#then laugh and brush it off and go back to not singing again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 5 months ago

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Little Star

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

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

Based on this request

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

Happy birthday indeed.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”

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

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

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

“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:

No luck here either. What’s going on?

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

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

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

The responses come in rapid succession:

Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?

Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You ask, your voice small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Max?” You say softly.

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N,

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

Love,

Charles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel better?” He asks gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”

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

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

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

“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen. “Max ...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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amoressb · 1 month ago

Text

───── STEALING KISSES 양정원 Y. JW

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ he just cant get enough of your strawberry chapstick ｡｡ idol!jungwon x reader .

FLUFF & wc. 900 + ; kissing, skinship, petnames ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

yang jungwon sat in front of his desk, the soft glow of his ring light perfectly highlighting his features. his fans had been eagerly awaiting this live broadcast and as always, jungwon delivered—laughing, answering questions, and teasing snippets of upcoming music.

“let’s see…’what’s your favorite thing about performing?’ hmm, probably the energy from you guys,” he said with a smile, leaning closer to the camera. “nothing beats hearing you sing along.”

the chat was flooded with love for his answer, but just as he was about to tease another song, the door to his room opened softly.

he glanced up mid-sentence and his words faltered. standing in the doorway was you, his girlfriend, dressed in his oversized hoodie that nearly swallowed you whole. your hair was slightly messy, your face fresh and soft, and your lips curved into a shy smile as your eyes met.

jungwon smiled back, his gaze softening. “uh, hold on a second, guys,” he said to the live audience, waving a hand at the camera before standing up.

the chat erupted in confusion :

“who’s there??”

“what’s happening?”

“was that his manager?”

jungwon didn’t respond, already walking away from the desk. he approached you with a small, fond smile. “hey,” he said softly. “didn’t think you’d wake up so soon.”

“i didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said, your voice just above a whisper, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of his hoodie. “i was just heading to the kitchen…”

“you’re not interrupting baby,” he assured you, pulling you gently into his arms. his lips found yours in a quick, light kiss, a reflex more than anything, but the moment he pulled back, he hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly.

“wait, what is that?” he asked, leaning closer. “what’s what?” you asked, confused.

“that taste…” he kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the soft, fruity flavor lingering on your lips. “strawberry? is that your chapstick?” you giggled, your cheeks flushing. “yeah, it is…why?”

“i like it,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you once more.

“you’re live, wonnie,” you reminded him between kisses, laughing softly as you gently pushed at his chest. “i know, but…” he pouted, his voice dipping into a playful whine. “you taste so good.”

“stop,” you teased, though your laughter only encouraged him. “seriously, go back to your fans before they riot.”

“i don’t want to,” he admitted with a grin, holding you closer. “i’d rather stay here with you.”

you cupped his face in your hands, pressing one last kiss to his lips before stepping back. “go,” you said firmly, though your tone was light. “you’re going to get in trouble if you keep disappearing.”

he sighed dramatically, leaning in for one last kiss before heading back to his desk. “okay okay, but i’m coming back later.”

when he sat down, the chat was in chaos:

“WHERE DID YOU GO??”

“you look too happy right now 👀”

“HE’S BLUSHING! WHAT’S GOING ON?!”

he laughed, scratching the back of his neck, “alright, alright,” he admitted. “someone special is here, and…i got a little distracted, but it’s her fault tho…her chapsticks amazing.”

the chat erupted with laughter, teasing, and endless questions but jungwon just smiled, brushing it off. “let’s move on, okay?”

minutes passed but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. the way you tasted, the soft giggle that echoed in his ears, it was driving him insane.

“actually, hold on one more second,” he said abruptly, dashing out of frame again.

this time, you were in the living room, scrolling through your phone. when you saw him approach, you raised an eyebrow. “wonn,” you said pointedly, though you couldn’t hide your amused smile. “you’re live.”

“i know,” he replied, pulling you into his arms once more. “but i couldn’t stay away.”

“you’re impossible,” you said, laughing as he kissed you again. “and you’re delicious,” he countered with a grin.

“go back before your fans start a petition to find out what’s going on,” you teased, poking his chest. “they already know,” he admitted with a chuckle. “well kind of…i told them it’s your chapstick’s fault.” you rolled your eyes but kissed him again, soft and lingering. “go jungwon. now.”

“fineeee,” he sighed dramatically, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before heading back to his desk.

after another hour, he finishes the live and says goodbye to his fans, jungwon closed his laptop and turned off the ring light. as he got up, he found you still sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone. he walked over and flopped down beside you, resting his head on your lap.

“how’d it go?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. “pretty sure i just gave the fans their biggest mystery of the year,” he joked, looking up at you with a grin.

you laughed softly, “you’re terrible at hiding things, you know.”

“maybe,” he said, sitting up slightly. “but i don’t think i want to hide you anymore.” your breath caught at his words, your cheeks flushing. “wait…you mean that?”

jungwon nodded, his expression sincere. “i’m not saying we need to make it public right now, but…i don’t want to pretend you’re not the best part of my day.” your heart melted at his words and you leaned in, kissing him softly. “you’re the best part of my day, too.”

he smiled against your lips, his hand cupping your cheek. “good. now, do we have any more of that chapstick? i think i’m actually addicted.”

you laughed, playfully smacking his arm. “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculously in love with youuu,” he countered, pulling you in for another kiss.

this time, there were no interruptions, no excuses, just the two of you, stealing kisses in the quiet comfort of your shared apartment.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz @hyukabean

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tender-rosiey · 3 months ago

Note

MOOOOOOREE SUKUNA WITH HIS SHY DAUGHTER🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

lull — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: this idea holds a special place in my heart (also am i back? who knows)

your daughter squirms restlessly in her futon, her tiny hands clutching the edges of her blanket.

she’s been unusually fussy tonight, her soft murmurs rising each time you try to ease her into slumber.

you sit beside her, brushing a hand through her fine hair. “d/n,” you murmur gently, “it’s time to sleep.”

she shakes her head, her lips trembling in that way that precedes a fit of tears. “mama stay,” she whispers, her wide eyes glistening.

you sigh, glancing toward the doorway where sukuna leans, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the room.

his usual scowl is firmly in place, his arms crossed as he watches the scene unfold with thinly veiled impatience.

“she won’t settle,” you say softly, your voice carrying a tinge of exasperation. “it’s been almost an hour.”

sukuna raises an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flicking between you and the tiny, restless figure on the futon. “she’s three,” he grunts. “just tell her to sleep.”

“oh, yes, because commanding a toddler works so well,” you reply dryly, shooting him a look. “why don’t you try?”

his eyes narrow. “me?”

“yes, you.” you stand, brushing off your kimono. “she’s your daughter too, isn’t she?”

sukuna clicks his tongue, clearly displeased, but he doesn’t protest further. he steps into the room, his presence overwhelming the small space.

your daughter freezes, her wide eyes locking onto him as she clutches her blanket tighter. she’s always been shy around him, despite—or perhaps because of—his imposing nature.

you stifle a smile as you watch the scene unfold, stepping back to lean against the doorway.

“go on,” you urge, folding your arms. “show me how the mighty king of curses handles bedtime.”

he glares at you but kneels beside your daughter’s futon.

she stares up at him, her small frame looking even tinier next to his broad shoulders. for a moment, neither of them moves, the silence stretching taut between them.

sukuna finally exhales through his nose, his expression softening—just barely. “d/n,” he says, his deep voice unusually gentle, “it’s time to sleep.”

she blinks at him, her grip on the blanket loosening slightly. “not sleepy,” she mumbles, her voice barely audible.

sukuna frowns, glancing over his shoulder at you.

you shrug, clearly enjoying his discomfort. he turns back to your daughter, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and awkwardness.

“close your eyes,” he tries again, his tone more commanding this time.

her bottom lip wobbles. “no…”

you bite back a laugh, and sukuna shoots you a murderous glare. he sits back on his heels, clearly at a loss. then, as if remembering something, his gaze flicks to you again.

“she likes when you sing to her,” you offer helpfully, knowing full well how he’ll react.

his scowl deepens. “I don’t sing.”

“well, tonight you do,” you reply, your grin widening. “come on, sukuna. you’re her father. she’ll fall asleep in no time.”

he looks like he’d rather fight a dozen curses barehanded than follow your suggestion, but your daughter’s soft, expectant gaze leaves him with little choice.

he sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair before turning back to the little girl.

“what do you want me to sing?” he asks gruffly, his voice low.

she hesitates, her tiny fingers playing with the edge of her blanket. “lullaby?” she whispers, her eyes darting to you for reassurance.

you nod encouragingly at her, then at sukuna. “go on,” you urge. “she’s waiting.”

he grumbles under his breath but clears his throat.

the sound is awkward, hesitant—so unlike the confident and domineering man you know. your daughter watches him intently, her wide eyes filled with curiosity.

he begins, his deep voice rough at first, as if the act of singing is foreign to him. but as he continues, his tone evens out, and the melody flows smoother.

it’s a simple tune, one you’ve hummed countless times to your daughter, but hearing it from sukuna feels different.

your daughter’s eyelids begin to droop, her small body relaxing under the soothing tone of his voice. her hand rests on his knee, gripping it ever so slightly.

you can’t help but smile, your heart swelling at the sight of sukuna—fearsome, unyielding sukuna—softened by the presence of your child.

as the lullaby comes to an end, sukuna’s voice trails off, and the room falls silent. your daughter is fast asleep, her breathing slow and steady.

sukuna watches her for a moment, his crimson eyes unreadable. then, almost hesitantly, he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from her face.

“she’s asleep,” he mutters, his voice quiet.

you step forward, kneeling beside him. “see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

his eyes flit up to yours as he glares at you. “you won’t speak of this ever again, you hear?”

“of course,” you say, though the smile tugging at your lips suggests otherwise.

sukuna rises to his feet, his towering form casting a shadow over the futon.

he looks down at your daughter, his expression softening in a way that you have become used to whenever it involved your daughter.

without a word, he turns and strides toward the door, pausing only to glance back at you. “you coming?” he asks.

you gently pet your daughter’s head before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. you look at him and smile, “yeah.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss@pompompurin1028@scul-pted@requiem626k@nameless-shrimp@sonder-paradise@jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author

@libbyistired @anon1412@maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1@sad-darksoul@ko-fi-heart@pumpkindudeishere@suyaaachin@babyqueen17@chaosguy352@murakami-kotone@sukun4ryomen@yumieis@hearts4itoshi@sleepyxxhead@dunixxd@sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08@spacebaby1@arabellatreaty@viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe @enidths @mwtsxri @peppersapro @uranosbaaee @lifeisadumpie @guacam011y @kurooandkenmasslut @callmemirro @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @dindjarins1ut @candy-s72 @lulumi1u

do not copy or plagiarize or I will sneeze in your face

check out my buy me a coffee!

