#i made a few things to post while waiting for asks and this was one of them

[undertalecookingwithkindness]

Happy Pride from The Eclipse! (A Short Update Post) (Art by @nikazio)

Happy Pride Month everyone! (We barely managed to make it in time...)

So! It's been a while, huh. As we predicted, the drop of deltarune sent development out the window for a week or two, but since then we've gotten back into the swing of things.

This update will be short, as we're saving the big things to update you all on for the next update. So, we'll only be going through a few things.

First off! Scoring implementation is (mostly) complete now! This means that, on paper, cooking is complete and functional!

I say mostly because the major thing we are missing is tracking score in each individual minigame. This will be where most of our programming power will be diverted to for the next month so that we can properly test and balance cooking, alongside implementing new minigames and fixing old ones. We're not out of the woods yet, but we've made tremendous progress!

The next major thing to update you all on:

Remember CORE Square? We had a whole update post about it a few months ago! Well, shortly after that post, the team decided that the CORE Square needed a revamp! So for the past few months, we've been redesigning the CORE Square, adding extra areas, and updating the layout! This progress is still ongoing, and it's a large undertaking being worked on by most of our spriters and artists. Don't worry though, everything you loved about the old CORE Square is still there, just now prettier, bigger and more logically laid out than before! We can't wait to show you the new version when it's ready!

Finally, the most minor of updates:

There's a new version of Grillby (the song)! Check it out!

Many songs are currently getting cleaned up by our composers, and we've got a lot of other songs that we have ready that we're hoping to show you when you get to play the game when the demo releases later this year. Because of this, don't expect us to reveal many new tracks until then, though we'll keep you updated on updates to already revealed songs!

We'd also like to remind our Tumblr followers that our ask box is always open if you want to send a letter to The Eclipse!

That's about everything we had to say for today-

Wait! One more thing! We also want to introduce Wood Man (https://youtube.com/@glitchphoenix2242) as our newest team member and programmer!

Okay, NOW that's everything. Keep an eye, ear and mouth out for us over the next month or so, hopefully we'll have the big update post and surprise ready by then. Until then, enjoy what little remains of pride month left to enjoy.

(Art by @s0ckh3adstudios)

Kind Regards,

The Eclipse.

[where-is-the-quantum-moon]

if we’ve got the quantum moon in the portal 2 end field, what about the quantum moon in the portal 2 end boss fight instead of the regular moon?

The Quantum Moon is above Wheatley's stasis chamber!

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than a full minute

Werewolves need help but everyone else trying to help them is STUPID and WRONG so I did it better. You're welcome

Also an artifact that I just had the idea for and kinda sorta supports werewolves if you squint so I gave it Innistrad flavor and threw it in the batch. So there, unique support cards that aid werewolves in their transforming endevors without defaulting to the laziest possible-

"Why not just give werewolves flash?"

FUCKING FINE

You want flash so bad you can spend 3 mana on it

[miyaz6ki]

☆ wearing their clothes

synopsis. seeing s/o wearing their clothes for the first time :) (like shirts/sweatshirts or jackets/coats :pensive:)

the blade has spoken. erm... first draft being posted... i feel a little nervous after changing from reshinless to the user i use everywhere..

pairings. albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, diluc, neuvillette, kinich, xiao, dainsleif, wanderer

albedo felt himself heating up already. the red that crept up his neck was noticeable as you looked up. you were wearing his lab coat, and all cozy in the bed you both share.

"you're.. wearing.. my.." - "oh.. wow."

he had just come back from work and he couldn't wait to cuddle with you in bed, yet it was as if he wouldn't mind conducting another experiment with his new 'assistant' by his side <3

alhaitham when he suddenly walks into the empty home, tired of the work he's done for only archons knows how long he had been working. he just wanted to come home and tell you about all the things he's been- oh.

he was stunned. star struck. fuck. were you really wearing his sweater right now? the grayhead felt himself simply smirk at he adorable sight of you simply sleeping on the couch. a dinner made just for him, along with dessert on the side (ifykyk)

"maybe i'll tell you when i wake up, love."

capitano who simply lets out a chuckle, one out of love. he loves how large his coat looked on you. he handed it to you after going out for a while, asking you to simply hang it beside his desk. yet you had better ideas. and by better ideas? is to wear it of course!

"well what do we have here? you're so adorable my love."

he tucks strands of your hair behind your ear. adoring the way you tried your best not to fall over as you tried to spin. this was enough to keep you warm though. not to mention how he was already carrying you bridal style to bed.

childe laughs, seeing you try on one of his shirts, looking at yourself in the mirror before turning to see him.

baby, you look amazing! how about another spin?

even when you simply scoffed, he loved how you looked right now. fuck, he could feel himself reddening already. he definitely will let you have full access to his wardrobe. just take it all like how you took his heart too.

wriothesley just put his jacket over you to keep you from being wet while watching the melusines play with sigewinne, yet right now he was more focused on how much he admired your figure in his clothes. his jacket.

"what's wrong?" "...nothing. you look amazing today, yk that?"

he chuckled at your behavior, unaware of your own attractiveness as you told them to stop running around the fountain with the wetness of the floor spreading. you couldn't help but ease up and laugh as well.

a certainly crazy day at the court of justice- neuvillette was finally finishing up the last few cases, not to mention how absurd some of the cases were.

not realizing he ended up taking your jacket instead of his home, only realizing it when the melusines mention how different it look from his usual one. oh man. there you were. trying on his coat that just seemed a little too big (or small) on you. gosh were you cute.. what do you mean his ears are red?!

"i.. it looks better on you than me, doesn it?"

dainsleif who was there immediately as soon as the red wine was spilled onto your outfit. quick to spring into acting, he throws his jacket over it just as fast. scolding the person who jealously just oh-so accidentally ruined your outfit tonight purely because they wanted your significant other? oh please he wasn't having any of that!

but by the time his anger went away, he didn't realize how.. alluring you looked.. in something he wore all the time. it definitely suited you better, only noticing after he finally parked the car. he definitely had to give you more of his clothes.

"you.. uh.. i.. well.. you're beautiful. you know, you're welcome to keep that."

diluc's face was turning as red as his hair seeing how you quietly snored, sound asleep in his- no, your shared bed. seeing how closely you held his coat to your chest, as well as the shirt you wore.

"...I don't.. deserve you."

he simply took his boots off, letting his arms snake you close, one of his hands trailing up to your scalp, calmly stroking your head as he feels you smile into his chest. this was life.

kinich who always had an interesting wardrobe, you really just wanted to see how comfy his clothes were if he can swing back and forth that far!

and in which you did, spinning and looking at yourself in the mirror in his clothing. you loved it even more from how it smelled just like him too <3

"someone's having fun aren't they?"

you felt yourself blush out of embarassment of getting caught. but before you could apologize, he already had his lips on yours.

when xiao decides it'd be a good idea to give you a hoodie just to realize you never gave it back. is it just.. yours now?

and to find out the answer? yes! it is! and he finds out in the cutest way possible—by finding you sleeping soundly and wearing it all the same. almost indifferent about it as if it was normal.

"you okay?" "i-i've been looking for this y-you know.."

he only flushed more when you tell him you missed him so much.

finally coming home, wanderer, or scaramouche just wanted to cuddle. no words shared. just to hold you in his arms.

but maybe it was good that didn't happen. because now he was looking at the love of his life, and eating the food they made him. knowing how they made it with the knowledge on how he can't really taste anything. not to mention you were wearing.. that sweatshirt he lent you.

you.. look.. good.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[acorviart]

everyone should attempt an artisan craft at some point in their life because it would cut down the number of comments questioning why handmade goods like ceramics or textile craft or woodworking are so expensive

and this is an unrealistic expectation, but I think the attempt should include seeing through to the end at least one "finished" item, no matter how clumsy or lumpy your first attempts might be. like to me, there's a huge difference in perspective between attempting to learn how to crochet or throw a pot for a few days, acknowledging that it's harder than it looks and giving up, versus committing to finishing that scarf or clay pot you started and working on it for weeks while you painstakingly learn from your mistakes and grow attached to your project while also simultaneously hating it.

once you finish the latter, your perspective changes from "why does this crocheted blanket cost $200" to "holy shit I can't believe they're charging $200 for this crocheted blanket instead of $2000" because you may have known crocheting is hard, you may have easily agreed with the idea that "handmade goods take time and effort" even before attempting a craft, but now you know firsthand the absolute time sink it takes to make things. like yeah dude, that one item took you 2 months to make and probably wasn't even an ultra complex item if it was the first thing you made, now imagine attaching an hourly wage to that time to calculate the cost (and this is ignoring every nuance of the artistic element and master crafters being able to work faster/charge higher because of their years and years of experience)

anyway this rant has been motivated by a comment I saw on someone else's ceramic post asking why a mug was $60 and they understand it's handmade but $60 just seems overpriced, and bro do you know how long ceramics take to make. that mug probably took at minimum 3 weeks between how long it takes to throw the mug, dry partially, trim the mug, dry fully, bisque fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, sand and paint and glaze, glaze fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, take product photography of the mug, write description and list the mug online for sale, im not even including the skill needed to complete all these steps without the mug literally exploding or collapsing while also making it an appealing piece of art, aaaaaaaaaaaaa

[anylady-fics]

First | Mingi x F Reader

Cross posted on ao3

Summary: You just wanted to lose your virginity — no drama, no strings attached. What you didn’t expect was for your friend Mingi to make it that good. One wild night, a lot of firsts, and maybe… just maybe, a reason to do it all over again.

WC: 10.5k

⚠️ warnings: smut, first times, virgin!reader, oral sex (f/m), vaginal sex, dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink, voice kink (kinda), big dick Mingi (canon, right?)

An: sorry about the wc, I just really like Mingi 🫠

Ⴡ Masterlist

You got dumped again. Yeah, seriously. At this point, it was getting old. But no matter how frustrating it was, you knew exactly what the problem was, and it wasn’t something you could just fix overnight.

You were… inexperienced.

Going to college after a lifetime of being smothered by overprotective parents meant they had successfully sent you off as a virgin. And for a while, that was fine. It wasn’t a big deal—until people started acting like you were some kind of loser just because you hadn’t fucked anyone yet.

And the guys? Every single one you tried dating was the same. Either they wanted to get into your pants before the first drink was even finished, or they pretended to be patient—like they weren’t just waiting for the moment you’d cave. You might be inexperienced, but you weren’t stupid. And as much as you wanted to get it over with, you couldn’t do it with just anyone.

But after getting dumped for the third time in two months, you decided to do something about it. Something had to change. You wished you’d just handled it back in high school like everyone else, but that ship had sailed.

Your friends told you to just ask one of your guy friends to help you out. Which sounded easy enough… until you actually pictured doing it, and embarrassment nearly killed you on the spot.

Still, if you wanted to lose your virginity, your options were limited. The random guys you’d been trying to date were too impatient, too pushy, and way too stupid.

Which meant your only real option was actually asking a friend. But which one? 

You had a few options, but you needed someone who wouldn’t laugh in your face or make things weird. Someone who’d get that this was just a favor, not a relationship.

Okay. That made things a little easier.

Maybe Mingi? You’d been friends for years, you went to the same college now, and he was definitely experienced enough to help. Plus, he already knew you were a virgin, so at least you wouldn’t have to explain that part.

But how were you supposed to ask him?

Like… “Hey, I need someone to fuck me so I can finally lose my virginity and date like a normal person”?

