silence settles again, but this time, it’s different. Less awkward, more… understanding. Two people waiting for the same therapist, carrying baggage too heavy to unpack in casual conversation.

Bucky shifts in his seat, then glances at you. “She’s good, you know,” he says, almost like an afterthought. “Doc. She doesn’t fix you, but she helps.”

You swallow down something complicated. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.” Then, a small smirk. “But she’s brutal.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “But.. She’ll help right? Because my healthcare can’t take another beating right now.” you laugh awkwardly, mentally cursing yourself for even speaking too much.

Bucky actually huffs out a quiet laugh. Just a breath, really, but it’s something. He tilts his head slightly, considering you for a moment before nodding.

“She’ll help,” he says, like it’s a promise. “But you might leave every session feeling like you went ten rounds with a heavyweight.”

You grimace, sinking further into your seat. “Great. Love that.”

He smirks, but there’s something softer in his expression now. Maybe he sees a little too much of himself in you. Maybe he just knows what it’s like to sit in this exact spot, dreading whatever comes next. For a moment, you forget who he is. Forget the history, the stories, the headlines. He’s just another person waiting for help. Just like you.

“What are you here for?”

You freeze for a second, caught off guard by the question.

It’s not like you don’t know the answer. You do. It’s just.. saying it out loud feels different. Feels real. You glance at him, expecting impatience or regret for even asking, but he just looks at you. Calm, waiting. Like he actually wants to know.

You exhale, shifting in your seat. “I, uh..” You hesitate, then force a small, awkward laugh. “Honestly? I don’t even know how to sum it up.”

Bucky nods, like he gets it. Maybe he does.

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “I guess I just feel.. stuck. Like my brain keeps running in circles, and no matter what I do, I can’t get out of my own way.” You glance at him, suddenly self-conscious. “That probably sounds dumb.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Hey, it doesn’t.” He leans back against the couch, staring ahead. “Sounds about right.”

You sit in silence for a moment before you finally ask, “What about you?”

His jaw tenses slightly, his grip on the flowers tightening again. For a second, you think he won’t answer.

Then, quietly, he says, “Trying to make peace with a past that won’t let me go.”

It’s simple. Honest. Heavy.

You don’t push, and he doesn’t say anything more.

But somehow, just sitting there waiting, together, feels like a small step forward.

You exhale, staring ahead. “Well, I hope for a better us. In the future. If that's possible.”

There's silence after that, but it doesn’t feel awkward. It just lingers, settling between you both like a shared thought neither of you knows how to put into words.

Bucky shifts slightly, then leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “It will,” he says eventually. “Just takes time.”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. “Time’s kind of a pain in the ass, though.”

That earns a smirk from him. “Yeah. That, it is.”

The receptionist calls a name. Not yours, not his. The waiting continues, but at least now, you’re not doing it alone.

Bucky lets out a quiet scoff, watching as someone disappears into the therapist’s office. “Finally, the line is moving.”

You nod, stretching your legs out slightly. “Guess that means we’re one step closer to getting our brains picked apart.”

He smirks, shaking his head. “Yeah. Brace yourself.”

You chuckle, but there’s a nervous edge to it. The thought of actually stepping into that office, of unpacking everything you’ve been carrying, feels heavier now. But at the very least, you’re not the only one feeling it.

After some time, the receptionist finally calls your name.

You exhale sharply, nodding as you stand. Before heading to the office, you turn to Bucky and give him a small smile.

“Hope your girl likes those flowers. They’re beautiful.”

There’s a brief pause, and then because your brain refuses to let you leave without making it worse. You awkwardly add, “Or boy… if you’re into that. Yeah, I’m going.”

Bucky blinks, clearly caught off guard. Then, to your absolute surprise, he actually chuckles, showing his charming smile.

You nod to yourself, as if that somehow saves you from the awkwardness, and turn away. But just as you reach for the doorknob, you hear him say, “They’re for a friend.”

You glance back, and he’s still smirking, shaking his head slightly like he can’t believe you just said that. But there’s something softer in his expression, something almost appreciative.

“Good luck in there,” he adds.

You huff out a breath, gripping the doorknob. “Yeah. You too.”

And with that, you step inside, ready. Sort of.. To face whatever comes next.

a/n: see! cute!

divider from: omi-resources