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen x you #ryomen x reader #jjk sukuna x reader #sukuna x female reader #sukuna ryoumen x you #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna fluff

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nicholasluvbot · 19 days ago

Text

LOVE LOOKS PRETTY ON YOUㅤ𓈒ㅤ奕翔 ── 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀—𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗎𝗉.

ㅤ

𝒇 ! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽erㅤㅤ𖥔ㅤㅤ857ㅤㅤ❛ 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖾𝗌𝗍.𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉ㅤㅤ ─── 𝖼𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗒 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗌 >< 𝖣𝖮𝖲𝖲𝗂𝖤𝖱

𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 ! 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 ^_^ 🌷

You step into the &TEAM dorm, excited to have breakfast with your boyfriend, Nicholas. You’re greeted by K, who glances up from his phone with a lazy stretch.

“Nicholas is still asleep,” he says, setting his phone down. “If you’re gonna wake him up, be careful.”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

K raises an eyebrow. “He’s… not a morning person.”

“Okay, and?”

“And he gets grumpy,” he emphasizes. “Snappy. Just don’t take anything he says to heart.”

That makes you pause. Grumpy? Nicholas? Your Nicholas? The one who melts if you so much as hold his hand? You can’t imagine him snapping at you.

Brushing off K’s words, you head to Nicholas’ room and quietly push the door open.

Your boyfriend is curled up under his blanket, long limbs tangled in the sheets. His hair falls messily over his forehead, lips parted slightly, breathing slow and even. His usual sharp, confident look is nowhere to be seen—he looks soft, completely unguarded.

Your heart melts. He does look really comfortable. Maybe you should let him sleep a little longer—

But then your stomach growls, reminding you why you’re here in the first place. Breakfast.

You climb onto the bed, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead. “Nicholas,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

A soft groan leaves his lips as he stirs, brows scrunching.

You poke his cheek. “Come on, I’m hungry. Wake up so we can eat together.”

Another groan, this time more annoyed. He pulls the blanket higher, burying his face in his pillow. “Go ‘way.”

You stifle a laugh, K’s words echoing in your mind. “That’s not how you talk to your beloved girlfriend,” you tease, running your fingers through his messy hair.

“I’ll apologize later,” he mumbles into the pillow. “Come back in like… two hours.”

Two hours? Yeah, that’s not happening.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Then another. And another. “Nicholas,” you sing softly, trailing your fingers over his arm. “Wake up, please?”

“Mm.” He shifts slightly but still refuses to open his eyes, his brows furrowing like he’s trying hard to stay annoyed. “You’re being annoying.”

You giggle. “Oh, I’m being annoying?” You intertwine your fingers with his and bring his hand to your lips, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles. “I thought you loved me.”

Nicholas sighs heavily. “I do. But I also love sleeping.”

You laugh, continuing your gentle assault of kisses. “You love me more, right?”

He grumbles something incoherent, but when you pull away from his hand, he lazily reaches out and pulls you against him.

“…Yeah,” he admits, voice still thick with sleep.

Grinning, you take the chance to pepper more kisses across his face and neck. “You’re so cute, you know that?” you whisper, playing with his hair. “Even when you’re grumpy.”

Nicholas sighs again, but this time it’s softer. Less annoyed. His lips twitch, a small smile peeking through. “Stop,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words.

You hum. “Hm, I don’t think I will.” You tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “How can I stop when my boyfriend is this adorable in the morning?”

His ears turn pink, and finally, finally, his eyes flutter open—sleepy, unfocused at first, and then they settle on you. A laugh escapes his lips.

You smile, squishing his cheeks. “There you are,” you coo. “My sweet, sleepy boy.”

“You’re impossible,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep, but there’s no irritation left—only warmth. His grip on your waist tightens slightly, holding you against him.

“Five more minutes,” he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You gasp. “Hey! You said that last time, and it turned into thirty minutes!”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin, and his arms wrap tighter around you. “But you’re so comfy,” he almost whines.

Your heart melts. You press one last kiss to the top of his head before giving in.

You let him have his five minutes.

Or, well… twenty.

When you both finally walk out, Nicholas looks significantly less grumpy. His hair is a mess, but the scowl his members are usually greeted with every morning is replaced with something unusual. Something too happy.

K crosses his arms. “What did you do to him?”

You blink innocently. “What do you mean?”

EJ leans forward, pointing an accusing banana at Nicholas’ chest. “Yesterday, you chucked your phone at my head when I tried waking you up.”

You laugh it off. “Come on, he’s not that bad.”

Nicholas shrugs, completely unbothered. He takes a seat beside you, grabbing some toast. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

K glares. “No, because I tried to wake him up the other day, and he threatened to—”

Nicholas takes a bite of his toast and smirks. “Guess I’m only grumpy when you wake me up.”

The two boys scoff in disbelief, rolling their eyes as Nicholas presses a kiss to your temple. They exchange looks, biting back their smiles.

The same thought running through their minds—

Love looks pretty on Nicholas.

‎ ‎ • 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 🗯 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 ───── 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ˆᗜˆ

tags ( &team ) @coquettejunnie , @hanninova , @aloe-7 , @rizzkisworld , @slytherinshua , @lune-net , @kstrucknet , @k-films , @sgz-net

548 notes · View notes

desperate-gay · 6 days ago

Note

based off those two bf pictures of ingrid, ingrid, “you’re the only boyfriend i’ll ever have”, team outting

Caveman

Ingrid Engen x fem!reader

“Maybe we shouldn’t go.” Ingrid husks between heated kisses, gripping your thighs which rest on either side of hers.

Your lips pause their attack on the Norwegian’s, a smug grin spreading across your face at how quickly her facade has crumbled.

“Oh no, my love. You said it yourself, team outings are very important for the team.” You click your tongue in disapproval, your lips still hovering just a millimeter above hers.

“I said that before knowing what else we could be doing.”

The sudden blare of your phone ringing from across the room echoes through your shared apartment, pulling your attention away. Ingrid, unwilling to let go of the moment, leans in to reclaim your focus. But just as her lips are about to brush against yours, you twist away, reaching for your phone instead.

“Hello?” You answer without bothering to check the caller. “Ah, Patri! Sí, estaremos allí pronto.”

Ingrid groans loudly, tilting her head back dramatically against the couch while her hands continue their slow, teasing movements along your thighs.

“Was that Ingrid?” Patri asks on the other end of the line.

“Sí. She’s just a little unhappy about the plans we’ve had set all week!” Your voice rises slightly, deliberately drawing Ingrid’s attention, causing her to shoot you a death glare in response.

“Ohhh, I cockblocked her!” Patri cackles, her laughter booming through the speaker.

Ingrid groans once again, already dreading the teasing she’ll have to endure later. She watches you giggle softly behind your hand, attempting to muffle the sounds to prevent annoying your girlfriend further more.

“Patri, I should probably go before you see my face on the news under body found.” You glance at Ingrid, whose pout has deepened into a full-on grumpy scowl.

After a few more exchanges of goodbyes and see-you-soons, you finally end the call. The glare fixated on you becomes deadly now that there are no distractions left.

“Amor, once we’re done hanging out with the team, we can come back home and do whatever you like, vale?” You offer, resting your hands on both sides of Ingrid’s face, switching your eyes between both of hers.

“Fine, but only if you give me a kiss first.” Ingrid demands before shutting her eyes and pursing her lips.

You roll your eyes with a laugh, leaning in as if you're going to grant her wish only to swerve at the last second, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek instead.

“There. Now let’s go.” You tease, pulling away quickly and hopping off her lap.

Ingrid’s eyes snap open, and she immediately glares at you. “That doesn’t count.”

“It does too.” You sing, trailing around to the other side of the sofa.

“No. A real kiss, or I’m not moving.” She huffs, crossing her arms like a child denied candy.

Shaking your head in amusement, you run your hands from her shoulders to below her jaw, angling her head back. Leaning over, you capture her lips in a deep, lingering kiss, nearly recreating the iconic Spider-Man kiss.

Once you pull away from her lips, you place one more sweet peck on the beauty mark that lies between her eyebrows. Ingrid smiles softly at the gesture before tapping her hands against her thighs in motivation.

“Now we can go!” The brunette basically hops off the couch.

“You’re impossible.” You exhale sharply with a soft shake of your head.

—

“Mis amigas!” Claudia shouts from across the bar, already sounding tipsy from both her volume and looseness.

“There you guys are. We almost thought you bailed out on us.” Frido teases, rubbing your shoulders playfully.

“We’re only 10 minutes late, you know?” You roll your eyes as the team huddles around, while Ingrid remains at your side with a smile.

Dressed in nearly all black—leather jacket, turtleneck, and baseball cap—Ingrid looks unfairly good. The sight alone makes you want to drag her back home already.

“Ah! You two are here!” Patri exclaims, walking over to you two, having been at the bar before.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re here.” Ingrid grumbles, already tired of being bombarded for her minimal tardiness.

“Aw, miss grumpy over here.” Patri coos playfully, patting Ingrid’s shoulder with mock sympathy. “Stay strong, hermana.”

Ingrid scowls, her eyes narrowing in silent warning.

“I’m gonna go get us drinks, okay?” You whisper in the ear of your girlfriend, standing on your tippy toes to reach.

“Ok, kjære. Be careful.” Ingrid warns, resting her hand on your back before watching you head across the room.

Ingrid lets out a long sigh she didn’t know she was holding before taking off her hat and jacket to place near Alexia and Irene. She should’ve known her short peace would be disrupted soon when Patri approaches her once more.

“So, on a scale of one to raging frustration, how mad were you when I called?” Patri asks with a grin, sipping the drink in hand.

“Would you like me to show you my frustration, amiga—”

“Who’s that by your misses?” Kika asks from across the table, nodding her head towards your figure at the end of the bar.

Ingrid’s eyes immediately lock onto you and the man standing beside you. She takes note of the way you’re not pulling away or looking uncomfortable but smiling? Her eyes must be deceiving her because why would a man make you smile?

“Uh oh. The beast has awakened.” Claudia sings, hiding behind her glass.

Ingrid doesn’t hesitate. She instantly strides over, inserting herself between you and the stranger before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You look up at her with a curious gaze but allow it nonetheless.

“There you are, min kjærlighet. I’ve been waiting for you.” Your girlfriend says, her tone surprisingly mild.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just got caught up in a conversation with…” You trail off, having noticed you never goy the stranger's name.

“Derek. It’s nice to meet you. You must be her friend?” Derek extends his hand with a friendly smile, not meaning any harm.