Yeah. That didn’t sound awkward at all. Well, you would have to try. Maybe it would be less awkward if you could text him…

You: Hey! You good? Look… I kinda need to talk to you about something. 

Mingi: Hey, pretty. Long time since we talked, wanna hang out at that coffee place you like? 

You: Sure, we can meet there after class. Byeee, see ya.

Well, if you couldn’t even type the question, saying it out loud was going to be a nightmare. But you had to try. No backing out now.

After class, you went straight to the coffee shop and ordered your usual before Mingi arrived. The second you saw him walk through the door, your stomach dropped, a cold, nervous, oh-god-what-am-I-doing panic settling in. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

“Hey! Still buried in your books, nerd?”

“Yeah, and it’s been causing me some problems.” Mainly the one you were about to dump on him. “What about you? Still hitting up every party?”

“Not as much. Kinda got tired of it.”

That… was a surprise.

“Oh. Right.”

He ordered his drink, then leaned on the table, watching you. “So… what did you wanna talk about?”

Okay. You can do it.

“Uh… so… I don’t even know how to say this, Mingi.” You took a slow sip of your way too large Americano, trying to find the right words. “I mean, it might be a lot to ask, but I’m kinda out of options.”

He tilted his head, waiting.

“I got dumped again yesterday. And look, I know these guys are assholes and not worth my time, but it keeps happening because I’m a virgin. And I feel like… it’s really getting in my way, you know?”

“Uh… I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t.” You groaned, shifting in your seat. “Okay, what I’m asking… it’s just a favor, that’s all. I really want to lose my virginity, and I really don’t want it to be with those idiots I’ve been dating.”

Mingi blinked. Then blinked again.

“You’re asking me… to take your virginity?” His eyebrows shot up, his expression somewhere between shock and did I hear that right? “…Is that what’s happening here?”

“Yeah… I mean…” You trailed off, shifting uncomfortably.

Mingi still looked shocked, but you could tell—this whole situation was doing wonders for his already massive ego.

“I gotta ask… why me?” He leaned back slightly, arms crossed, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “You have a few friends.”

You sighed.

“You already know I’m a virgin. And you also know I’m not an idiot.” You glanced down at your drink, feeling your face heat up. “We’ve been friends for years, and I don’t know… I trust you.”

Mingi didn’t say anything right away, and the silence made your stomach twist.

“But if this is too much,” you added quickly, forcing a laugh, “just forget I ever said anything. And then I’ll dig a hole in the ground and hide from you for the rest of my life.”

“Relax, I was just curious,” Mingi said, holding back a grin. “Of course, I can help you with that. I think any guy in the world would.” 

You rolled your eyes. His ego was thriving.

“But,” he continued, tilting his head again, making that cute puppy face at you “I gotta ask… how far have you actually gone?”

You exhaled sharply. Alright. You can do this. You weren’t exactly the type to chat about your sex life — or lack thereof — but considering you’d just asked Mingi to take your virginity, honesty was kinda mandatory at this point.

“Huh… I…”

“Oral? Fingering?” He had zero shame. Which, good for him. Terrible for you.

You cleared your throat.

“No. And… yes.”

“And did you ever… you know, finish from it?”

“Nope. Only by myself.”

That bit of information seemed to stir something in him. His expression flickered between offended and genuinely shocked.

“Damn. So the guys were really that bad, huh?” He shook his head, exhaling like this was personally upsetting. “Yeah, okay. We’re definitely not jumping straight to it, that’d be traumatizing.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you suggesting…?”

“That we take it step by step.” He leaned in slightly, voice a little lower, a little slower. “I can’t just… do it. I mean, it’s already a painful experience for most girls, and it’d be a hell of a lot easier for you if we… prepped first.”

You were already blushing because of his lower voice. It got worse.

“Oh…OH…”

“Yeah. Well, that’s my one condition if I’m gonna help you.”

“Okay… I guess.” You swallowed, fingers tightening around your cup. “So, uh… when do we start?”

Mingi shrugged, finishing his coffee.

“You can come over tonight if you want. My roommate’s out.”

He set his cup down and looked at you expectantly. You, on the other hand, were frozen.

That soon? 

You did want to get this over with. But you’d kinda imagined having some time to mentally prepare. Then again… maybe not thinking too much about it was the better option. If you gave yourself too much time, you might just chicken out entirely.

“Okay. So…”

“We can go now,” Mingi said, already standing up. “It’s getting dark anyway.” He waited for you to do the same, then tilted his head before asking you. “You’re really sure about this?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I can ask you to stop anytime, right?”

“Of course.”

You nodded, but your mind was already spinning. You couldn’t stop thinking about what you were about to do — and who you were about to do it with. But the truth was, you had no idea what was actually going to happen. Mingi had been clear, this wasn’t going to be just jumping into it.

So… were you two just going to make out and see where it led?

Jesus. Just thinking about that made your stomach flip.

You hadn’t really considered how weird this could get, but for some reason, you still felt safe about it. Mingi was a lot of things, kind of a fuckboy, sure, but he wasn’t a liar. If something felt off, he’d tell you. You just knew that.

As soon as you got to his place, Mingi gestured for you to sit on the couch before heading to the kitchen. A moment later, he came back with two cans of beer, handing you one. The silence was already killing you.

“Drink,” he said, popping open his can. “Might help you relax. You’re really tense.”

“Yeah, I am… thanks.” You exhaled, cracking yours open. “I was just about to ask for one.”

Mingi smirked before sinking into the couch beside you. “So… tell me more about these guys you dated. They’re really dumping you just because you’re a virgin?”

“Yeah… I mean, they always try to get in my pants, and when I don’t let them, they just… lose interest.” You shrugged, taking a sip. “I don’t even always tell them I’m a virgin. I don’t need that getting around and people making fun of me, you know? So I just let them assume I’m, like, frigid or something.”

“They’re just assholes.” He paused, tilting his head. “But, like… your virginity… it’s not something important to you?”

“Not exactly…” You sighed, swirling the beer in your can. “I just wish I’d gotten over it when I was younger, like all my friends did. But you know my parents.”

Mingi nodded. He definitely knew.

“I just couldn’t do it with some random guy,” you continued. “That would’ve been awful.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, watching you. “I get that.”

“And I know you’re very experienced, so…”

Mingi chuckled, finishing off his beer and setting the empty can on the coffee table.

“I wouldn’t say very… Just… enough.”

Oh. His voice. The way he looked at you.

There it was.

That shift in the air, the kind of tension you could feel settling between you. You took a slow, deep breath, then placed your empty can next to his.

“If you say so…”

“So… whenever you’re ready, pretty.”

Your stomach flipped again.

“Can we… kiss?”

Mingi’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. That’d be a great start. I told you… I wanna take things slow.”

You were already sitting close, so all it took was him leaning in, a slight tilt of his head, a shift in the air between you. You mirrored him, your breath catching just before your lips met.

Soft. Damn, his lips were soft… and so plump.

So far, nothing too unfamiliar. You let yourself ease into it, testing the feel of him. But then his tongue brushed over your lips before slipping into your mouth, meeting yours in a slow, teasing slide. And that… that sent a rush of heat straight through you.

In just seconds, that shy kiss turned into something messy, wet, hot, needy. Damn it. You could feel the effect between your legs, heat pooling inside your panties. And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, Mingi chuckled, that deep, lazy sound vibrating against your skin as he trailed kisses down your chin, your neck. 

“How you feeling?” he murmured against your throat, his voice low, teasing.

“G-good…”

His lips curved against your skin. “Hm… you’re pressing your thighs together.” Another kiss, right under your jaw. “Already horny?”

God. You swallowed hard. Why were you suddenly so shy?

“Uh… yes.” 

Mingi hummed like he expected that answer. 

“Ever dry-humped someone before?”

“No… never.”

Another smirk, he was such a tease… and then, two slow taps against his thigh.

“Come here. Sit on my lap.”

You hesitated for half a second before obeying, standing up just to settle yourself over him. His thighs… fuck. Thick. Comfortable. Solid under you. And even through his jeans, you could feel him. He was hard, very. 

“Good girl.” Those words hit you in a very specific way…

Your hands rested on his broad shoulders as you kissed him again. Embarrassment still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind, but it was quickly drowned out by the heat pooling deep in your core. You let your body take over, responding to him — the kissing, the touching… the way his big hands gripped your waist, strong and steady.

“Come on, baby. Grind on me.”

Oh, fuck.

You felt those words straight between your legs, a sharp pulse of need making you clench so hard you whimpered against his lips.

Mingi groaned, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, guiding you into motion, urging you to move against him. Against his hard cock pressing through his jeans. Against his thick thighs.

“Just like that…” The delicious friction sent sparks up your spine, and soon enough, you were moving all on your own, chasing more of it. “Don’t stop.”

“Mingi… fuck!”

You ground down harder, a little faster, just enough to push you right over the edge. The orgasm hit you in waves, leaving you shivering and whimpering in his lap as his hands held you steady. He murmured soft praises, his voice thick with something dangerous, something that made your toes curl. Wow, that was really fast.

And all you could think was: Holy shit! You just had the best orgasm of your life. From grinding on your friend. And you didn’t know how you were supposed to feel about that, but you were just fine for now.

“So… was it good?” Mingi chuckled against your neck, his lips trailing soft, teasing kisses back up to your mouth. “You good?”

“Yeah, but… I feel… uh…” You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, to think. “I don’t know. I just came, but I’m still…”

Needy. You didn’t have to say.

His lips curled into a smirk, and you didn’t even know you like that pretty face of him that much.  

“We can keep going if you want to.”

“What would be the next step? Since you wanna take things slow.”

“Hm…” He tilted his head, considering. “Maybe I can make you feel good with my fingers. If you’re okay with that.”

Your brain short-circuited for a second. Because fuck. Your panties were soaked, embarrassingly wet just from kissing and grinding against him. But you were still throbbing, still desperate for more.

So you just… nodded. 

 “Yeah… it’s fine.”

Still perched on his lap, you hesitated before shifting off him, kneeling on the couch beside him. Your legs felt shaky, but not from exhaustion, no. It was pure anticipation.

Mingi followed, sliding down to kneel on the floor in front of you, his eyes dark and hungry as he leaned in.

“You want me to take your shorts off, or you wanna do it yourself?” He murmured the words against your lips, stealing a quick peck before trailing his fingers down to the waistband of your shorts.

“Y-you can do it…”

His touch was slow, deliberate, as he unbuttoned your shorts and slid them down, pushing them aside like they were nothing.

Then, his hands settled on your hips, his thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Wanna keep the panties on?” His voice was low, husky. “I can still make you feel good like this, if you’re not ready to take them off.”

You should’ve been embarrassed. Should’ve felt shy about the way he was staring at you, at your pussy, taking in the obvious wet stain darkening the fabric.

But you weren’t.

Because he looked wrecked just from seeing you like this. And you loved that, really turned you on even more.

“...It’s okay,” you whispered. “You can take them off too. I mean… there’s no point feeling shy now, right?” Your breath hitched. “You’re gonna see my pussy anyway…”

“Hm…” He chuckled at your words, fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. “So… you told me you’ve been fingered before, right? How was it for you?”

You hesitated for a second before exhaling, remembering the times you let that happen.

“It was always rushed. Like… in the backseat of a car, or some dark corner in a club. Sometimes it just felt uncomfortable. Sometimes a little painful…”

Mingi hummed, his fingers slipping lower, tracing light patterns over the fabric.

“So has anyone actually seen this pretty pussy, baby?” His voice had dropped, thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “Am I really the first?”