“Girlfriend.” Ingrid deadpans, begrudgingly shaking the man’s hand.

“My apologies.”

You clear your throat in an attempt to break the uncomfortable tension that has formed. “Derek here was just telling me how nice Norway was. He and his boyfriend visited recently.”

Ingrid’s eyes widen at your statement, realizing her worries were unfounded. You rub her side comfortingly, easing her tension.

“Oh! Well you should visit Tromsø during winter. It’s beautiful that time of year.” Ingrid smiles awkwardly in which Derek just chuckles.

“I’ll be sure to tell my boyfriend that. Speaking of boyfriend, I should probably return to him and my friends. It was nice meeting you two.” The man nods, grabbing his drinks before turning to return to his friends.

Once he’s gone, Ingrid traps her lip between her teeth, avoiding your insistent gaze.

“Let's go back to our friends, yeah?” You insist, grabbing your drinks before allowing her to drag you off to the table.

Once you arrive, you carefully place your two drinks on the surface and find your seat on your girlfriend’s lap. You wrap your right arm around her neck while your other picks up your drink before taking soft sips.

“I feel like a jealous, overprotective stupid boyfriend.” Ingrid mutters, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Well, you’re the only boyfriend I’ll ever have.” You tease, grabbing her baseball cap and placing it back on top of the girl’s head.

Ingrid groans embarrassingly, cocking her head to the side and nuzzling it into your neck with the best of her abilities due to her hat. You chuckle softly, rubbing your hand up and down her back.

“Dios mio, that was better than a movie.” Mapi cackles, nudging Patri while the rest of the table erupts in laughter.

“I should start calling every time I think you two are busy.” Patri grins, winking at you.

Ingrid groans into your neck, only making the team laugh harder.

“You’re all insufferable.” She mutters.

“Awww, but we love you.” Frido coos dramatically, batting her lashes.

You chuckle, running your fingers through Ingrid’s hair. “See, baby? They love you. Even when you go all caveman on me.”

“Caveman?” Ingrid pulls back, raising a brow at you.

“Well…” You draw out, playfully tugging the brim of her cap. “You did stomp over here and practically growl at poor Derek.”

“That was not a growl.” She protests.

“That was definitely a growl.” Kika chimes in, bumping shoulders with a laughing Ewa.

“I think I even saw her sniffing the air first,.” Claudia adds, barely containing her laughter.

Ingrid groans again, her grip on your waist tightening as she tries to hide her flustered expression. “You’re all the worst.”

“And you’re whipped.” Alexia finally speaks up, smirking as she sips her drink.

The table erupts in agreement, and Ingrid sighs in defeat.

“But you’re my whipped caveman.” You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to Ingrid’s cheek.

Ingrid huffs, but the way she holds you even closer tells you she secretly loves it.

#ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #patri guijarro #alexia putellas #ewa pajor #kika nazareth #fridolina rolfö #claudia pina #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #woso #lgbtq

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wendichester · 13 days ago

Note

please can I request Sam x reader where Sam’s like a lovesick puppy and reader is obvious even though it’s painfully obvious

also plz can I be 💌 anon? (I’m the one who requested happier hehe)

₊ ° ⊹ ♡ truly, madly, deeply,

summary. sammy is absolutely smitten for you but you're clueless

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 607

notes. thank you so much for requesting hon! you always have the best ideas ehe 😙🩷

Sam Winchester is completely, hopelessly, stupidly in love with you.

And the worst part? You have absolutely no idea.

Dean sees it. Cas definitely sees it. Hell, even random strangers you meet on hunts seem to pick up on it within five minutes of talking to him. But you? You remain blissfully oblivious, flashing that gorgeous smile of yours at Sam without realizing that every time you do, it knocks the wind right out of his lungs.

He tries to play it cool, he really does. But then you go and do something unbearably cute—like scrunching your nose when you’re trying to decipher old Latin texts, or singing off-key in the car like nobody’s listening—and suddenly, he’s a goner all over again.

“Dude,” Dean mutters one evening at a dive bar, watching Sam’s gaze track your every move as you laugh at something on your phone. “You’re making heart-eyes so hard it’s embarrassing.”

Sam tears his eyes away from you (which is a Herculean effort, honestly) and frowns at his brother. “I am not.”

Dean just raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You sigh dramatically every time she leaves the room, Sam. If this were a chick flick, you’d be the guy writing sad poetry in the rain.”

Sam glares, but before he can argue, you slide back into the booth next to him, all bright eyes and warmth, completely unaware of the conversation you just interrupted.

“Guys,” you say, holding up your phone. “Did you know baby goats scream like people? Listen to this.”

You press play on the video, and sure enough, the high-pitched shrieks of tiny goats fill the bar. You dissolve into giggles, pressing a hand against Sam’s arm as you lean closer, and just like that, his heart forgets how to function properly.

Dean looks at him like, See? You’re doomed.

And honestly? Sam kinda is.—

It gets worse when you fall asleep on him in the Impala.

You start nodding off somewhere outside of Tulsa, head lolling against the window before eventually finding its way onto his shoulder. Sam freezes. He can literally feel the warmth of your breath against his neck, your body soft and trusting as you curl into him.

Dean catches his panicked expression in the rearview mirror and smirks. “Try not to combust, Romeo.”

Sam ignores him, carefully adjusting so you’re more comfortable, letting his fingers brush lightly against your arm. You sigh in your sleep, pressing closer. He’s pretty sure this is what heaven feels like.

The problem is, Sam doesn’t know how to tell you.

He could. He should. But every time he works up the nerve, you flash him that beautiful, unsuspecting smile, and he panics. What if it ruins everything? What if you don’t feel the same?

So, he suffers in silence. Until one night, when he wakes up from a nightmare and finds you sitting beside him, worry creasing your brow.

“Hey,” you whisper, brushing his hair from his forehead. “Bad dream?”

He nods, still catching his breath. You don’t hesitate. You just shift closer, resting your head against his shoulder, the same way you always do when you want him to know you’re there.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion or the way your hand finds his without thinking, but before he can stop himself, Sam blurts out, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

His heart nearly stops.

Then, you pull back just enough to look at him, your expression unreadable. Sam braces himself for rejection, for awkwardness, for anything but the soft, breathless way you say, “You think?”

And then you kiss him, and suddenly, Sam doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @bamboobooshark ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @szyszoszelest ⋆ @angelicalm3ss ⋆ @writtenbyhollywood ⋆ @larasalii ⋆ @yeehawgiddyup13 ⋆ @xo-zeze ⋆ @jules-pagie ⋆ @freeluigihesbae ⋆ @viarasvogue ⋆ @ladykitana90

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam wicnhester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req

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uracutieraka · 1 month ago

Text

Bakugo Katsuki as your boyfriend!

small scenarios of what it's like to date the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite!

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

'who would win in a fight kacchan? Me or Mina.' Denki asks, hands on his hips as he turns to the Blond hoping to settle this petty argument.

'Y/n.'

A scoff leaves Mina's mouth as she crosses her arms and turns back to Denki.

'I knew you shouldn't have asked him!'

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

'Bakugo it's kind of creepy how nice you are around her.' Mina says one day while everyones gathered in the kitchen cooking dinner.

a few hums and words of agreement spill from fellow classmates.

Kirishima interrupts.

'It's totally manly and I am so jealous you got a girlfriend before me! Especially such a hottie too!'

A harsh chop to the side of the red haired boys neck has him falling over in pain.

'Don't call my girlfriend hot asshole!'

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

You two had been cuddled up in your bed, watching videos on your phone.

Katsuki played with your hair, lazily twirling strands between his index and middle finger.

You enjoyed the familiar feeling of the slow rise and fall of his chest. The sounds of his heartbeat also fueling your desire to rest your head on him.

He's quietly humming a random melody you had never heard.

You move your head to look up at him and he looks down at you.

'What'cha singing 'Suki ?'

'Nothin' in particular.'

You chuckle at his response.

He has a wide grin on his face, pupils dilated fully while looking at you.

'You're so cute I think I could die right now.' He moves his hands to squish the bottom half of your face around. Forcing you to pucker your lips out.

You're laughing and moving your head back and forth trying to escape his grip.

He leans down to give you a long and dramatic kiss, complete with sound effects.

'mmmMMWAH!' he pulls off you with a popping sound., letting go of your face.

'Suki! That was so slobbery!'

You wipe your mouth and face off and pull a fake disgusted look.

He rolls his eyes and scoff.

'Whatever.'

'I'm gonna tell everyone how sweet you really are!' It's a hallow threat, holding no real backlash.

'They'll never believe you.' a cheeky smirk now fills his face.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

'Bakugo? What's on your face?' Aizawa asks him one afternoon when the class is about to start training.

Midnight quickly grabs the boys jaw in her hand, turning his head to get a better look at it.

'Oh! You sneaky little thing! Is that a lipstick mark?'

He's quick to escape her grip and jump two steps back.

He stands, puffing his chest a bit and resting his hands on his hips. Tilting his head up and to the side, a cocky look across his face.

'It's from y/n.' He says proudly.

He hears a few gags and 'ew's come from his classmates but he doesn't care.

'So manly!' Kirishima says loudly to himself, pumping a fist in the air and looking down at the ground.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

You're standing at the front gate of your family home, holding Katsuki's hand.

You step forward and gently tug his arm to get him to move.

he takes a slow step.

'What if they hate me?'

You stop moving and turn to face him, lifting your hands up to gently brush over the material covering his shoulders.

You straighten the collar of his polo as well before responding.

'They won't'

He takes a deep breath before grabbing your hand again and giving it a quick squeeze.

You smile back at him as you make it to the front door and a sense of calmness washes over him, if you were confident they would like him then he didn't need to stress too much. After all you know your parents better than anyone else.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

'So Dynamite, it it?,'

He grunts as a response.

Present Mic gives him a side eye and slight eyebrow raise at his lack of words but continues to ask the questions.

'What motivates you to-' He's cut off before he can finish the question.

'My girlfriend, y/n.'

'You didn't even le-'

'Didn't need to. She's what motivates me.'

Present mic rolls his eyes and keeps trying to continue, but Bakugo doesn't let him.

'Yeah, she's just like the best thing that's ever happened to me.' His arms are crossed and a prideful look crosses his face as he continues a long list of reasons why you're the best girlfriend ever.

Present Mic completely gives up any hopes of getting him to actually answer the questions, instead he looks helplessly at his long time friend and coworker, Aizawa.

"Bakugo!" Aizawa's sharp tone causes the Blond to sneer and look over at his teacher with a glare.

'You're done. Go.' His teacher makes a shoo motion with his hand.

Bakugo proudly walks off, sure he totally nailed it. He received his first ever 'F' that day.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

'What'cha drawing there Kacchan?' a wide smile is on the green haired boy's face.

Katsuki's face grows red as he jumps and hurriedly shoves his note book to his chest.

He looks up at Deku's face with wide eyes before speaking.

'Mind your own damn business!'

Uraka now joins in on the conversation.

She turns around in her desk, to look at them both.

'Probably stick figure doodles of him and y/n with their future house, he draws that all the time!'

He drops his jaw with a scoff at her snitching on him.

'Do not!' his voice is harsh and gruff.

Now some of the other students crowd around his desk, curious as to what all the ruckus was.

Mina and Denki are quick to start prying the notebook out of his strong grip.

They want to know if Bakugo is maybe just the slightest bit normal.

Finally Kirishima joins in, with the added strength Bakugo loses the hold he had on the book.

He groans and slams his head down on the desk as the class crowds Mina and Denki, trying to get a glimpse at the said drawings.

Sure enough, doodles of you and him fill the margins of his notes.

'I <3 Y/N' is scribbled between the stick figure people, along with your name paired with his last name.

The girls are all gushing about just how sweet he was for loving you so much, as the boys are now turning to dog on him for being so whipped by you.

He's never going to live this down.

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moonlightdreamzz · 1 month ago

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY — YANG JUNGWON. ♡

goodnight and go

SUMMARY. It's your man's birthday, and you've pulled out all the stops to make sure it's the best one yet.

GENRE. Superrrrrr fluffy + Smut

THEMES. A continuation of Goodnight n Go. Established!Relationship, Idol!Jungwon x Reader, A day full of surprises!! Jungwon has had a very rough and tiring year. Be prepared to feel the feels.

WARNINGS. Mentions of alcohol, everyone gets drunk eventually, drunk birthday $ e x.

FEAT. All members of Enha + TXT members.

AUTHORS NOTE. Happy early birthday to my baby, Yang Jungwon. I forever love you. You deserve the world <333

“Roses are red, violets are blue…” you sing out loud, your eyes focused intently on the crisp white sheet of paper in front of you. Your pen taps rhythmically against the edge of the desk as you will something—anything—poetic to flow from your lips.

Your voice, unfortunately, isn’t half as good as Jay’s. He proves this by letting out a long, dramatic sigh from where he’s sitting across from you, glaring at you with pure disappointment.

“…Your rhymes are bad, and I don’t know what to do,” Jay cuts in, his eyebrows furrowing as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You pause mid-tap and look up at him, feigning offense. “Excuse me, Mr. Park Shakespeare. Where’s your masterpiece, huh?”

Jay smirks, holding up his phone like it’s a trophy. “Already sent. A voice memo. I serenaded him like the angel I am.”

You groan, throwing your head back in defeat before glaring at the nearly blank card on your desk. “Not all of us are blessed with vocal cords made of gold, Jay. Some of us have to work with this.” You wave the pen in his direction.

“Then work faster,” Jay shoots back, leaning back in his chair. “His first party starts in three hours, and that sad excuse for a card won’t write itself.”

“You’re talking about me, but don’t you have a cake to go pickup right about…” you look at the non existent watch on your left arm for dramatic effect before continuing, “now?”

His hands quickly reach behind him to grab the pillow that he was leaning on—your favorite pillow may you add, chucking it at you playfully before standing up. He brushes the invisible dirt off his pants on his journey to slide his shoes on that rested in front of your door.

“You know, I come here to not feel like I’m with Jungwon, but then you act just like him.”

“Well they don’t call us bestfriends to lovers for no reason, now do they?” You snicker, stealthily grabbing your pillow that he threw and returning the favor. It bounces off his back

Jay turns around, catching the pillow mid-bounce before glaring at you. “You’re lucky it’s his birthday tomorrow, or I’d—”

“You’d what? Throw another pillow? Oh no, Jay, not the cushions!” you tease, laughing as he shakes his head in mock annoyance.

He slips his shoes on and pulls out his phone, muttering something about being surrounded by children before glancing back at you. “Alright, I’m off. Try not to stress too much, okay? The card looks fine. And don’t let Jungwon’s puppy eyes make you spiral into thinking you need to write him an epic poem or something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off with a grin. “Don’t forget the cake! And text me when you get there!”

Jay points at you as he opens the door. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you salute as the door closes behind him.

The apartment falls quiet again, and you glance at the clock. Just a little over two hours until the clock strikes midnight and you get to surprise Jungwon with the start of what would hopefully be his best birthday yet.

You pick up the card again, running your fingers over the envelope. The words you’d written earlier suddenly feel inadequate. Jay was right—Jungwon would be happy with just spending time together. But he meant too much to you to settle for “just.”

You tuck the card back into your bag, grab the gift, and head into your bedroom to check on the other surprises you had planned for tomorrow. As you smooth out the edges of the decorations and double-check the little details, a text pops up on your phone.

Jay: Cake secured. Looks too good to be real. Don’t screw this up, Shakespeare.

You snort, typing back a quick response.

You: Just focus on getting it here in one piece. I’ve got everything else under control.

As you smooth out the wrapping paper on the little box, your thoughts drift to the last few months—how everything shifted the night you and Jungwon built gingerbread houses together. It was supposed to be a simple holiday tradition, but somehow, by the end of the night, there’d been flour in his hair, icing on your cheeks, and a kiss so soft it felt like a dream.

Now, months later, the tension that used to linger between you both had melted away. There were no more stolen glances, no more unspoken confessions. Just him, loving you in ways you never even thought to ask for, and you, loving him back with everything you had.

You glance at the clock again. 9:57 PM. Two hours until midnight, and for the first time, you get to be the one to make Jungwon feel special on his birthday.

Jay’s words echo in your head. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. But what Jay didn’t know—what no one really understood—was just how much Jungwon had you wrapped around his.

The way he always manages to make you feel safe, no matter what chaos life throws your way. His love shines so clearly in how attentive he is, always noticing when you’re stressed or tired, even before you do. The quiet way he folds your blanket when you leave it on the couch. The way he checks in on you, not with grand gestures but with little questions like, Did you eat? Are you warm enough?

And then there’s his unique way of thinking that keeps you on your toes. The way his eyes light up when he gets passionate about something, how he always challenges you to see the world in new ways. He’s thoughtful and curious, always asking questions that make you stop and think.

But it’s his passion that really leaves you breathless—the fire he hides beneath that calm exterior. He loves with an intensity that catches you off guard sometimes. Like how he randomly grabs your hand in public, tugging you closer with that confident grin, or the way his kisses always seem just a little more passionate than the last.

And the way he looks at you… it’s like you’re the only person in the world.

Jay would say you’re being dramatic. Maybe you are. But it’s hard not to be when it comes to Jungwon.

The sound of your phone buzzing pulls you from your thoughts. You grab it and see his name on the screen.

Jungwon: Are you still with Jay?

You smile, typing back quickly.

You: Nope, he left. It’s just me now.

Jungwon: Good. I don’t like sharing you with him for too long.

You laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. It’s such a Jungwon thing to say—playful but with just enough honesty that you can feel the weight behind it.

You: Possessive much?

Jungwon: Only with you.

Biting your lip, you set the phone down, unable to stop smiling. You’re about to spend his birthday with him in a way you never imagined just a year ago. Back then, he was your best friend, and now… now, he’s the person you can’t picture life without.

As you gather the last few decorations, you make a mental note to thank past you for saying yes to that first kiss.

Midnight couldn’t come fast enough.

You park outside the HYBE building, your fingers gripping the steering wheel as you try to calm the nervous energy bubbling inside you. The whole ride over, you couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot, but how could you not? You’re the worst at keeping surprises, and Jungwon—being as perceptive as he is—has probably already picked up on the fact that you’re up to something.

You check your phone one last time, scanning through messages from his members and the other idols crammed into your apartment right now.

Jay: He better cry. I’m not doing this again.

Sunghoon: Make sure you stall him if we’re still lighting candles when you get here.

Taehyun: Don’t let him figure it out, or I’m telling everyone how bad you are at holding your liquor.

You roll your eyes with a laugh, texting back a quick thumbs-up before stepping out of the car. Jungwon’s already waiting for you by the doors, bundled in a long coat and scarf.

His face lights up the second he sees you, his smile soft and familiar as he jogs over to the car. “Hey,” he says, sliding into the passenger seat, his tone warm and teasing. “You’re early. That’s new.”

“Wow, hello to you too,” you say, pretending to be offended. But your grin gives you away.

Jungwon leans back in his seat, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “What’s with the smile?”

“What smile?” you deflect, starting the car and pulling out onto the road.

“The one that says you’re hiding something,” he replies easily, cutting straight to the point.

Your heart skips, and you quickly look out the window to avoid his gaze. “I’m just happy to see you, birthday boy.”

“Uh-huh,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. But he doesn’t press further, instead resting his arm on the center console so his hand is close to yours.

The drive feels both too long and too short. Every passing minute makes your excitement grow, but you’re also painfully aware of how close you are to giving yourself away. When you finally pull into your apartment complex, you cut the engine and glance over at him.

“Okay, close your eyes,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungwon raises a brow. “What?”

“Just do it!” you laugh, reaching over to cover his eyes with your hands.

He chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. “You’re so bad at this, you know that?”

“Shut up and trust me,” you say, stepping out of the car and walking around to his side.

He keeps his eyes closed like you asked, though you can tell he’s holding back a smile. You guide him up the stairs to your apartment, your hands lightly on his shoulders to steer him.

When you finally reach the door, you take a deep breath, barely able to contain your excitement. You push it open, leading him inside before dropping your hands.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Open your eyes.”

Jungwon blinks a few times, adjusting to the dim light. His jaw drops the second he takes in the room.

His members are the first thing he notices, all grinning at him like they’ve won the lottery. “Happy birthday!” they yell in unison, their voices echoing through the room.

But it doesn’t stop there. He sees Taehyun, Soobin, and a few other friends from other groups, all cheering and laughing as he stands frozen in the doorway. The walls are decorated with baby pictures and birthday banners, and the table is covered in gifts, letters, and a cake that’s lit with candles.

Jungwon turns to you, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “What is this?”

“It’s for you,” you say, biting your lip nervously. “Surprise.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his eyes darting from the decorations to the faces of everyone who showed up. Then his gaze lands on you, softening as he shakes his head with a laugh.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, his voice filled with warmth.

“And you’re welcome,” Jay calls from across the room, already holding up a tray of shots. “Now, come on, birthday boy, we’ve got a lot of embarrassing toasts to make.”

“And don’t forget shot o clock!” Jake yells seemingly from the darkness.”