Your breath hitched as he hooked his fingers under the elastic, dragging your panties down slowly, revealing your mound first, then the rest as you lifted your hips just enough to help him.

“Yes… you are.”

“Fuck.” His exhale was heavy, like he was struggling. His hands smoothed over your bare thighs, slow and teasing, while you instinctively pressed your legs together. You had just told him there was no point in feeling shy, but still… his eyes on you like that made your skin burn. Mingi let out a soft, amused hum, his lower voice killing you. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, baby.” His thumbs brushed gently along the inside of your thighs. “But I need you to talk to me, okay? I don’t want you to feel any pain.”

You nodded, but he wasn’t done.

“Good girl.” He said that again, making you shiver once more at his words. His lips curled into something dangerously soft, dangerously sweet. “Now… spread your legs for me.” His voice was just sinful, God. “Let me see you.”

Even with a lingering trace of shyness, you spread your legs for him. Mingi let out a sound that looked like a moan, his eyes locked onto your glistening pussy like he was savoring the sight. You knew you were dripping, could feel it pooling beneath you, and the thought alone made you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for his touch.

“Nah-ah.” His voice was pure, silken dominance. A soft kiss landed on your thigh, his warm palm resting against your belly. “Eyes on me, baby. I wanna see every little reaction. So behave, and look at me while I touch you, okay?”

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, blinking up at him, cheeks burning under the weight of his gaze.

Mingi started slow, his fingers first trailing over your mound, teasing, barely there, making you ache for more. Then, with the lightest pressure, he dipped lower, parting your folds, gathering your slick on his fingertips. You whimpered when he finally brushed over your clit, already swollen, already throbbing for him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet…” His voice was rougher now, and when he pressed down on your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles, your body reacted instantly. Your thighs threatened to snap shut, but his free hand kept you open.

“Talk to me, baby.” He smirked at you, making your cheeks burn again. “You like it when I touch you here?”

“Y-yes… feels so good, Mingi…” Your voice was barely more than a breathy moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly. God, what was this man doing to you?

“Good…” He kept up the slow, torturous rhythm, circling, sliding, making sure you felt every second of it. And then he smirked again, eyes flickering down between your legs. “I can see you clenching…” His fingers teased lower, brushing over your dripping hole, but never pushing in. “You want a finger inside this pretty pussy, huh?”

“Yes… please.”

You’d never felt like this before. Sure, you’d touched yourself before — your fingers, the desperate grind against your pillow. But this? Craving someone else's touch this badly? That was new.

“Yeah?” Mingi’s voice was warm, teasing, his breath fanning against your skin. “Alright, baby. Gonna put it in now. Tell me if it hurts, I’ll stop right away.”

He played with your clit for a second longer, making you squirm, before twisting his wrist and easing his middle finger inside you. He slid in easily — too easily — because you were already so wet, dripping onto his palm.

“Fuck…” He exhaled, watching the way you clenched around him, his voice thick with something almost reverent. “You’re clenching around my finger so tight, baby. Tell me how it feels.”

“Hm… it’s okay. No pain…” Your words were soft, airy, but your body was already responding to him, hips shifting just the slightest bit, searching for more.

“Yeah?” He started moving, slow thrusts, just the tip at first, then deeper, dragging against your walls in slow, deliberate strokes. “You like it like this? Or maybe…” He let his finger sink all the way in, curling it just right, hitting somewhere entirely new inside you.

A moan ripped from your throat before you could stop it. 

Mingi chuckled, clearly pleased. “I think I have my answer… Looks like I just found your G-spot.”

“It’s… embarrassing that I couldn’t find it myself…”

“Mm, it’s fine, baby…” His tone was honeyed sin, smooth and coaxing. “It’s kinda deep, see?” He pushed in again, curling that single finger right against the spot, making your body jolt. “Here… this spongy little place… this is where you’re most sensitive inside.”

Another slow press, another deliberate curl of his finger, sending a shudder down your spine, leaving you gasping.

“Feels… different…”

“A good different? Or do you want me to stop?”

“No… keep going. It’s good… really good…”

“Mm…” He smirked, his free hand sliding down to find your clit, circling it in slow, teasing motions while his finger pressed against that spot inside you over and over again. “Like this, baby? Feels good?”

“Yes…” Your voice was breathy, almost desperate. It felt too good — like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You had no idea your body could respond like this, that just one finger could unravel you so easily. But now you knew. And you needed more. “Don’t stop…”

Mingi hummed in approval, his movements shifting, pressing into your G-spot with more precision, rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pressure. It was overwhelming, the pleasure washing over you in such an intense way it left you breathless. Your hips had a mind of their own now, rolling into his touch, grinding against his hand as you chased the high building inside you.

“That’s it, baby…” His voice was low, dripping with praise. “Keep riding my fingers like that… fuck, you look so pretty like this…”

You felt something building inside you—something different. A weird kind of pressure you’d never felt during an orgasm before. It made you panic a little.

“Mingi… feels weird.” But it still felt good, so you didn’t stop. You kept grinding against his hand, chasing the high.

“Weird how? Talk to me.”

“Like I’m gonna… pee…” you admitted, your voice small, embarrassed.

“Mmh…” He didn’t sound the least bit bothered. “Wanna try letting go, baby? You might squirt if you do. It’ll feel so good…”

But you couldn’t. The sensation was too intense, too unfamiliar. And the idea of actually doing that in front of him made your whole body tense up.

“I can’t… I just wanna cum, please… make me cum…”

He kissed your thigh again, soft and reassuring, his finger still buried deep inside you. But now his focus shifted. His other hand is working your clit in that perfect way. God, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Come on, baby… cum on my fingers. Keep moving, just like that…”

You did. And it hit you hard. Your orgasm crashed over you, stealing your breath, making your legs tremble uncontrollably. You couldn’t even speak, so you just moaned and whimpered as he worked you through it, drawing it out until you were spent.

Then he slowly pulled his finger out and, without breaking eye contact, brought it to his mouth and licked it clean. The sight alone made your pussy clench again.

“You taste so fucking good…”

You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back a moan, because fuck. He wasn’t even touching you anymore.

“So…” Mingi sat back down beside you, his tone playful. “How was it for you?”

You let out a breathy laugh, still recovering. “That was amazing… thank you. Uh—” your hand moved to his thigh, remembering how you’d been grinding on it minutes ago, “—want me to return the favor?”

“Not today, pretty. Tonight was all about figuring out what you like.”

“Well, mission accomplished.”

“Next time we can try adding another finger… if you’re up for it. Maybe I could eat you out, too.”

“You really wanna do that?”

He looked at you like you were crazy. 

“What kind of question is that?” His eyes dropped briefly to your bare skin. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know… Some guys just don’t like giving head, I guess.”

“Straight guys? I don’t think I know anyone like that. Shit… were your exes that kind of loser?”

“One of them… maybe two.”

“Yeah, they probably didn’t like girls to begin with.” He laughed, shaking his head. “But me? I love eating pussy. You’re so damn responsive… so sensitive. Probably ‘cause you’re a virgin. Honestly, I had a lot of fun today.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is!” He gave you one of his cutest smiles, like he wasn’t just talking about eating you out a minute ago.

“Wanna crash here or want me to take you home?”

“I don’t know… I think I could stay on your couch.”

“Damn, do you think I’m an asshole or something?” He laughed, but it had a bit of a bitter edge to it. “You can use my bed. I mean, if you want, we can share. It’s big, and I don’t mind. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll take the couch.”

“Calm down, Mingi… I just don’t wanna bother.”

“We’re friends, relax. So, bed or couch?”

“We can share the bed, I don’t mind.” You were just a little embarrassed, but it was fine. “Give me one of your shirts or something so I can sleep.”

“Wanna shower?” You did. You were still a mess, sticky and flustered, adjusting your clothes like it would help somehow. “Go ahead, I’ll order some food.”

Mingi was so sweet you couldn’t help but feel safe there, like actually comfortable. That post-makeout awkwardness you usually felt with guys? Nonexistent. Maybe it was because he was your friend, and it really felt like he cared.

You took a long, needed shower, and when you were done, he handed you a pair of boxers, some comfy shorts, and a soft oversized shirt like you’d asked. He’d ordered Chinese, and you ate with him while watching TV like nothing had just happened between you — chatting about college, life, random stuff. At some point, you were barely keeping your eyes open.

“Let’s go to bed. It’s pretty late,” he said, turning off the TV and getting up. “I’m gonna shower. You can go ahead and sleep if you want.”

So you did. You headed to his room, crawled into his bed and immediately sank into the smell of his sheets. That soft, clean scent of his cologne was everywhere. Your brain briefly panicked about what you’d tell your roommate the next day, assuming you’d even tell her anything. But she'd probably annoy you until you did.

You were drifting off when you heard Mingi come in. He had a towel slung low around his hips, and you peeked — just a little — before shutting your eyes again. He changed, then slipped into bed right beside you, and suddenly your heart was racing. He smelled like soap, like shampoo, like everything warm and familiar, and holy shit, all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him. But you didn’t. You forced yourself to stay still, and eventually, you managed to fall asleep.

But nothing — nothing — could’ve prepared you for the morning.

You woke up to a warm weight draped over your waist. At first, you almost ignored it… until you remembered you weren’t in your bed. You weren’t in your room. You were at Mingi’s. And his arm was on your waist.

And then it all came rushing back… the way his finger felt inside you, the things he said, the way you came so hard you couldn’t speak… and now? Now he was pressed right up against you, and very clearly hard. You could feel his cock resting against your lower back, thick and hot even through the fabric, and you really, really didn’t want to freak out.

But fuck.

How?

You shifted your hips, just a little, enough to grind back into him, slow and deliberate, because you wanted to feel him. All of him.

Mingi mumbled something low, half-asleep, and pulled you closer, spooning you tight, his breath warm against your neck. The way it made you shiver? Unfair. You bit back a soft moan, trying to keep it together.

You couldn’t stop wondering… was this just morning wood? Or was he actually turned on?

But the way he was holding you, not moving away, letting your ass press right up against him like that… yeah, it could definitely be both.

“Hey…” His voice was deep and rough, soaked in sleep, and it went straight to your core. “You doing that on purpose?”

“I was just… trying to feel you.”

Your voice came out breathier than you expected. He let out a low groan, somewhere between sleepy and way too sexy for your own good.

“Then why don’t you just touch it?”

“You want me to touch your dick?” You didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but damn.

He chuckled against your neck, his body shaking a little with it.

“You did say you wanted to feel me.” Then he rolled onto his back, arms behind his head, shameless and relaxed. “I’m all yours.”

You could see it. The tent in his shorts, the thick bulge straining against the fabric… and shit, it looked huge.

You swallowed hard, your shaky hands practically begging to touch him.

You sat up on the bed, reached for him, and the second your fingers brushed over his clothed length, you felt it. Hard and heavy, all for you. Fuck. 

“Shit, baby… want me to take it out for you?”

His voice was low and wrecked, thick with lust, and god, he wanted this just as badly as you did.

“I can do it.” Your fingers slid under his waistband, tugging down his shorts and boxers in one go until his cock sprang free. Thick, flushed, and already leaking, smacking lightly against his stomach. “So big…”

“Yeah?” He wrapped a hand around himself, giving a slow squeeze that made precum beads at the tip. “You like it?”

“Yes…” God, you did. He was pretty, and that wasn't something you'd ever said about a dick before. But his? Fuck, yes. “Let me touch you.”

You weren’t some handjob expert or anything, you’d done it before, sure, but this felt different. Bigger. More intense. More him. Still, you wanted to do it right. You wanted to make him feel good.