Jungwon glances around the room, his heart swelling as he takes in the scene again. His members are goofing off, Taehyun is teasing Sunghoon about something, and Jay is still holding court over the shots table like he owns it. But through all the noise and laughter, his gaze keeps drifting back to you.

You’re standing by the table, quietly fixing a balloon that got knocked out of place. You’re not even looking at him, but there’s something about the way you carry yourself—so sure, so thoughtful, so you—that has him rooted to the spot.

The past year flashes in his mind. It’s been the best year of his life, no question. He got you, the girl he’d quietly loved for so long, the one who knew him better than anyone else. And somehow, despite his flaws, you’d loved him back with an intensity he never thought he deserved.

But it hasn’t been easy.

Being leader means there’s never really an “off” switch. He’s constantly juggling responsibilities, navigating the needs of his members, the demands of the company, and the weight of expectations from the fans. It’s a role he takes seriously—it’s who he is—but it’s also exhausting.

The late nights spent writing and recording. The endless meetings and rehearsals. The pressure to be a pillar of strength when his members need him, even when he feels like he’s crumbling inside.

Some days, he barely has time to breathe.

And yet, through all the chaos, there’s you.

You, who seem to know exactly when he needs to hear your voice. You, who show up at just the right time, armed with his favorite snack or a silly joke to lighten his mood. You, who love him not because he’s Jungwon of ENHYPEN, but because he’s Jungwon, the boy who eats his cereal too slowly and hums when he’s concentrating.

Standing here now, with you and everyone he cares about in the same room, he feels seen in a way he hasn’t in a long time. Not as a leader. Not as an idol. But as a person.

And God, does it mean everything.

His chest tightens as the realization hits him: this—you—is his safe place. The one thing that’s kept him grounded through it all.

“Hey,” you call softly, pulling him from his thoughts. You’ve noticed him staring, and your brow furrows in that adorable way it does when you’re worried about him. “You okay?”

He nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he says, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m more than okay.”

“Alright, everybody!” you call, clapping your hands together and stepping behind the makeshift bar you set up on your kitchen counter. “It’s officially shock o’clock! Who’s ready to turn Jungwon into a real 21-year-old tonight?”

A loud cheer erupts from the room, and Jungwon groans, his head falling into his hands as he sits on the couch. “Why do I feel like this is going to haunt me tomorrow?” he mutters, though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Because it will!” Sunghoon yells, already reaching for one of the brightly colored shot glasses you laid out.

You grin and pick up the bottle of Ciroc, the cool glass catching the light as you wave it in the air. “Y’all, I’ve been waiting all week to make this boy take his first real shot,” you say, pouring a generous amount into a shaker. “So, as your certified bartender for the night, let’s kick this off the right way!”

Jay leans against the counter, giving you a skeptical look. “You know you’re not certified, right?”

“Certified by vibes, Jay. Vibes,” you reply, adding a splash of fruit juice to the mix before giving the shaker an overly dramatic shake.

The room is alive with laughter and music as you pour the first round of shots, the bright liquid glinting in the light. One by one, everyone grabs a glass—Taehyun’s eyes light up as he claims the lime green one, while Sunoo and Jake argue over who gets the pink one.

Finally, you grab a shot glass for yourself and hold it up, nodding toward Jungwon. “Okay, birthday boy, this one’s for you. No backing out now.”

He stands reluctantly, his expression a mix of amusement and mild horror. “You really won’t let me sit this one out, huh?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, your grin mischievous. “You deserve to let loose for once. So, here’s the deal: tonight, you’re not leader Jungwon. You’re just Jungwon. And we’re going to celebrate like crazy because, for once, you’re not allowed to be responsible.”

The room cheers in agreement, and Jungwon lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fine. One shot.”

“One?” Sunghoon says, pretending to be offended. “Nah, it’s shock o’clock all night, my guy.”

Jungwon takes the glass from your hand, his fingers brushing yours. He looks at you, a quiet fondness in his eyes that makes your heart skip. “You really planned all this for me?”

You nod, your voice softening. “Of course I did. You deserve to have fun, Won. Just… let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

His lips curve into a small, genuine smile, and he raises the glass. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The room counts down—“Three, two, one!”—and everyone throws back their shots, the air immediately filling with the sound of gasps, laughter, and groans.

Jungwon coughs slightly, his eyes wide as he sets the glass down. “What was that?”

“Freedom,” you reply with a wink, already pouring the next round.

1:00AM

As the night goes on, you make it your mission to keep the energy alive. You mix drinks with questionable accuracy, cheer the loudest during impromptu dance battles, and even drag Jungwon into a game of flip cup that ends with him laughing so hard he can barely stand.

And for the first time in a long time, you see him completely let go.

His laughter fills the room, his shoulders relax, and there’s a lightness to him that makes your heart swell. He’s not worried about schedules or responsibilities. He’s just Jungwon, a 21-year-old boy surrounded by people who love him.

The room is a swirling mess of laughter and slurred words, the empty Ciroc bottle now serving as the centerpiece for an increasingly wild game of Truth or Dare. Jay and Jake are collapsed on the couch, practically crying with laughter over some inside joke, while Sunoo is doubled over after losing a dare that involved chugging a questionable mix of soda and melted ice cream.

You, still feeling a pleasant buzz but mostly sober, keep a watchful eye on Jungwon, who’s slouched on the floor with flushed cheeks and a lazy grin. He’s definitely the drunkest, though his giggles and the way he clings to your arm are undeniably cute.

“You okay, birthday boy?” you whisper, leaning down so only he can hear.

He nods, blinking up at you with half-lidded eyes. “I’m great,” he mumbles. Then, with a goofy smile, he adds, “You’re so pretty. Have I told you that yet?”

Your heart squeezes, but you shake your head with a laugh. “Not in the last five minutes.”

“Hey! No whispering!” Sunghoon shouts, pointing dramatically at the two of you. “It’s your turn, Jungwon!”

Jungwon sits up straighter, wobbling a little as he tries to focus. “Fine! Truth.”

“Oh, we’re not going easy on you,” Taehyun says, his sharp gaze playful as he leans forward. “Alright, truth: who’s your celebrity crush?”

The room bursts into a chorus of “Oooohs,” and Jungwon scrunches his nose, clearly trying to think through the haze of alcohol. “That’s easy,” he slurs, pointing at you without hesitation. “Y/N’s my crush. And my girlfriend. And she’s way better than any celebrity.”

Your face heats up as everyone howls with laughter and cheers.

“Dude, we meant besides her,” Jay says, shaking his head, though he’s clearly amused.

“Well, that’s my answer,” Jungwon says stubbornly, crossing his arms like a pouty kid.

Your heart swells, and you squeeze his hand gently. “You’re so cute,” you whisper, but he doesn’t hear you over Sunoo daring Taehyun to serenade Sunghoon.

The game continues, the dares growing more ridiculous and the truths more revealing. Jake gets dared to text his old high school crush, while Sunghoon reluctantly admits he once fell off stage during a rehearsal and blamed it on a tech issue.

When it’s Jungwon’s turn again, Taehyun smirks. “Alright, leader-nim. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” Jungwon says, his words slightly slurred but still clear enough to understand.

“Tell us the sweetest thing Y/N’s ever done for you,” Taehyun challenges, a knowing grin on his face.

Jungwon’s expression softens instantly, his gaze locking onto yours. For a moment, it’s like the rest of the room fades away.

“Everything she does is sweet,” he says quietly, his voice warm and sincere. “But… I think the sweetest thing is just how much she cares. Like tonight.” He gestures around the room, his eyes glossy but full of emotion. “She didn’t have to do all this, but she did. She always does. She makes me feel like… like I’m not just the leader. Like I’m not just some idol.”

The room falls silent, everyone staring at Jungwon in awe.

“She makes me feel loved,” he finishes, his words stumbling a little but hitting straight to your heart. “And I love her for that. I love her so much.”

Your breath catches, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. You lean down, cupping his face in your hands as you whisper, “I love you too, Jungwon.”

The spell is broken when Sunghoon shouts, “Oh my God, you two are disgusting!”

Jungwon sticks his tongue out at him, and you laugh, brushing his hair back from his face. “Alright, that’s enough truth or dare for him,” you say, helping him up. “I think the birthday boy needs some water.”

The room erupts in protests, but you ignore them, guiding Jungwon toward the kitchen. As he leans heavily against you, he mumbles, “I meant it, you know. I really love you.”

“I know, baby,” you say softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “And I really love you too.”

Back in the living room, the chaos is still going strong. Jay is attempting to freestyle a birthday rap with Sunoo beatboxing (poorly), while Taehyun cheers them on from the couch. Jungwon, now armed with a glass of water you forced him to drink, flops back onto the floor beside you, watching the scene from the kitchenwith a lazy grin.

“Hey,” he slurs suddenly, turning to you with squinted eyes, “why aren’t you drunk?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean? I am drunk!”

Jungwon snorts, leaning closer as if to inspect you. “You’re a liar,” he says, poking your cheek. “I’ve seen you drunk, and it’s not this. You get all giggly and… and you can’t even walk straight.”

“I can’t walk straight now!” you argue, laughing as you shove his shoulder.

He shakes his head dramatically, pointing a wobbly finger at you. “Nope. Not buying it. You got me drunk—got all of us drunk—but you’re over here being all… responsible and sober. Not fair.”

“I’m not being responsible!” you protest, standing up with an exaggerated stumble for effect. “See? Totally buzzed.”

Jungwon raises an unimpressed eyebrow, then grins mischievously. “Prove it.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes. “Prove what?”

“Take a shot,” he challenges, reaching for the Ciroc bottle. “Take three, actually. Match me.”

“Oh, I’m matching you?” you ask, your voice laced with playful defiance. “Bet.”

The group catches wind of the exchange and immediately starts chanting, “SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!” like a rowdy audience at a college party.

“Don’t do it, Y/N!” Sunoo warns dramatically. “He’s trying to corrupt you!”

“I don’t need his help!” you shoot back, snatching the bottle from Jungwon’s hand. “Let’s go!”

You pour the first shot and down it without hesitation, the burn making your face scrunch up as everyone cheers. Jungwon watches you with wide, amused eyes, clearly impressed.

“Another,” he says, leaning closer, his grin turning sly. “C’mon, baby, keep up.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you warn, pouring a second shot and throwing it back just as quickly.

The crowd erupts again, but your focus stays locked on Jungwon, who’s leaning in even closer now. His warm, alcohol-flushed face is just inches from yours, and his hand brushes your thigh as he steadies himself.

“You’re really doing it,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Please,” you tease, pouring the third shot. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

But as you lift the glass to your lips, Jungwon’s hand catches yours, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Wait,” he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Lemme help you.”