Mingi watched you as you wrapped your fingers around him, slow strokes at first, eyes flicking between your hand and your face. His cock twitched in your grip, and that alone made your thighs clench. 

He hummed in approval when you squeezed a bit harder, stroking slowly, getting his tip wetter with precum before you could do it a bit faster.

But you wanted more. 

You didn’t even think, just leaned in and spit on his cock to help your hands glide easier.

The slick sound it made when you started stroking him faster had you biting your lip, and then came his whimper… breathy, needy, absolutely filthy.

“Fuck… you’re good at this…”

Hearing that lit something in you. Gave you all the confidence you needed to keep going.

You spit on him again, not giving a damn about being messy, and the way Mingi moaned for you… it was the hottest sound you’d ever heard.

You were using both hands now; he was big, too big for just one. It made your hands feel small, and the thought of having his cock inside you? Kinda terrifying… but mostly it just made your pussy clench and drip even more.

“Baby… I’m gonna cum—” he panted, voice desperate, eyes locked on you like he was begging you not to stop.

And you didn’t. You weren’t stopping until you felt his hot load spill across your fingers.

He let out a deep, wrecked moan as he came, hips twitching, cock pulsing in your hands. His cum painted your fingers, spilled onto his belly, his pelvis, so much of it.

God, it was so hot.

You loved the feeling, knowing you made him come like that. Make him lose it with just your hands.

“So…” Mingi was still catching his breath, chest rising and falling. “Now you’ve felt me.”

You laughed under your breath. Yeah, the whole thing started with you just wanting to feel how hard he was. But this? This was so much better.

“Yeah… I liked that. And…” You still had his cum on your fingers, warm and sticky. And you didn’t fight the urge anymore. You brought them to your mouth, licking them clean right in front of him — just like he did with you. “I like your taste too.”

“Fuck, you’re killing me.”

He sat on the bed and pulled you closer, kissing you like he needed it. That caught you off guard. You thought most guys would be grossed out by kissing you after you had their cum in your mouth.

But not Mingi.

He kissed you deep, tongue and all, messy and hot, just the way you liked it.

“Can I do something? Please?” he asked, breathless against your lips.

“What?” You were already dizzy from the kiss alone.

“I wanna eat your pussy…”

You felt heat rush through your whole body. You wanted that, bad. Even if the sunlight was peeking through the window, making everything feel more exposed. There was no way you could say no.

“…Okay.”

You didn’t know exactly what to do, but Mingi did. He gently switched your positions, laying you on your back and climbing over you.

He tugged your shorts off and tossed them aside without looking, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your pussy. You were soaked, your arousal shining under the light, and it clearly drove him wild.

You didn’t need to be asked, your legs opened for him on their own, desperate to know how it would feel to have his mouth on you.

He kissed your thighs first, slow and wet, his soft lips making obscene sounds against your flushed skin. You couldn’t stop staring at him, he looked like he was enjoying this as much as you.

Your eyes locked, and in that second, you knew: if you wanted him to stop, he would. You felt safe. Even with your legs spread wide open in front of him.

Then his lips met your mound. A chill shot through your spine and you had to fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

But Mingi kept you open for him.

He pressed a kiss to your clit first, then started to lick it, slowly, teasing, just getting a taste of you. Watching your reactions.

Your eyes fluttered shut. It was already one of the best things you’d ever felt — and somehow, it got better. He started sucking your clit, flicking his tongue over it, then dipped just the tip of his tongue inside you. Then he was making out with your pussy, completely lost in it.

You wanted to scream. Your whole body was trembling, your chest tight with how good it felt. You couldn’t keep your hips still, you were grinding against his mouth, moaning uncontrollably, fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him even closer.

You were so close. You could feel yourself falling apart.

And when your orgasm hit, it wrecked you.

Your legs trembled, your stomach clenched, and your moans were so loud you didn’t even register them until your body started to come down.

It was hands down the best orgasm of your life.

Fuck.

Mingi kissed your thighs while you were still trembling, then crawled up your body to press soft kisses to your neck and lips.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, and fuck, that was easily the hottest thing you’d ever done.

“So… did you like it?”

“Are you kidding?” Your voice was barely audible. “That was insanely good.”

“I’m glad.” He let himself drop beside you with a satisfied sigh, stretching lazily. “Hmm… I think we should get some breakfast. But… my roommate might be home already…”

What?

Fuck.

There was someone there? And Mingi just let you moan like that?

“You didn’t think that was worth mentioning before I screamed loud enough for your neighbors to know your name?”

“Nope,” he said, grinning. “Didn’t want you to hold back. But relax. If he heard anything, he won’t care.”

“Fuck, Mingi. I’m so embarrassed.”

“There’s no need. He won’t say anything, and he won’t even know it was you. I’m not telling anyone.”

“…Okay then. Thanks. I guess.”

You didn’t stay in bed much longer. Not because it wasn’t tempting, but because you were starving. You changed back into your clothes from yesterday, and Mingi took you out to your favorite coffee shop so you could have your much-needed morning caffeine.

What surprised you most was how easy everything felt. There was no awkwardness between you two.

You talked about college, cracked dumb jokes, and laughed about random stuff like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just made you come harder than anyone ever had.

But then it hit you: a vivid flashback of Mingi’s mouth between your legs, and your thighs clenched on their own. Your cheeks burned instantly.

“What?” he asked, smirking. “You’re blushing.”

“Yeah, I…” Why couldn’t you breathe properly all of a sudden? “Sorry, I just…”

“You were thinking about the dirty stuff we did, huh?” He leaned closer, teasing. “I think you might be ready to really do it.”

“I was… and you think so?”

“Yeah. I figured you might be a little traumatized from the other guys,” he said gently, “but you’re doing fine. So, whenever you feel ready… we can.”

You were speechless. Truth was, you’d felt ready the second he first kissed you. He had been nothing but respectful, never pushing, never rushing, and that made you want him even more.

“…Okay, so what do you think about tonight?”

Mingi raised his eyebrows, looking a little surprised by what you’d just said. You were surprised, too. You thought it would take longer for you to let go like that. But the truth was… you felt ready. And the best part? Him.

You weren’t going to lose your virginity to some random loser. It was going to be with someone you trusted. Someone who cared about you.

“It’s totally up to you. I’m free tonight,” he said with a soft smile, a sweet one this time. “You sure about this?”

“Yeah… I really want to.”

Mingi smiled wider and, like the absolute prince he was, formally invited you on a date. He said he didn’t want to just take you to his place and jump into bed — he wanted to give you the whole experience. And you kinda liked the idea.

He even walked you home. But the moment you stepped into your apartment, your roommate nearly lost her mind.

“Tell me everything!!! You slept with your hot friend, didn’t you?! I saw you two! Holy shit, he’s gorgeous… you’re so fucking lucky.”

“I didn’t…” you muttered, cheeks burning. “Yet.”

You were way too embarrassed to give her all the details, like how he made you moan louder than you ever had in your life. So you just said one thing led to another… and now you had a date.

That was enough to send her into full panic-mode-on-your-behalf. She practically dragged you out of the house to buy lingerie, insisting that if you were finally going to lose your virginity, you needed something sexy. And you knew that she was right.

You found a few beautiful sets. Lacy bras and panties that made you feel way hotter than you expected. But once you bought them, it really hit you: this was happening. You were finally going to have sex.

Fuck.

You still couldn’t believe it.

Back home, your roommate helped you style your hair and pick out an outfit for the night.

She was genuinely happy for you, and you were getting really nervous. But in the best possible way.

“Listen… it might hurt a little. But it’ll feel good after, okay? Just keep that in mind.”

She wasn’t trying to scare you — she was actually being gentle — but it wasn’t exactly helping. “And he’s experienced, right? That’s a very good thing.”

“I know it’s gonna hurt…” Because Mingi was big. Like, the biggest you’d ever seen. “But I’m not really that scared about the pain. I’m more nervous about… what happens after.”

“Like… things getting weird between you two?”

“I don’t think they will…”

And you meant it. Mingi didn’t make things weird. He made you feel safe.

“Then relax,” she said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “And for the love of God, use a condom.”

That made you laugh, even if you weren’t sure why. Maybe because you were quietly freaking out and laughter was the only thing keeping you from losing it.

And yeah… time was running out. He’d be there any minute, and your nerves weren’t exactly calming down.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was Mingi. You’d already done things with him, intimate things. This was just the next step. You wanted it. And you trusted him. Everything was going to be fine.

Your roommate helped you finish your makeup, soft and glowy, just the way you liked, and a few minutes later, your phone buzzed.

Mingi was calling. He was already downstairs, waiting for you. 

When you came down, he was already in the car, parked right in front of your building. As soon as you got in, the scent of his cologne hit you. Clean, expensive, and so him. He looked really good too, even more so in those clothes.

“Hi…” you said, trying not to fall apart while buckling your seatbelt. ��Where are you taking me?”

“Well… I know you like Italian food, so I picked a nice Italian restaurant.”

“You’re making me really nervous, you know? I…” your voice was shaky, your breathing unsteady. “I just feel a little weird doing this, like…”

Like it was something serious. That’s what you meant.

“There’s no need to be nervous, you know that, right?” he said gently. “We’ve gone out to eat a bunch of times. The only difference is that tonight, I’m helping you with something… personal.” He smirked, starting the car. “Could’ve happened before, if you wanted.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m unsure about this. I want it. I’ve been thinking about it all day, actually… it’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Maybe you’re just overthinking it,” he said, flashing you that same calm, charming smile. “It’s all good. We don’t need to plan every step. Let’s just eat, talk, and see where the night takes us.”

He was right, you knew that. But still, why was your heart racing like that? Damn. 

Either way, you managed to calm down a bit when he let you pick the music.

Dinner was amazing. You ate well, sipped on some very good wine, and Mingi showed you just how much of a gentleman he could be on a date. You’d been out with him before, sure, but it never felt like this. This was different. This was a real date.

A few hours passed in what felt like minutes. Eating, drinking, laughing, talking. When the check came, he grabbed it and paid before you could even peek at the price.

As you were leaving the restaurant, his hand found your lower back — guiding you gently, protectively, until you reached the car. That simple touch made you shiver, even though you were way calmer than earlier.

“So…” he said once you were both buckled in. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

The playful tone in his voice helped a lot. You were still a little nervous, sure, but you knew exactly what you wanted now. You weren’t backing out.

“Maybe your place, handsome,” you replied, matching his tone.

He chuckled, turning the engine on. “Not nervous anymore?”

“Just a little. But I’m good.”

“That’s good.”

You looked over at him while he drove, and damn, he looked so good. So relaxed, so confident. You were on a date with a ridiculously hot guy… and you were going to sleep with him. Silly thoughts, maybe. But you couldn’t stop them.

Not long after you left the restaurant, Mingi was already pulling into the parking lot of his building, and you could feel the thick tension between you as soon as you stepped into the elevator. He was acting all relaxed, but you could tell… he was probably just as nervous as you.

When he opened the door to his apartment, you walked into the living room a little faster than you meant to, maybe driven by all that anticipation building inside you. He locked the door behind you and turned the lights on.

“Do you want something to drink…?”

“Not now, but thanks. I’m kinda nervous…” You bit your lower lip, taking a good look at him. God, he looked so good. So fucking good. “Can we… go to your room?”

“I’m kinda nervous too, to be honest. I’m gonna be your first, and I really don’t want this to be a bad experience for you. I’ll try my best.”