Before you can ask what he means, he tips the glass toward your mouth himself, his gaze never leaving yours. You let him, the shot burning your throat as his free hand slides up your back to your neck, pulling you closer.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear.

Your breath hitches, the mix of alcohol and his touch sending a rush of heat through you. “You’re drunk,” you whisper back, though your voice wavers.

“Yeah,” he admits, his lips now grazing your jaw. “Drunk in love with you.”

The room around you fades into the background noise of laughter and cheers as Jungwon’s kisses trail down to your neck. His hands find your waist, pulling you onto his lap, and you feel his breath against your skin, warm and intoxicating.

“You’re matching me now,” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. “But I think you need one more shot.”

“I’ll take it,” you say, your own boldness surprising you. “If you take it with me.”

Jungwon grins, his lips brushing yours. “Deal.”

You pour two more shots, the tension between you thick enough to drown out everything else. As you clink glasses and down them together, his hands tighten around your waist, and you know this night is far from over.

2:25AM

The party was in full swing now, the bass from Young Nudy’s Peaches and Eggplants rattling the walls of your apartment. The music, the drinks, the flashing LED lights you set up earlier—all of it had turned your cozy little space into a full-blown club.

Your careful planning was paying off, too. A pile of pillows and blankets was stacked in the corner for when the inevitable “too drunk to drive” moment arrived, which you knew was only a matter of time. You’d even stocked up on water bottles and ibuprofen for the morning-after chaos.

But for now, the only thing on your mind was Jungwon.

“Y/N, let him breathe for a second!” Sunghoon hollered from across the room, a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“Like you’re not going to be wrapped up with someone in 10 minutes,” you fired back, throwing a playful glare in his direction.

Jungwon, who was securely stationed behind you, laughed against your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady as you swayed to the beat. The warmth of his touch burned through the fabric of your dress, and every time you shifted your weight, you felt him tighten his hold on you like he was trying to memorize the moment.

“You’re too good at this,” he mumbled into your ear, his voice low and slightly slurred.

“At what?” you asked, tossing a cheeky smile over your shoulder.

“Everything,” he replied without hesitation, his eyes gleaming under the party lights. “Planning this, dancing like this… driving me insane like this.”

“Good,” you teased, leaning back against his chest.

“Good?” he repeated, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re lucky there’s a room full of people here right now.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, but before you could respond, Sunoo appeared beside you, holding up a bottle of tequila like it was a trophy. “Dance floor shots! Let’s go!”

The crowd cheered, and you found a small plastic cup being shoved into your hand. Jungwon reluctantly released his grip on you as Sunoo poured, but his other hand stayed at your waist, possessively.

“Cheers to Jungwon!” Sunoo yelled, lifting his own cup in the air.

“To Jungwon!” everyone echoed, and you both tossed back your drinks.

As the burn hit your throat, you turned back to Jungwon, who was already watching you with that mischievous grin you loved so much. The alcohol had fully hit you now, making the edges of your vision blur and your inhibitions dissolve into the music.

“Let’s dance,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him back into the middle of the room.

This time, there was no hesitation. Jungwon’s hands found your waist again, guiding you as you moved in sync to the beat. You let yourself go completely, swaying and grinding against him as the music pulsed around you.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered against your neck, his breath warm and heavy.

“You love it,” you shot back, your voice dripping with confidence.

“I do,” he admitted, his hands sliding down your sides. “But I don’t think I can wait much longer, baby.”

Your heart raced as his lips brushed against your ear again, his voice dropping even lower. “Tell me everyone’s got a place to sleep tonight, because I need you all to myself.”

You turned in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips brushed his. “I planned for everything,” you whispered, your voice soft but sultry.

“Good,” he murmured, closing the gap between you.

The world around you faded as his lips captured yours, his hands pulling you flush against him. The cheers and hollers from your friends became distant background noise as you got lost in the moment.

But Jungwon didn’t stop there. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and full of unspoken promises. “Let’s get to that bed, Y/N,” he whispered.

You didn’t need to be told twice. With a knowing smile, you grabbed his hand and started leading him toward the bedroom, the rest of the party disappearing behind you.

As soon as the door to your bedroom clicked shut behind you, Jungwon was on you, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. His hands framed your face before sliding down to your waist, pulling you close as he backed you up toward the bed.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” you teased between kisses, your words a little breathless from the intensity.

“It’s my birthday,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. “I get to do whatever I want, right?”

You didn’t argue.

The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you let him guide you down onto the soft mattress. He followed without hesitation, hovering over you as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jawline, and then down to your neck. The weight of his body against yours was grounding, but the way his hands explored every inch of you sent your heart racing.

“Jungwon…” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair as he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. “Wait,” you say, your voice breathy and slurred with the alcohol still coursing through your system. He groans, clearly not happy about the interruption. “I have to give you your first gift before you get your… last gift of the night.” You bite your lip, a teasing glint in your eye.

Jungwon chuckles softly, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re killing me here, Y/N.”

You giggle, taking a step back and swaying slightly as you try to steady yourself. “Patience, birthday boy.”

Still buzzing with excitement, you clear your throat dramatically and start singing Happy Birthday—off-key, loud, and completely unhinged. Jungwon bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach as he doubles over. “Oh my God, you’re so drunk,” he teases between laughs, his eyes crinkling in the way that makes your heart flutter.

“Shut up! This is serious,” you reply, wagging a finger at him. You finish the song with a theatrical bow, nearly tripping in the process, and he catches you with ease.

“You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but his smile is so soft, so full of love, that it makes your cheeks burn.

“Okay, okay, focus,” you say, stumbling over to your dresser. You pull out a small red Cartier box and turn to face him, holding it up like it’s the Holy Grail. His eyes widen immediately.

“Y/N… what did you do?”

You smile shyly, stepping closer and opening the box to reveal a sleek, gold Cartier bracelet. “Happy birthday, Jungwon. You deserve this—and so much more.”

His jaw drops as he stares at the bracelet, speechless. “This is… Y/N, this is too much.”

“Shh,” you cut him off, clasping the bracelet onto his wrist with unsteady hands. “You’re worth every penny.”

As soon as the bracelet is secure, you pull out your next gift: a silver chain with your name on it. “So you can take me everywhere,” you say with a giggle, draping it around his neck. His fingers brush over the pendant, and for a moment, you think he might cry.

“Y/N…”

“Wait, there’s one more,” you interrupt, suddenly serious. You grab a folded piece of paper from your nightstand—the letter you’d been agonizing over all day. “This one… this one’s really important.”

Jungwon looks at you with wide, curious eyes as he takes the paper from your hand. He sits down on the edge of the bed, carefully unfolding it. His expression softens as he begins to read, and you feel your heart racing in your chest.

Jungwon,

Where do I even start? There are a million things I could say about you, but I’ll try to keep this from turning into a novel.

This past year with you has been the best year of my life. I never thought I’d find someone who could see me the way you do—who could make me feel so safe, so wanted, so loved. But then you came along, and you’ve shown me over and over again what love really looks like.

You work so hard every day, and I see how much you carry on your shoulders. You give your heart to everyone—your members, your fans, your family—and you rarely stop to take care of yourself. But that’s where I come in, okay? I want to be the person who makes it easier for you to breathe. I want to be your home, your peace, your everything—because that’s what you are to me.

I know you don’t always feel like you deserve the good things in life, but you do, Jungwon. You deserve everything. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if you’ll let me.

Thank you for being you. For loving me. For letting me love you.

Happy birthday, my love.

Forever yours,

Y/N

By the time he finishes, his hands are trembling slightly, and he looks up at you with glossy eyes.

“You really did all of this for me?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion.

“Of course I did,” you reply softly, sitting beside him. “You deserve to feel loved and celebrated, Jungwon. You’ve given so much of yourself to everyone else. This year… I wanted to give something back to you.”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks. “I don’t even know what to say,” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Don’t say anything,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him deeply. “Just let me love you tonight.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy but filled with so much emotion that it almost overwhelmed you. “Y/N,” he said softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I don’t even know how to say this right, but… thank you.”

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat.

“For all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the party still raging on the other side of the door. “For tonight. For… for being you. You didn’t have to go this hard, but you did. You always do.”

You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze. “You deserve it,” you said simply, reaching up to cup his cheek.

His lips curved into a small smile as he leaned into your touch. “You make me feel like I deserve it,” he admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. “And that’s crazy to me. I never thought I’d get to feel this way about someone. I never thought someone would care about me like this.”

“Jungwon…”

“No, let me say this,” he interrupted gently, his thumb tracing small circles on your hip. “I suck at talking about my feelings, but I need you to know this. The past year has been insane—like, absolutely insane. I’ve been exhausted, overwhelmed, questioning if I can even keep up sometimes… but you? You make it all worth it. Every single hard day, every single doubt—it doesn’t matter because I have you.”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes as you listened to him pour his heart out. “Won…”

“And tonight?” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s only been my birthday for, what, three hours? And it’s already one of the best nights of my life. All because of you.”

You didn’t have words to respond, so you didn’t try. Instead, you pulled him down into a deep, slow kiss, pouring all your love into it.

When he pulled back, his expression had shifted slightly, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “You’re amazing, Y/N,” he said, his lips brushing against yours. “Can I show you how amazing you are? Please?”

You barely had time to process his words before his hands were slipping under the hem of your dress, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was somehow even more intense than the last.

“That’s what you want for your birthday?” Your eyes flutter as you feel his warm fingertips navigating themselves home, each tap driving you more insane and impatient.

“That’s what I want for my birthday.”

You want to let him have what he wants so bad, because you know after everything you did for him to tonight, he was going to fuck you until you couldn’t hear, see, or do anything other than cum and cry. But it’s his birthday. And he was too grateful and sweet to ask for your mouth—but you know deep down, his length is aching for the feeling of your warm, salivated mouth, going up and down on his length. He loves to see you on your knees, talking him in like the good girl you are, swallowing everything he has, all for you.

Your right hand sneaks around his throat seductively, making him swallow intensely. He loves when you show him who he belongs to, you can hear it in his erratic breathing, and see it in his eyes that shut tight the second he felt your hand. You press your lips to his once more, sensually grazing your tongue against bus own. “That’s so sweet, baby.” You peck, before leaving a trace of your lips from his lips, to his jaw, to his ear. “And I’m going to let you have what you want. But first,”

His breath hitches as your hand tightens around his throat, his eyes darkening with a mix of lust and submission. He loves this—loves when you take control, when you remind him who he belongs to. His cock twitches against your thigh, already hard and aching for your touch. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body trembles slightly under your grip.

"Please," he whispers, his voice rough and desperate. "I need you."

You smirk, pulling back just enough to see the hunger in his eyes. "You need me, huh?" you tease, your voice low and sultry. "What do you need, baby? Tell me."

He groans, his hips bucking involuntarily. "I need your mouth," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need to feel your lips around me, your tongue—fuck, Y/N, please."

You release your grip on his throat, trailing your fingers down his chest until you reach the waistband of his pants. You can feel the heat of his cock through the fabric, and you take your time, teasing him as you slowly undo the button and pull down the zipper. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps as you finally free his length, his cock springing free, thick and throbbing.

"Look at you," you murmur, wrapping your fingers around his shaft and giving him a slow, deliberate stroke. "So hard for me already. You really do need me, don't you?"

He nods, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as he tries to keep himself from thrusting into your hand. "Yes," he breathes. "I need you so bad."

You lean in, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock before you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head. He moans, his hips jerking as you take him deeper, your lips sliding down his length until he hits the back of your throat. You relax, letting him push even further, your nose pressing against his pelvis as you take all of him.

"Fuck," he groans, his hands tangling in your hair as you begin to move, your mouth working him with a rhythm that has him seeing stars. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, the taste of him driving you wild as you suck and lick, your tongue teasing the sensitive underside of his cock.

His moans grow louder, more desperate, and you know he's close. You pull back, letting his cock slip from your mouth with a wet pop, and look up at him with a wicked grin. "Not yet," you say, your voice dripping with mischief. "I want to make you beg for it."

He whimpers, his cock twitching as you stroke him slowly, your thumb brushing over the tip and spreading the precum that's gathered there. "Please," he begs, his voice breaking. "Please, Y/N, I need to cum. I need to feel you."

You smile, leaning in to take him into your mouth once more, your hand working the base of his cock as you suck him hard and fast. His hips buck, his fingers tightening in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth, his moans growing louder and more frantic. You can feel him pulsing, his cock swelling as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

"Y/N," he gasps, his voice strained. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

You hum around his cock, the vibrations sending him over the edge as he explodes in your mouth, his cum flooding your throat as you swallow every last drop. He moans your name, his body trembling as he rides out the waves of pleasure, his cock twitching as you continue to suck him through his orgasm.

The two of you sit there for a moment; you pressing soft kisses to his length while he takes deep breaths in attempt to get himself together. It’s amusing to see how riled up he already is, and he hasn’t even been inside you yet.

A seductive chuckle from Jungwon breaks your brief pause. “You love me, don’t you.” He slurs, still in disbelief of how amazing that just felt.

Your head leans to the left, your eyes filled with fake innocence as your cheek rests gently on his thigh. “You know I love you, baby.”

His head lifts, and his eyes—those eyes that always have a way of making you melt—are burning into you, speaking a thousand words without uttering a single one. The unspoken message is clear: You’re his, and he’s utterly obsessed with you. Every part of you, inside and out, and he always will be. You’re stuck with him

His gaze confirms what his tone already warned you—you weren’t in control anymore, and you wouldn’t be for the rest of the night. His eyes summon you to slowly rise from his thigh, crawling up his body, your eyes refusing to leave his.

9:00AM

The sun filters softly through the curtains as you stir awake, tangled in a mess of sheets and limbs. Jungwon is pressed against you, his arm draped lazily over your waist, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes steadily. His bare skin is warm against yours, and the memories of last night flicker through your mind like a reel of fireworks.

You smile to yourself, brushing a strand of hair from his face as you press a kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, baby,” you whisper. He doesn’t stir, just buries his face further into your neck, muttering something incoherent in his sleep.

Not wanting to disturb him, you carefully slide out of bed, grabbing his phone to FaceTime his parents. They answer on the second ring, their faces lighting up with joy.

“Y/N!” his mom greets warmly, her voice soft but full of excitement. “Where’s the birthday boy?”

You tilt the camera toward Jungwon, who’s still sprawled out in bed, looking utterly peaceful. “Still knocked out,” you chuckle. “But I wanted you to see him on his big day.”

His parents laugh, their love for him evident even through the screen. “Thank you for taking care of him,” his dad says sincerely.

“Of course,” you reply. “He’s my favorite person.”

After a short conversation, you promise to call them back later when Jungwon’s awake and hang up. You tiptoe out of the room, pulling on one of Jungwon’s oversized shirts and heading into the living room.

The sight waiting for you is nothing short of hilarious. Your apartment looks like the aftermath of a wild sleepover. Pillows and blankets are scattered everywhere, with guests passed out in various states of disarray. Sunoo is curled up on the couch with Taehyun, both of them snoring softly. Heeseung is somehow asleep in the kitchen, his head resting on the table, while Jake and Jay are sprawled out on the floor, their arms flung over each other like they’d just survived a battle.

You stifle a laugh, feeling a swell of pride for pulling off such a perfect night. Even though your apartment looks like a tornado hit it, it was all worth it.

You start picking up stray cups and plates, humming softly to yourself. As you’re gathering a pile of empty bottles, you feel a familiar warmth and weight of someone’s gaze on you.

Turning toward the hallway, you find Jungwon leaning against the wall, his hair messy, his bare chest illuminated by the soft morning light. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his signature bedroom look, and his lips curve into a sleepy, playful smile.

“You’re not seriously trying to clean up by yourself, are you?” he murmurs, his voice still rough from sleep.

You grin at him, setting down the bottles. “Someone has to, and everyone else is… well, indisposed.”

He pushes off the wall and walks toward you, his gaze softening with every step. When he reaches you, his hands slide around your waist, pulling you close. “Come back to bed,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. “We’ll clean everything up later. Together. But right now, I just want you.”

You bite your lip, looking up at him. “You sure? The place is a mess.”

“I don’t care,” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “Last night was perfect. You’re perfect. Let me spend my birthday morning with you, not cleaning up after everyone else.”

Your heart melts at his words, and you let him guide you back toward the bedroom. He pulls you under the covers, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close.

“Happy birthday, Jungwon,” you whisper again, your voice soft.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Best birthday ever, baby. And it’s only just started.”

And in that moment, with him holding you like you’re the only thing that matters, you know he means it.

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nariism · 1 year ago

Text

ೃ⁀➷ THIEF! ★

Based off this ask by @raphuna-nekomada !!

The first time, Neuvillette brushed it off as if nothing had happened.

He spent the entire morning looking for his dedicated Monday bow, black with silver intricacies that you personally picked out for him many years ago.

"Must be a sign from the universe not to go into work," you hummed from the bed, rolling over and inviting him back under the blanket. He hadn't indulged you on Monday, instead opting to use his Tuesday ribbon and huffing about how he would find the missing article later.

The second time it happened, he was suspicious.

Two days in a row his ribbon had gone missing, now his Wednesday ribbon had been used for Tuesday. It irked him, and while he had no other reason to suspect that you were the culprit, the way you beckoned him back to bed again flicked a switch in his mind.

Ultimately, he hadn't indulged you on Tuesday either.

The third time it happens, he saunters up to your side of the bed immediately.

"My love," he calls, and for a moment you think he hasn't caught you because he's lacking any sort of stern tone— the kind he would address Wriothesley with.

"Yes?" You peer up at him with a glimmer of mischief, clutching something to your chest. His eyes narrow and he kneels onto the bed beside you.

"Have you seen my ribbon?"

"I haven't."

"Are you sure? I'm certain I left it on the dresser last night."

"You must be imagining things, dearest."

You give him a sly, lazy smile and that's when he knows you're nothing but a terrible liar. He nearly scoffs in your face, leaning down closer so he can look at you with a hardening expression.

"And what exactly is your ploy here? Would you like me to wrestle it out of your hands?"

Your eyes widen in surprise for a moment before you laugh, clearly finding his suggestion humorous. "Would it keep you at home longer if you did?"

The gears turn in his head at your words, slow realization washing over him as you blink up innocently. (Feigning innocence, actually. Poorly.)

Ah, so that's what this is all about.

"You want me to stay home?"

A beat of silence. "And if I said yes?"

"You know my answer." Yet he hasn't pulled away, gotten off the bed, and left for work like he does every morning. In fact, you're pretty sure he's drawn a couple inches closer to you.

The fabric you stole from him suddenly wraps around the back of the neck and you rein him in until he's hovering just above you, arms and legs caging you in on either side.

"Got you," you sing quietly.

His gaze flickers down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "You got me," he repeats in faux defeat, swooping down to capture you in a kiss.

He starts to think that maybe a day off wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but he has more than one trial today and there is no one to fill his role in his absence.

Still, Neuvillette decides that he can come to a compromise if only to hold you like this before his busy day. Besides, if he didn't indulge you now this would never end.

"Ten more minutes."

"Ouch. Stingy."

He smothers you under his body so you'll stop talking.

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dwaekkicidal · 11 months ago

Text

Who are you calling a baby?

˚ʚJeongin x Fem!readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: You decide to join Stray Kids in teasing their maknae, your boyfriend, about being a "little baby." Let's just say he doesn't take very lightly to it.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 2.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, mean!dom Jeongin (🤭), rough sex, degradation (calls u stupid and 'dirty girl'), traffic light system brought up once, hair pulling (once), spanking, a sprinkle of dacryphilia, creampie, no protection (don't be silly, wrap ur willy also pee after sex), aftercare mentioned but not thoroughly, think that's all?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: I was actually gnawing at the bars of my enclosure trying not to make this into a "sir/daddy" thing (I should've. it prob would have been so much better bc i hate this grrr)

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

You laugh along with Chan as he and Seungmin sit beside you, the three of you watching as Hyunjin lets his cuteness aggression loose on Jeongin. Ruffling his hair and throwing his whole body weight onto the poor maknae. They're taking one last break from their dance practice, deciding to go a few more rounds before heading home.

"You'll always be our baby, Jeongin~" Han sings to Jeongin, to no particular rhythm. Jeongin laughs but desperately crawls out of Hyunjin's grasp, seeking protection from a spot on the floor between your legs.

"He's just a babyy! My lil' baby boy~'' You tease at him, smiling fondly before pinching his cheeks. He looks up at you and pouts cutely.

"I'm not a baby.."

"Yes you are! You're our cute little baby~ You prove my point when you make a face like that!" You laugh, brushing his hair back to make it more presentable after Hyunjin's attack before grabbing his chin and squishing his cheeks to prove your point even further. A few of the guys around you laugh and join in, poking and tickling at Jeongin while throwing in comments here and there about him being their Baby Bread, him laughing as he tries to protect himself from their attacks.