“Mingi, I trust you. I really do. I’m not even worried about that…”

“Good… so, we’re both nervous and in the mood. What are we waiting for?”

You chuckled at his words as he guided you to his bedroom. He had changed the sheets, it smelled really nice in there, clean but still like him. You sat right on the edge of his bed and waited as he closed the door behind you.

When he turned around and looked at you, his gaze was so intense, you could feel he was holding something back. And fuck… you couldn’t wait to find out what he was going to do to you.

Mingi sat right next to you, and after making you squirm under his intense stare, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you into a rough, hungry kiss. Fuck… it was really happening now. Kissing him wasn’t new, but this time it felt different. It felt hotter, more desperate, like you both couldn’t wait any longer.

Your body was already burning up, and it was like he knew exactly what you needed. Without saying a word, he unzipped your dress and slid it off you like it was nothing, not even giving you a second to overthink it. You let him, kissing him harder, wanting more.

You couldn’t help but silently thank your friend for making you buy that lingerie set, because the second Mingi saw you sitting there in just your bra and panties, he let out the filthiest fucking groan.

He hooked a finger under the strap of your bra, playing with it, before biting your lip and trailing his mouth down your neck. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind you, unhooked your bra with one quick move, and tossed it aside like he couldn’t get it off fast enough. 

He was still fully dressed, it didn’t feel fair at all. So you tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. You had to break the kiss for just a second to pull it off, and that gave you a chance to really look at him… his flushed face, his lips already swollen from how hard you’d been kissing him. You couldn’t help yourself. You had to bite them, suck on them, make him feel just as desperate as you did.

You pushed him back until he was lying flat on the bed, and as soon as he hit the mattress, you climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. This time, it was you who kissed him like you were starving for it, your tongue in his mouth, your hands all over his chest, raking your nails down his skin.

His hands slid down from your waist to your ass, gripping you so hard it almost hurt, squeezing and groping until you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. He pulled you closer, pressing you down against the bulge in his pants, making you grind against him as your bare tits brushed over his chest.

But he wanted more. He pulled you enough to bury his face in your breasts, licking and sucking your nipples, teasing them with his hot tongue until they were aching. He devoured you, biting just hard enough to make you gasp, his lips marking you, claiming every inch of your skin. Fuck, it felt so good you couldn’t think.

You shifted to kiss him again, grinding shamelessly against his clothed cock, your hips moving on instinct as dirty flashbacks flooded your mind. You could already feel how soaked your panties were, though they barely counted as panties at all. The thin, see-through thong did nothing to hide how wet and desperate you’d gotten for him.

“Baby… I gotta…” He grabbed your hips, holding you still for a second as his hands moved down to unbuckle his pants. You hadn’t even realized how tight they were on him. “Let me take these off.”

As soon as he shoved them down and kicked them away, you climbed right back on top of him, grinding against his cock again, slow and needy. He left his boxers on, but you could already see the wet spot spreading there. 

You really wanted to make him feel good, you felt this urge to try something new, it was pulsing inside you. You rested your hands on his chest, slowly breaking the kiss.

“Mingi… can I…” Your fingers slid down to his waistband, teasing, pulling the elastic just enough to catch a glimpse of the neatly trimmed hair there. “Can I suck you off?”

He blinked at you a few times, like he couldn’t quite believe what you’d just said. Of course, you knew you were offering something no man in the world could resist, and you wanted to get that exact reaction out of him. It worked.

“F… fuck. You really wanna do that?” He licked his lips, almost trembling beneath you. “If you really want to… do it. I know I’m gonna fucking love it.”

“It’s my first time…” you murmured, trailing wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, then over his chest and hard abs. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”

He just nodded, breath hitching, eyes fixed on you as you slid his boxers down, finally freeing his cock. It sprang up, thick and heavy, slapping against his lower belly. Your mouth watered instantly. Fuck… you’d never thought about sucking a dick before, but you needed it, craved the taste of him.

You wet your lips first, then stroked him slowly a few times, just to watch the precum bead at the tip. You leaned in and cleaned it up with your tongue. It tasted a little salty, but it only made you crave more. You licked along his length, making him groan again, a sound that you felt deep between your legs as you clenched harder than you thought was possible.

Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, you started sucking on the tip, just like your friends had described before. God, you liked his taste, and you were already making a mess with your spit and his precum.

“Just like that, baby… make it wet. I like messy.”

Fuck, his voice. You couldn’t believe how turned on you were just from sucking him off.

You tried to take more of him into your mouth, and you gagged a little when he hit the back of your throat, but the way he moaned almost made you not care at all.

“You’re so pretty sucking dick, baby… keep going…” He caressed your head, holding your hair to get a better view as you started moving a little faster. “Fuck, yes… use your hand too. Like that… fuck. Such a good girl for me.”

You didn’t care if you were choking on his cock or not. You loved being praised like that. You could already feel how wet you were, ready to drip at any second.

You kept using your hand just like he told you to, listening to every instruction, loving how much he kept telling you how good you were at it. You bobbed your head faster, getting used to taking him while jerking him off at the same time. It was hard at first, but now you were doing it easily.

“I don’t wanna cum in your mouth… let's stop here. Let me eat your pussy now.”

He gently pushed you away, watching as a string of spit kept him connected to your swollen lips.

“God, you’re gonna kill me.” He touched your lower lip, running his thumb across it, as if he couldn’t resist praising you. “Lay down and spread those legs for me, huh?”

You used the back of your hand to wipe your chin and happily laid down for him, letting him slide your ruined panties off in a second.

“Fucking God, you’re so wet…” He ran his fingers between your pussy lips, feeling just how slick you were. “Baby got this wet just from sucking my cock?”

Yes, you did. And you were so horny that any trace of embarrassment had already faded. You nodded, spreading your legs a bit more, silently begging him to lick your pussy because you couldn’t wait another second.

Mingi didn’t make you wait. He dived in, eating you out like you were his favorite fucking meal. His groans and moans vibrated against your pussy, his tongue teasing your entrance before he slipped a finger inside, making your head spin. Fuck. You ground down on his face, unable to stop yourself… your whole body was on fire, and you screamed when he added a second finger, the sudden stretch making you shiver under his touch.

There was nothing but pure pleasure. He finger-fucked you so fast and so deep that the obscene wet sounds echoed through the room, proof of how messy and turned on you were.

“Gonna cum… fuck, don’t stop, please…” You clutched at his hair, grinding your pussy against his face, sloppy and desperate. He loved every second of it. So did you.

You tried to close your legs when your orgasm ripped through you, stealing every breath and almost your soul, but he didn’t let you. You whimpered, tried to push him away, but your legs barely worked. He finally stopped touching you, but kept his eyes fixed, watching the way your pussy kept clenching even after you came.

"That was so hot, baby..." When you finally came down from your high, you saw Mingi ripping open the condom and rolling it down his cock. "Ready?"

"Yes. Fuck. Yes." You didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but your pussy wasn’t exactly letting your brain make decisions anymore. Your legs were already spread, your body completely relaxed, and you couldn’t possibly be any wetter. Everything was ready.

"Okay, I’m gonna put it in… slowly. Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?"

He hovered over you, eyes locked on yours, holding himself up with one arm while guiding his cock to your entrance with the other. You felt the pressure, the stretch as he started pushing in—slow, careful. There was pain, but not in a way that made you want to stop. It was… thick. Full. He was big. You knew that. But feeling it? That was something else. And he was barely halfway in.

"God, you’re so big…" You gripped his biceps, biting down on your lip.

"You can take it." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, his voice deep and steady. "It’s just the tip now, but you can take my cock. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?"

You moaned just from hearing him say that. He already knew how much you loved being praised, and when he felt you clenching around him, he groaned.

"Fuck... can I keep going?"

You nodded, bracing yourself, but the pain never got too sharp. He didn’t bottom out just yet, but even half of him made you feel stretched to your limits. Still, the thought of having him completely inside you made your whole body ache for more. You focused on relaxing, breathing slowly.

"Fuck... I want more. Give it to me. Please."

Mingi waited a few seconds, like he needed to be sure you were okay, and then did exactly what you asked. He was so gentle, so patient—you couldn’t have asked for a better first time. And then it happened. His cock slid all the way in, filling you to the hilt.

The feeling was overwhelming. You felt so full, so hot, so incredibly stretched.

"Tell me when I can move."

You pulled him in for a kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Move... please..."

Nothing could’ve prepared you for that. Not fingers. Not toys. Nothing. It burned at first, but not enough to stop. You were soaked, and the sounds—wet, obscene, addictive—only made you more delirious. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on how he moved inside you, how deep he was, how thick he felt.

But you needed to see it. You looked down, desperate to watch the way your pussy was taking him.

Mingi got the hint. He sat back on his knees, shifting your hips slightly so you could see it happen—see his cock disappearing inside you over and over.

"Play with your clit for me." He grabbed your thighs, his eyes fixed on where you were connected. "Fuck, you're taking me so well..."

You licked your fingers and started rubbing your clit. It was swollen, hypersensitive, and the added stimulation made you moan like a mess. You didn’t care. You just needed more.

"Feels good, baby?" He held himself deep inside you. "Think you can cum for me like that?"

"Yes..." You looked again, watching how slick his cock got each time he slid in. You didn’t stop rubbing, and soon your hips started moving too, chasing that feeling. You felt everything—his size, his weight, the way he hit that same spot his fingers found before—and it made you dizzy.

"You're clenching... keep going, baby. Use my cock. Get yourself off. Cum all over it."

You didn’t hold back. You rode him the way you needed, chasing your high, grinding and moaning and letting go. It didn’t take long. Your body locked up as your orgasm hit, your pussy squeezing him in waves while you screamed, head thrown back, completely undone. Mingi groaned with you, like your pleasure alone was driving him insane.

Your legs were useless now, limp from the intensity. You were still coming down when he started moving again—this time harder, faster, with no hesitation. All you could feel was pleasure.

"You're so hard... I can feel you. So deep..."

"Didn’t think you’d take cock this well, baby... Can I fuck you harder?"

"Yes... fuck me. Wanna feel you cum too."

For a second, you hated the condom, but it didn’t matter. Not when he started pounding into you like that. It was rougher, and you loved every second. Your body was sore but it felt too good to care. You heard his moans, his breath getting shakier as he got closer. He kissed you, bit your neck, and moaned against your lips when he finally came, filling the condom as his cock throbbed inside you.

God, that was insanely good. 

You were caressing his back while he tried to catch his breath. You had just lost your virginity, and it felt so good you could barely believe it.

“So… good enough for your first time?” He slowly slid out of you, pulling off the condom and tying it up. “I’m really glad you chose me, gotta say.”

“It was amazing. Thank you… really.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I did you a favor, and as you can see…” He lifted the condom, still full. “I had a great time too. Huh… Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. And… you know… is this a one-time thing? I’m sorry for asking that right now, it’s just…” You hesitated, suddenly aware of how exposed you were—and not just physically. “I… I don’t know. Forget it.”

“It doesn’t have to be. A one-time thing, I mean. If you want more…”

“I was just thinking that maybe next time you could… skip the condom, maybe?” Your voice dropped a little, more nervous now. “I was a virgin until now, and I take the pill. I just… really want to know how that would feel.”

“So… you’re asking me to creampie you?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking like the cocky bastard he was. “You know that feels like going to heaven, right?”

He looked so hot saying that, so confident, his body still glistening slightly from sweat. You couldn’t stop staring.

“I can do that, of course. Your pussy’s gonna look so pretty dripping with my cum…”

Your cheeks burned instantly, and you had to look away.