Eventually the 7 of them stand up and walk towards their spots on the floor. Your boyfriend sits on the floor a little longer, catching his breath as he looks up at you, staring into your eyes with a blank expression. Your eyes catch his and you tilt your head down at him, smiling. He stares for a few moments longer, expression unchanging, before quickly standing up and walking towards his dedicated spot. You think nothing of it and pull out your phone, mindlessly scrolling on a random choice of social media and getting comfortable.

After some time of hearing the same part of a song on repeat, you feel a pair of eyes burning into you. Looking up, you see the boys discussing a mistake somebody made. As you scan the boys, you meet your boyfriend's gaze. His eyes boring into you with another unreadable expression before he narrows his eyes towards you and turns back to the mirror, getting into position. You furrow your eyebrows at the back of his head, staring at him a little longer in hopes that he would turn around and explain himself. Is he upset about the teasing? Surely he knows I'm just messing around.. Once you realize that won't happen you sigh and shake your head, turning your attention to our phone once again. Assuming that he would get over this "fit" soon.

Not long after this, the guys all agree to call it a night. Jeongin opted to stay at your place for the weekend since you both had the next few days off. "I just want to spend some sweet time with my girlfriend," he explains to his hyungs. But the tightening grip on the back of your neck tells you otherwise.

The ride to your apartment was quiet aside from the radio. His hand never left your thigh and occasionally squeezed when he felt your gaze on him. Before you know it, the both of you are walking into your bedroom

"Are you okay? You've been super quiet for the last few hours." You ask, setting your bag down on the dresser and taking your (his) sweater off, landing it on the edge of the bed. You take a seat as he turns to you, his arms cross and his expression blank asides from the bump you see on his cheek. His tongue poking his cheek out in what you can only assume is annoyance or anger.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know.. you've been super quiet since the little teasing fiasco earlier.. Are you actually mad?" He raises an eyebrow at the way you enunciate the word 'actually,' but chooses to stay quiet and frowns down at you.

"Oh my gosh.. you're actually upset?" You laugh, standing up and taking a step forward so that you're in front of him "Baby...." You start as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you, planting a kiss on the corner of his lip before continuing, "You know I was just messing with you, it's all playful banter. You're my baby and I'm yours, there's nothing wrong with that. I'm sorry that you got upset." You giggle, showering him in kisses before you feel his arms unfold and reach behind you to embrace you.

Melting into his embrace, you litter more kisses on his face, waiting for a response. When you still don't get one, you pull away slightly to check on him only to be met with a smile. One that doesn't quite meet his eyes. One you thought was genuine until one of his hands trails into your hair, grabbing a tight handful, and tilting your head back forcibly. Your eyes screw shut as you wince, whimpering when you feel his hot breath on your neck.

He plants a few kisses silently before pulling back and smirking, loosening his grip so you look at him again. "What happened to all that laughing? Fox got your tongue?"

You pout and open your mouth to say something before he pushes you forcefully onto the bed. It catches you off guard and you take a second to try to even your breathing as he leans down, pushing your back to meet the bed and hovering over you. His lips ghost around your jawline and your neck, occasionally leaving wet kisses and small marks and rendering you breathless.

"C'mon baby... keep running your pretty little mouth.." He says, one of his hands by your head moving to slowly trail down your body until he meets your waist. He caresses your hips softly before continuing, "My hyungs aren't here to protect you anymore. So let's see if you still think you're oh so funny.." You let out a gargled noise as he bites down on your collarbone, moaning lightly as his hand moves to unbuckle your jeans, pulling them off you in one fell swoop as he pulls away from your neck.

When you don't say anything he lands an open handed smack on your thigh. "Why is the 'little boy' like me taking control? Use your words like the big girl that you swear you are."

You whimper at the sting on your thigh, but look him in the eyes and suddenly it's your turn to pout. "I said I was sorry baby, you know I didn't mean it like that." He lands another smack in the same area, not liking your response. He rubs the area to soothe the pain, but also as a warning of what's to come.

He leans forward and the other hand grabs your chin, making you keep eye contact, before leaning forward, "Let's see how far acting coy will get you. Sit up."

You feel your stomach tighten at his demandingness, but you listen and sit up on shaky arms. He pulls your shirt over your head before pulling off his own, throwing both behind him without looking.

"Color?" He asks, as he pushes your legs apart with his knee.

"Green" you whisper back, breathing heavily as he bends down to place a kiss on your stomach, pulling your underwear from under your ass and down your legs. You feel him smirk against your stomach, "Of course it is... dirty, dirty girl."

He trails small kisses down your stomach at an agonizingly slow pace. Eventually he reaches your pelvis, he swats at your thigh when your leg twitches in anticipation before meeting your eyes and speaking up again. "I want your eyes on me at all times. No closing your eyes, no looking away. Okay?"

You nod your head and watch as he shoots you a crooked smile, making sure to hold eye contact with you before leaning in and placing a kiss directly on your clit. Immediately two of his long fingers softly rub along your folds, gathering your wetness before you feel them slide against your gummy walls, quickly finding the spot that has your legs weak. He makes a good pace off the bat; not too fast and not too slow. Your eyes still stare into his, and you let out moans as he fingers you while licking his lips. He leans down further and places kisses on your inner thigh and uses his free hand to undo his jeans, pushing them down with his boxers just enough so his cock bounces out. He strokes himself a few times and tilts his head at you teasingly as he makes a particularly hard thrust. His gaze moves between your legs as he adds a third finger and frees his other hand to massage your clit.

With his piercing gaze not on your face, you quickly forget your previous promise to keep your eyes on him and you throw your head back. You let out a particularly loud moan as your eyes close and your legs shake, struggling to stay spread. He suddenly pulls his hands away from you and lands a harsh slap to your clit, pushing your legs apart when they clamp shut from the sudden sting. You squeal loudly in surprise and your head jolts forward, your eyes opening to look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and tears pricking your eyes.

"Do you not know how to listen? Or are you just trying to piss me off again?" He grumbles, frowning at you as he pushes your knees to your chest. He holds you in place as he lands another smack to your cunt. "I was gonna be nice about it and spoil you, but since you don't know how to follow basic instructions, we'll do this my way. Be good for fucking once and hold your legs for me, yeah?" He spits out, pulling his hands away when you shakily hug the backs of your knees. He rubs his tip against your folds repeatedly before dipping just the tip in.

" 'M sorry-yyyy!" You try saying before he cuts you off and bottoms out. He groans and leans forward, towering over you and placing his hands beside your head, planting himself above you. He pulls out all the way to the tip before locking eyes with you and smiling smugly at you, "Yeah? You're sorry? My pretty little baby is sorry?" When you open your mouth to respond he suddenly thrusts all the way into the hilt, pulling a loud moan from your lips as you furrow your eyebrows, closing your eyes yet again.

"Aww, baby... What am I gonna do with you.. Too cock-dumb to follow basic instructions…” he laughs at you before finding a fast pace, one that has you seeing stars as he pounds into you repeatedly. The angle you're in makes him hit all the right angles constantly while still making him go so deep. So much so that you feel him hit your cervix a few times, making you whimper as you look up at him with teary eyes.

You moan out his name as your grip on your legs tighten, already feeling so close after cumming not long ago.

"Don't worry baby, sit there nice and pretty for me and I'll take care of you. I'll let it slide just this once and 'll fuck you nice and stupid, okay? Though.. I'm not so sure it will be any different than how stupid you normally are?"

"Pleaseee" You whine out, a few tears finally falling at the mix of his words and the constant stimulation. He laughs at you and moves one of his hands to your mouth, tapping your lips to let him in. You open your mouth enough so that his thumb enters your mouth, and you knowingly suck on his fingers. Once he deems it wet enough he pulls his thumb out and moves it to where you two meet, messily rub circles onto your clit.

"Jeongin... 's so goodd" You cry out at the extra stimulation, nails digging further into your legs.

He leans back and his free hand reaches forward to smear your tears into your cheek, "Stop crying baby, you can take it. mmmmmm.. You will take it. You owe me for being such a bitch earlier and trying to embarrass me in front of my hyungs."

You moan loudly and throw your head back, tilting it slightly to look up at him, "Fffuck baby! I.. I promise, I swear I didn't mean it like-" Before you can finish he grabs your face and pulls you forward, "C'mon, babe, I know you can make up a better excuse than that. Or are you too cock-dumb to use your pretty little head? Hm??" He teases, ending his sentence with another slap to your clit, one that makes you loosen your hold on your legs.

Your eyes gloss over and he smirks, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss to your cheek before leaning back and continuing his brutal pace. When he feels you grip him stronger he knows you're close and he pushes further, in order to get you there faster. "You gonna come? Huh, pretty little thing?" You nod and moan mindlessly as you look up at him, mumbling out mindless pleads before he pushes your knees into your chest again and chases both of your highs.

"Then cum, stupid baby. Milk me dry, okay? Be a good girl baby." He says out of breath, as he leans forward and pulls you into a kiss. One of his hands comes down on your ass and it's enough to send you over the edge. You're squeezing him like a vice and it's enough for him to finish next. He breaks the kiss to groan, pulling away to stare where the two of you meet, watching his cum get fucked out of you with each thrust. Once he rides out both of your highs, he leans forward to leave hickeys in your collarbone.

After a short time, he pulls out slowly and softly lays your legs against the bed. You sigh at the empty feeling, but are thankful that your legs can stretch out.

"F-Fffuck.. Jeonginnn'' You whine, feeling even more cum drip out of you. He laughs and leans forward to pull you into a kiss, softly smudging his cum along your folds with his fingers before leaving a final, much softer, slap. He leaves soft kisses all over your face as you catch your breath, mumbling an 'I'll be right back' before disappearing into your bathroom. You faintly hear the water running and he quickly returns, wiping you down with a cloth that was soaked with warm water. You finally catch your breath e as he throws the cloth onto the pile of your clothes from earlier, deciding to put them in the hamper later.

You look up at him and give him a sex-drunk smile, giggling as he lays next to you before pulling you into his side. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest one of your legs on his hip, and he massages it to sooth the muscles as his other hand draws circles into your back. He holds eye contact with you for a moment before pulling you into a kiss.

"You okay baby?" He asks, pulling away to smother your face in kisses as he gives you time to respond.

"Amazing, actually... " You mumble out, pulling him in for another kiss.

"Good... Rest up baby, you're gonna need it." He says between kisses and lands a smack to your ass. He laughs in your face as you look at him with furrowed eyebrows and a frown. He grinds against your core and you realize that he's hard again, making your eyes widen a little.

"Oh, my love.... you thought we were done?"

#stray kids smut #skz smut #jeongin x reader #jeongin smut #jeongin imagines #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin smut #yang jeongin imagines #i.n x reader #i.n smut #i.n imagines #sian’s writing

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