“Hm… feeling shy now? Bit too late for that.” He chuckled, tossing the condom aside and lying down beside you, his fingers lazily exploring your chest, your collarbone, your neck. “Ask me whatever you want. I’ll do it. I can be your first for a lot more things, you know.”

“That sounded like an invitation… want to keep me around?”

You turned to your side, facing him, still trying to process everything that just happened. Your legs were sore, your body still buzzing, and your brain felt like it had short-circuited somewhere halfway through.

Mingi looked over at you with that same cocky, satisfied smile, resting one arm under his head.

“I think I'll.”

A second later, he slid closer behind you, pressing his bare chest against your back and wrapping an arm lazily around your waist. You didn’t answer him, it wasn’t necessary. You just tangled your fingers with his and fell asleep. 

Somehow, the crazy decision that led you to end up naked in his bed turned out to be the best one you’ve ever made.

[cheftsunoda]

wait, what? — ih6

smau + real life

lewis hamilton x !daughter reader

isack hadjar x !model hamilton reader

Isack grew up idolizing Lewis Hamilton — posters on the wall, interviews memorized, the whole deal. But nothing could’ve prepared him for the moment he unknowingly asked out his daughter. One minute, he’s shooting his shot… the next, he’s dating a Hamilton.

fc : halima saadiyah

not proofread — still trying to brainstorm ideas for new series— send me any requests!

—

whotfisnaya

liked by lewishamilton, kikagomes, charles_leclerc & 1,348,308 others.

whotfisnaya : can’t talk rn doing hot girl shit

(also ferrari get your shit together or so help me god😁🔪)

—

kikagomes : my gf lover angel gave me flowers when i landed this morning 💘💋🤩🥹

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : take notes pear, this is why she is mine

liked by kikagomes

pierregasly : I lost her to you a long time ago..i just quit fighting

username00 : don’t feel bad pierre, it’s just part of the hamilton charm

liked by whotfisnaya & kikagomes

lewishamilton: Bub. What did we say about threatening the new team already? At least give them a full season.

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : my patience is out. i choose violence.

lewishamilton : I will not be making any further comments on that. You look beautiful, princess! Miss you.

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : thank you fatherrrr💘 see you this weekend!

liked by lewishamilton

charles_leclerc : welcome to the ferrari family, naya!

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : idk how you’ve made it this long leclerc…i would’ve crashed out and burnt everything to the ground like 3 years ago

liked by charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc : I’ve thought about it…but i just keep going back

whotfisnaya : stockholm syndrome. ferrari free my man from these chains

liked by charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

georgerussell63 : only 6 races into the season and I already miss you (somehow)

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : you try so hard to act like you don’t love me but i think you cried harder about me leaving than you did about dad

lewishamilton : can confirm

whotfisnaya : tell big man toto to be prepared because i am coming over next race

liked by georgerussell63

georgerussell63 : mario kart?

whotfisnaya : sigh. yes GR

carlossainz55 : psssst. it doesn’t get any better naya

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : im glad you’re free my friend

whotfisnaya : gonna start some mid season contract negotiations for him — im tired

whotfisnaya : WHO WANTS 8 (🖕🏻) TIME WORLD CHAMPION LEWIS HAMILTON ON THEIR TEAM

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, pierregasly, lando, olliebearman, and oscarpiastri

lewishamilton : naya honey there is a reason I have professionals do this

—

f1 added a post to their story!

seen by 12,453,389.

—

There’s something about the Ferrari red that still doesn’t feel real. I’ve spent most of my life watching my dad win in silver, black, even turquoise—but red? It still throws me.

Still, I can’t lie… he wears it well.

I stroll into the paddock, dodging cameras and a few fans with sharp eyes. Sunglasses on, credentials tucked into my jacket, I keep my pace casual. Familiar.

“Look who decided to show up,” Dad calls before I even reach the Ferrari garage. He’s leaning against the wall in his race suit, arms folded, exuding the exact same energy he’s always had before lights out—calm, confident, and just a little smug.

“Didn’t want to miss my favorite guy in red,” I say, stepping in for a quick hug. He pressed a kiss to my temple.

Charles appears beside him, grinning as always. “You mean me, right?”

“You’re definitely top three,” I tease. We share a hug.

We fall into easy conversation—something about tire strategy, Charles’ espresso addiction, and how dad had to clear things with Ferrari after my recent…comments online.

It’s comfortable here. Familiar. But after a while, I shift my weight and check the time.

“I’m gonna go find Ollie,” I say, casually, but I see the way Dad lifts an eyebrow.

“Just friends,” I remind him before he can say anything.

“I didn’t say a word,” he replies with a smirk.

Charles, of course, does. “That’s not what your dad’s face says.”

I roll my eyes and walk backward toward the exit. “You two need new hobbies.”

—

The Haas garage is less polished than Ferrari’s—more wires, more noise, more energy. It feels alive.

Ollie spots me right away, lifting his helmet slightly and grinning. “You’re late.”

“You’re early,” I shoot back.

We fist-bump and fall into step, walking along the edge of the garage. “We’re still on for that sim day next week?” he asks.

“Obviously.”

As we walk, someone else joins us— shorter than Ollie, dark curls, relaxed smile.

“Oh—Naya, this is Isack. Isack, Naya.”

I offer a small smile. “Hi.”

Isack returns it, maybe a little too quickly. “Hey. Uh… sorry, are you new to the paddock?”

Ollie snorts. “You could say that.”

I shrug. “I’ve been around a while.”

He holds out a hand. “Well, it’s cool to meet you. Are you, like… press or PR or something?”

I shake his hand, biting back a grin. “Something like that.”

Ollie coughs pointedly but doesn’t say more. I shoot him a look—don’t you dare ruin this.

Isack turns slightly red, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re probably used to being around all this, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, eyes flicking back toward the sea of red where my dad is doing media interviews. “You could say it runs in the family.”

—

I didn’t mean to hang around the garage that long. Really, I didn’t. But somehow, after Ollie wandered off to a briefing, I was still there—leaning against a pit wall, sipping on a bottle of water, chatting with Isack like we’d known each other longer than just a few hours.

He was easy to talk to. Surprisingly easy. Funny in a quiet way. Charming in a not trying too hard kind of way.

“So, you’re not press. You’re not PR. But you are paddock fluent,” he says, leaning on the wall next to me, arms crossed.

I smirk. “Observant.”

“And you won’t tell me what you actually do?”

“I like mystery.”

He laughs. “Alright, Miss Mystery. You coming to the after-party tonight?”

I tilt my head. “Depends. Are you going?”

“I might now,” he says, eyes glinting. “If I knew someone cool would be there.”

My smile softens, but I keep my voice even. “I’ll think about it.”

He pauses for a beat, and I can feel the shift—the way his tone gets just a little more serious, like he’s testing the water.

“Okay, real question,” he says. “Do you want to get coffee sometime? Like, not here. Somewhere… quieter. Just us.”

For a second, I just blink at him. He still doesn’t know. Still doesn’t realize who I am.

And it’s kind of… nice.

“Are you asking me out, Isack Hadjar?” I ask, folding my arms with a playful smile.

He grins, a little sheepish. “I think I am, yeah.”

I pretend to consider it, tapping my chin. “Hmm… you’re cute. And bold. I respect that.”

“So is that a yes?”

“Maybe,” I say, letting the word hang. “But only if you promise not to freak out when you find out who I am.”

His smile falters, just a little. “Should I be scared?”

I grin. “Terrified.”

Just then, I hear someone call my name—one of the Ferrari PR girls, waving me over.

“Duty calls,” I say, stepping back.

He watches me go with a slight frown. “Wait, are you actually someone famous or—?”

I shoot him a wink over my shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.”

Lando and Max stood next to Ollie and the rest of the rookies who were watching intently.

“He doesn’t have a clue who she is, does he?” Max asked with a smirk present on his face.

“Nope.” Ollie said with a chuckle.

—

whotfisnaya

liked by olliebearman, isackhadjar, charles_leclerc & 2,277,843 others.

whotfisnaya : i was told no more threatening ferrari so idrk what to caption this paddock dump

—

charles_leclerc : out of all the pictures you chose THAT one naya

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : that’s what you get for stealing my phone charles

scuderiaferrari: thank you naya. we appreciate you for trying

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya: id appreciate you guys trying some actual strategy

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and carlossainz55

username00 : NAYA😭

isackhadjar : so nice to meet you today, naya!

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : nice to meet you love!!

olliebearman : and to think you tried to tell me the ears weren’t a fashion statement

olliebearman : i look GOODt

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : bitch u look good with a t at the end…or whatever tf saweetie said

georgerussell63 : half of our mario kart time was taken up by you and toto gossiping

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya: god forbid a girl and her bestie catch up

whotfisnaya : still gave me enough time to beat your ass

georgerussell63 : i demand a retrial

whotfisnaya : you just want to hang again

georgerussell63 : blah blah details

username7 : her and toto gossiping omg

—

whotfisnaya added to her story!

seen by lando, olliebearman, lewishamilton & 2,278,358 others.

lando : does he know yet?

whotfisnaya : girl ur so nosey…and no

olliebearman : get in there isack!!!!

whotfisnaya: hate u 💘

lewishamilton: Hm. Who?

whotfisnaya: I don’t kiss and tell father but you will meet him soon.

lewishamilton : Sigh. I’ll go ask Toto.

whotfisnaya: that man would never spill my secrets, not even to you.

—

I wasn’t even nervous. Okay, maybe a little. But it wasn’t like a real date, right? Just coffee. Just… two people getting to know each other, in a quiet café tucked away from the chaos of race weekends. No pit lane, no photographers, no Ollie looking smug in the background. Just me and Isack and some overpriced espresso.

He was already there when I arrived — black hoodie, cap pulled low, sunglasses on like we were undercover spies instead of two mildly recognizable faces. He stood up when he saw me, smile soft and completely unguarded.

“You made it,” he said, sounding almost surprised.

“I said I would,” I replied, sliding into the chair across from him. “Do I strike you as unreliable?”

“Not at all,” he grinned. “Just… cool enough to bail at the last second if something better came up.”

I shrugged. “You’re lucky I like coffee.”

We talked for over an hour. About everything and nothing. He told me about his first karting crash, the fact that he still forgets to pack socks on travel weekends, and how much he actually hates running, no matter what his trainer says. I told him about the cities I’d lived in growing up, my obsession with baking shows, and my ongoing feud with Ferrari’s coffee machine.

(That part almost gave me away. But he didn’t catch it. Not yet.)

At one point, he leaned back, just watching me over the rim of his cup.

“What?” I asked, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

“You’re hard to figure out.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Not at all.”

The silence between us was warm, not awkward. Comfortable. Which is probably why I blurted it out before I could overthink it.

“So… I’m having a birthday thing at the end of this month. It’s kind of a mix of family and friends, not a huge party, but you should come.”

He blinked, like I’d just asked him to join me on a trip to the moon. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Why not?” I took another sip of my coffee and added casually, “You’re fun. I like you.”

He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that didn’t need any clever reply.

“I’d love to come,” he said finally. “What should I wear? Are we talking jeans or, like, red carpet-level fancy?”

I laughed. “Definitely not red carpet. Just… look nice. And maybe be ready for a few surprises.”

His brow furrowed. “What kind of surprises?”

I smirked. “You’ll see.”

—

whotfisnaya

liked by isackhadjar, georgerussell63, olliebearman & 2,389,294 others.

whotfisnaya: life’s been cute or whateva

—

lewishamilton: I always thought I spoiled Roscoe the most and then I came back and you had ordered him every vegan item off the menu.

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : that’s my boy right thurrrr— he asked me for it all and I deliver

lewishamilton : yeah on my credit card

whotfisnaya: duh

georgerussell63 : so honored to be included in a dump alongside your soft launch

whotfisnaya : only added because carms looks so cute

carmenmmundt : love you naya❤️❤️

liked by whotfisnaya

georgerussell63 : BETRAYAL

olliebearman : oh so we’ve moved into a soft launch era?

whotfisnaya: I literally should have never taught any of you men that phrase

—

isackhadjar

liked by whotfisnaya, olliebearman, yukitsunoda0511 & 424,289 others.

isackhadjar : lovin’ life

—

olliebearman : getting close with the in laws I see?

this comment has been deleted

olliebearman : who is the lady?!

isackhadjar : nunya

olliebearman: that’s a weird way to spell naya.

whotfisnaya: oliver stop being a menace

yukitsunoda0511 : 🔥🔥

username00 : him having Lewis’ daughter in his likes and his dad comforting him must feel amazing

—

lewishamilton

liked by whotfisnaya, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 & 4,397,298 others.

lewishamilton : Happy birthday to my favorite girl in the world. Watching you grow into the woman you are today has been the greatest privilege of my life. You’re smart, bold, kind, and full of fire — just the way I always hoped you’d be. Keep chasing what sets your soul on fire. I’ll always be in your corner. Love you endlessly.

—

olliebearman: ofc the one day isack avoids instagram- sigh. HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAYA LOVE YOU

charles_leclerc : happy birthday mini hamilton! can’t wait to celebrate you.

georgerussell63 : to the biggest most lovable menace on the planet— happy birthday!

susie_wolff : Happy Birthday Sweet Girl!

scuderiaferrari : happy birthday naya!! 🎈🎈

mercedesamgf1 : happy birthday naya! we miss you so much!

—

The thing about hosting your birthday in Monaco is that there’s always a yacht, always a DJ, and always a guest list full of people who look like they belong in a GQ spread.

Mine wasn’t over-the-top — not by Monaco standards, anyway. Rooftop terrace, ambient lights, too many photographers across the street pretending not to be watching.

I spotted Isack the second he walked in, wearing a button-down that was definitely ironed by someone else and looking very out of place in the best way possible.

He kissed my cheek when he found me. “Happy birthday, Miss Mystery.”

“Glad you came,” I said with a grin. “Feeling brave?”

“Honestly? A little nervous,” he admitted. “I’ve seen three world champions already and I’ve been here five minutes.”

“Mm. You might want to stay nervous.”

I took his hand and pulled him gently toward the center of the terrace, weaving past Red Bull engineers, a retired footballer, and a couple of Ferrari mechanics.

And then—there he was.

Dad, standing by the bar, dressed in a sleek suit and sipping on sparkling water.

“Hey,” I said, walking up to him. “Someone I want you to meet.”

Dad turned, already grinning.

“This is Isack,” I said, as casually as if I were introducing him to my barista. “My boyfriend.”

Isack froze. Completely.

“Isack,” Dad said, offering his hand with a knowing smile. “Good to see you again.”

Again.

Isack blinked. Twice. Looked between us. “Wait. Hold on.”

I tried not to laugh.

“You’re…” He looked at Dad. “You’re her…?”

“Father,” Dad said smoothly. “Did she not mention that?”

“I—no. She definitely didn’t.”

I took a sip of my drink, trying not to smirk. “Felt like it would ruin the surprise.”

Isack turned back to me, eyes wide, voice half a whisper. “You’re Lewis Hamilton’s daughter.”

“Took you long enough.”

Dad clapped him on the shoulder, a little too hard. “Welcome to the family, son.”

Isack looked like he was questioning every life choice he’d ever made. I leaned in, voice just for him.

“close your mouth, love. you’ll catch flies.” i said and pushed up his chin.

—

“Oh no,” Isack muttered under his breath. “Why are they all here.”

“Because I have amazing friends,” I said sweetly. “And they love watching you suffer.”

“Hadjar!” Lando called, arms already spreading like he was about to hug him just to whisper something evil in his ear. “So you’re the one dating the princess of Formula One, huh?”

Jack whistled low. “You’ve got some guts, man.”

Kimi, deadpan as ever, tilted his head. “Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”

“I didn’t know!” Isack said for what was probably the seventh time tonight. “She didn’t say anything!”

“He called Lewis ‘sir,’” Ollie chimed in again, grinning like this was the best day of his life. “It was so formal.”

“Wait, did you?” Lando asked, barely holding in his laughter. “Like, a ‘Hello, Mr. Hamilton, may I date your daughter’ type situation?”

“He panicked!” I added, giggling. “Tried to act like they hadn’t met before.”

“I had no idea!” Isack groaned. “You all suck.”

“I’m just saying,” Jack said, nudging Kimi. “If I found out my girlfriend’s dad was seven-time world champion Lewis Hamilton, I’d have walked straight into the Mediterranean.”

Kimi nodded, stone-faced. “We still might throw you in.”

“Please do,” Isack said, face in hands. “End it.”

Lando gave him a brotherly clap on the shoulder. “Look at it this way. You’ve already peaked. Can’t go higher than impressing Lewis Hamilton.”

Ollie leaned into me with a smirk. “You know he didn’t even realize until Lewis introduced himself back?”

I sipped my drink. “Timing is everything.”

Isack looked up at me then — red-faced, wide-eyed, but grinning. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Only a little,” I teased. “But hey — you’re handling it like a champ.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like an F1 champ or…?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jack said dryly.

Kimi cracked the faintest of smirks. “We’ll see how you qualify next weekend, Hamilton’s boyfriend.”

—

whotfisnaya

liked by isackhadjar, lando, lewishamilton & 4,389,387 others.

whotfisnaya: long story short…i love isack and isack loves my dad (the selfie is warming my heart by the second)

—

username00 : dating your idols daughter?? wasn’t familiar with your game isack

olliebearman: neither was he

whotfisnaya : oliver be nice

lewishamilton : Welcome to the family, Isack. We love you even if you are oblivious sometimes.

liked by whotfisnaya, lando, isackhadjar and olliebearman

olliebearman : is it cheating since he will be mentored by the goat?

lando : he fr just skipped ten levels

isackhadjar: love you the most even if you embarrassed me in front of my goat

liked by whotfisnaya

—

🦋🐞💋🫶🏻🧜🏻‍♀️

[notiddygothgf]

i.

★ pairings: dante (netflix dmc) x fem reader

★ summary: After a messy breakup with Dante and a year of silence, you've rebuilt your life from the ground up. Now, Dante's back, and one thing is clear — he's determined to make you his.

★ ❝ It's been exactly 365 since I've seen your face ❞

★ c.w.:dante being a little shit, suggestive content. not beta'd, reuploading bc it got taken down?

★ a/n:HIIIIIIIII!!!! okay so i put out a poll asking about how y'all would feel if i posted a dante fic, and omg. so many of you replied. so now here go ahead and take this shit!! damn!!! jk i want him so bad so yk i had to rush to get this done LMFAOOAOA. enjoy besties! if you're from around here, you know the drill. if not, please leave lots of comments, i love the spam and your praise gives me motivation to update quicker!!

★ w.c: 10k

pretty ; chapter index

YOU AND DANTE had a messy breakup. Contrary to how it may have seemed at the time of “The Argument” (as you had begun calling it), there was nothing sudden about it. It didn’t detonate like some sort of time bomb, but disintegrated rather slowly – like water trickling through the cracks in the cement, soft and patient, until one day everything just caved in.

It didn’t always feel that way.

When you had first met Dante, it was… effortless. (Some of which was the rose colored glasses’ doing, you were sure). He was cute as hell, first of all. He was funny, too. He had no problems laughing you right out of your panties on the first date, and… well, practically every night after that. He looked at you like you were everything to him – like a dream come true, like he couldn’t believe someone like you would actually have chosen him. You got along famously.

For a while, things stayed that way. Six months, in fact. Things were good. Simple. You’d wake up to his arms around you, his voice in your ear, calling you names that only sounded pretty falling from his lips – princess, babydoll, sweetheart. His stupid jokes – the ones that always used to make you crack a tired grin. He used to make time.

But, somewhere along the way, his job started taking more and more of him. Late nights began to bleed into early mornings. You’d wait up for him with leftovers gone cold and shows paused halfway through. At first, he apologized. Said he hated missing out on time with you. But then the apologies stopped, and so did the explanations. You’d go days without hearing from him. Sometimes weeks. You’d text—hey, you okay?, can you call when you're free?—and the replies would trickle in too late or not at all.

You tried to be understanding. People get busy, right? Life gets in the way. You told yourself that a strong relationship should be able to weather a few quiet days. But it was more than just quiet. It was absence. It was like he was slipping through your fingers and pretending he wasn’t.

And when you did talk, it was always surface-level. You’d try to tell him how it made you feel—how the silence scared you, how you felt like you were in this alone—and he’d get defensive. He’d say, “I’m doing my best,” or “You know how much pressure I’m under right now.” And you’d bite your tongue. You didn’t want to add to the weight on his shoulders. But the resentment kept building. You weren’t asking for the world. Just a check-in. A sign that he still remembered how to love you when things got hard.

The miscommunications started small. A forgotten anniversary dinner. A vague answer when you asked if he’d be home. But they stacked up like dominoes, one after the other, until the smallest push sent everything toppling. You both stopped speaking the same language. You’d say, “I miss you,” and he’d hear, “You’re not good enough.” He’d say, “I’m tired,” and you’d hear, “You don’t matter.”

Then came the argument. The big one. The one that split the foundation.

You were setting the table when he buzzed the apartment door.

It was 10:18 PM.

You stared at the intercom for a second before pressing the button to let him in. No words. No "I'm here" or "Sorry I'm late." Just the click of the door unlocking and silence.

You opened the door before he could knock. Dante stepped in looking like hell—literal hell. Blood on his sleeve, eyes sunken from lack of sleep, hair damp like he’d tried to rinse off whatever mess he’d walked through before coming to you. He smelled like copper and smoke and exhaustion.

Still, your heart lifted for a beat just seeing him. Stupid, soft reflex.

“Hey,” you said.

He nodded. “Hey.”

You stepped aside and let him in. He didn’t kiss you. Didn’t touch you. Just dropped his duffel by the door like he was clocking out of something. The sight of him like this—tired, distant, barely standing—it tugged at something in your chest.

“I made dinner,” you said, a little too hopeful. “It’s probably cold by now, but—”

“I’m not hungry,” he cut in, already moving toward the couch.

You stood in the kitchen for a second, hands still resting on the back of one of the chairs. Watching him. He sat with a grunt, elbows on knees, head in his hands like gravity was pressing harder than usual. You knew that posture. It meant don’t ask questions. Don’t start anything. Just let him sit in the silence.

But tonight… you couldn’t.

It had been a week. A week without him. A week of one-word texts, unanswered calls, and too many nights alone, replaying old conversations in your head trying to figure out when exactly he started slipping through your fingers.

“I waited,” you said softly. “I thought you were coming at eight.”

He didn’t look at you. “Got held up.”

You waited. Hoped for more. An apology. An explanation. Something that showed he realized this mattered.

Nothing.

You took a slow breath. “Dante… you can’t keep doing this.”

That made him lift his head, eyes hazy with irritation. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Ghosting me for a week. Showing up in the middle of the night like it’s nothing. Acting like I’m just supposed to—what? Pretend we’re fine?”

His jaw tensed. “I’ve been working.”

“I know,” you said, voice sharper than you meant. “I know you’ve been working. Risking your life. I get it. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t care when you disappear. I can’t keep sitting alone in this apartment wondering if you’re alive.”

He blinked, like the words didn’t land right. Or like he didn’t want them to.

“You think I enjoy this?” he muttered. “You think I like being stuck in some sewer for three days bleeding out while some freak tries to tear me apart?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You have no idea what it’s like out there.”

“No,” you snapped, stepping forward. “But I know what it’s like in here. Waiting. Checking my phone every five minutes. Making excuses for you. Pretending this doesn’t hurt because I’m scared if I say the wrong thing, you’ll just disappear again.”

He stood then, sudden and sharp. “You think I want to be like this?”

“I think you don’t know how to let people in,” you said, quieter now. “And I think I’ve been trying so damn hard to hold onto something that doesn’t want to be held.”

He stared at you, breathing hard, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” he said finally.

“I didn’t cook for someone who wasn’t going to show up,” you said.

The room went still.

He looked away first. Scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m tired.”

“So am I.”

Your voice cracked on that last word, and he looked at you again—really looked this time. And for a second, something in him softened. Like he saw the version of you that wasn’t angry or nagging or dramatic. Just hurting.

But he didn’t reach for you.

Didn’t say I’m sorry.

Didn’t say I missed you.

Just ran a hand through his hair and said, “Maybe this isn’t working.”

Not working?

Not working?

“You can’t be serious,” You huffed out a bitter laugh. Dante reached for you. You swatted him away. “You… We’ve been together for six months. What the fuck do you mean “Maybe this isn’t working”?”

He stood before you with his arms crossed, white hair still disheveled from his day, eyes narrowed, jaw ticked. “I mean that this…” He answered, gesturing to the space between you and him. “Isn’t working out. I don’t think– I can’t…” He swallowed, “I can’t be the man you need me to be. Not right now.”

“You’re gonna give up on us? Just like that?” You continued, still, with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Then, you stepped forward, raising a hand to reach out for him, “I love you, Dante. You’re not gonna fight for us?”

“This isn’t love,” He spoke, tone final, but the slightest trembling breath beneath his words betrayed his true feelings. His fingers slipped into his hair, trembling as they carded through his white locks and tugged at his roots. “Look at you– you don’t even see the problem. You shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not your boyfriend is gonna come back alive. You shouldn’t have to put your whole life on hold for me. You still have the whole world to see. I don’t want to have to live a double life anymore.”

“Then let me in!” You hissed back. Your arms were crossed, too. “Do you think I like feeling as if I don’t know the man I love? I could take some of the burden off your shoulders, Dante, if you just–”

“Enough,” Dante sucked his teeth. “I don’t want you wasting your life away worrying over me,” After a lengthy pause, he continued, “All we ever do is fight and fight and fight– I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore, not with you. You’d be much happier without me.”

He was probably right.

“Oh, fuck you,” you shouted, your voice cracking with fury, but even then, it wasn’t enough to hide the way your heart was shattering inside your chest. When your eyes finally met his, you knew he felt the heat of it—anger and hurt and betrayal, all coiled together like fire licking at his skin.

“You’re not going to decide what’s best for me.”

“Yes, I am,” he snapped, cold and absolute.

You took a step forward, trembling, jaw clenched so tight you thought it might break. “You don’t know what’s good for my well-being,” you bit back, chest heaving. “You don’t even know what’s good for your well-being.”

That hit him. You saw it in the way his lips pressed into a thin line, how his teeth caught the inside of his cheek like he was chewing on the guilt. Then he said the words that broke you:

“You could be so much happier without me.”

And just like that, everything inside you stopped.

Something in your gaze must’ve shifted then—something that startled even him. Because the anger didn’t burn quite as bright anymore. The fire was still there, but it flickered lower, smothered by something glassy, something wet clinging to your lashes. It was hurt. Real hurt. Deep, bone-deep heartbreak that swelled until your chest couldn’t contain it.

“Baby…” he sighed, and for the first time, his voice wasn’t sharp. His shoulders dropped like the weight of his decision had finally started to crush him. “I’m sorry. You know I love you. I just… I can’t live with myself knowing that one day I might not come back to you.”

You didn’t say it back.

Not this time.

Even if you wanted to. Even if your love for him still pulsed through every inch of your body, even if it begged for a reason to stay—how could you keep loving someone who was walking away from you like this?

Your lips parted, dry and trembling. You licked them slowly, like maybe the right words would come if you just gave them time. But all you could manage, hoarse and raw, was: “Take your shit…” You swallowed hard. God, it hurt. It hurt worse than anything he could’ve done. “And go.”

He froze.

“What?” he asked, stunned, like he hadn’t expected you to mean it. Like he thought you’d plead. Cry. Kiss him one more time just to remember what it felt like. Like you’d make it easier for him to leave you.

But you didn’t.

“I said…” You looked up at him, every inch of you on fire, your arms folded so tight across your chest they ached. You could feel yourself shaking—fists clenched, breath shallow. “Take your shit… and get the fuck out of my apartment.”

And you meant it.

Even if it destroyed you.

You saw the pain in his eyes then. The flicker of disbelief. The way his entire world seemed to crumble at your feet. Two years. Two whole years. Twenty-four months of laughter, late nights, shared secrets, and silent apologies. A thousand soft I love yous whispered between sheets. A thousand more unspoken.

Was he second-guessing it now? Did he finally realize what he was throwing away?

YOU

|  Guys we’re going out tn.

When you reached the bar, it was still early. There were a few people here, but not too many. The low murmur of voices and clinking glasses provided the background noise that you desperately craved.

You grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey, the burn in your throat just sharp enough to make you feel something—anything, really. It felt like you were drinking to forget, and the first sip seemed to help, dulling the edges of the ache, if only for a moment.

Your friends noticed you as soon as they walked in. They must have heard the difference in your voice when you answered their text. They could tell something was off, but they didn’t press. Not immediately.

The first drink turned into another. And another. You weren’t trying to get drunk; you were just trying to escape. To lose yourself in the clinking of ice cubes, in the low hum of the bar, in something that wasn’t him. But as the minutes passed, the alcohol didn’t do much to stop your thoughts from spiraling back to him.

You thought about the night before. The argument. His face, so conflicted, yet resolute. The way he walked away without even a second glance, as if he knew the decision he was making was the right one. How could he be so sure? How could he leave you like that?

“Another?” one of your friends asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. She was smiling, but there was a glimmer of concern in her eyes.

You didn’t even think about it before nodding. “Yeah,” you said, a forced smile on your lips. "Just one more."

You didn’t want to talk about Dante. Not yet. You didn’t want to explain to anyone why you felt like the world had been yanked out from under you. But it didn’t matter. Your friends could see it in your eyes. They didn’t need you to say a word.

No, a year ago, your life changed.

So, you can imagine how it felt to walk home from a day spent at the grocery store, bags tucked beneath your arms, and see him standing there.

Dante.

It had been a year since you’d last seen him, and you were doing just fine. Really. A little grocery shopping to get your mind off the usual stuff, a bag of chips here, some pasta there. You didn’t need Dante in your life anymore, and if you were being honest, you were doing better without him. You had a boyfriend now, someone who didn’t make you question your sanity. Things were... uncomplicated.

That was until you turned the corner and saw him.

Dante. Standing there across the street, looking like he’d just stepped out of a scene from some movie you hadn’t signed up for. There he was, all messy hair and that familiar red coat, like he didn’t have a care in the world. You froze for a second, staring at him as if your eyes were playing tricks. Was he actually here? In your world, in your life, right now?

Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? The universe had a sick sense of humor.

You immediately felt that familiar wave of annoyance—was it even annoyance? Maybe it was exhaustion, or some mix of both. You adjusted the grocery bags under your arms and took a deep breath. You were doing just fine. He was not about to mess with your day.

But Dante, being Dante, didn’t just stand there. No, he was coming toward you now, his long stride eating up the space between you with an unsettling familiarity.

Great, you thought, shifting the weight of your bags to one side as if they were the only thing that mattered right now. But in truth, you were already calculating the best possible escape route. The crosswalk? Too far. The alley to your left? Maybe, but the sidewalk was too narrow. Okay, girl. Focus.

You picked up the pace, shifting into a power walk as though your life depended on it. Sure, you looked a little ridiculous, but it was a small price to pay for a little peace and quiet. You weren’t looking back. Not now.

Behind you, you could hear Dante’s footsteps closing in, his voice trailing after you, “Hey, wait up!”

But you didn’t wait up. No way.

You’d moved on. You had a boyfriend now, someone who would never make you feel like a damn emotional rollercoaster. Someone who didn’t show up after a year of radio silence with that same unreadable stare, acting like nothing happened. No, Dante. No thank you.

Still, you could hear his footsteps, gaining on you. It was like an unspoken challenge. You had to admit, he wasn’t slow. But neither were you. You adjusted the bags once again—damn, this was turning into a workout—and picked up the pace.

You weren’t going to make it easy for him. You weren’t even going to acknowledge the way your heart still remembered his presence, the way it beat a little faster the closer he got. You weren't going to let yourself get sucked back into that mess.

His voice was closer now. “Come on, just—”

A sigh. You were really doing this, weren’t you?

A glance over your shoulder, just a quick flick of the eyes to see how much ground he’d covered, and what do you know? He was right behind you now, practically breathing down your neck. “I’m just trying to catch up, alright?”

Catch up? You weren’t sure whether to laugh or groan at that. This wasn’t a race, Dante, and you didn’t need a personal trainer chasing you down the sidewalk. You could already feel the annoying tightness in your chest. The one that had always been there whenever he was around, the one that reminded you of how difficult it had been to move on in the first place.

He was getting too close for comfort now, and you could already tell this wasn’t going to end well if you kept this pace. So, against every instinct telling you to keep walking, you slowed down just enough for him to catch up. You didn’t want to, but here he was, breathing like he’d run a marathon just to get you to stop. And for what? So he could talk?

He stopped beside you, his eyes searching your face with that all-too-familiar intensity. His chest heaved slightly, probably from the exertion, but you’d be damned if you showed any signs of weakness.

For a second, he just stood there, catching his breath. You, on the other hand, kept your eyes straight ahead, acting like you hadn’t just sprinted for your life.

“Alright, listen,” he said, voice softer now, “I know I messed up. But can we at least—”

You didn’t even look at him as you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I can’t. I have to go.”

And that was that. You didn’t need to say anything else. You couldn’t afford to.

You were done.

That night, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hair tied up into a neat little bonnet. The faucet was running – lukewarm water trickling out – but you weren’t washing up. No, you were standing there, letting the water drip down your eyes, your cheeks, your neck. You were staring at your tired reflection.

You should’ve been washing away the exhaustion of the day, but instead, you just let it fall over you, droplets slipping down your face, down your chest, almost as if you were trying to wash away the past.

But you couldn’t. No matter how much water hit your skin, how much you scrubbed away at your tired reflection, you couldn’t erase him. Dante. He was there, in the back of your mind, in the way your pulse quickened when you saw him again, after all this time. It had been a year, and yet, when you looked at him across the street, the world seemed to stop for a moment. It was like stepping back into a dream.

You hadn’t realized how much of your heart you’d given to him, how much of yourself you’d let him take. And then, nothing. No texts, no calls, no explanation. Just silence, stretching on for months, the gap between you two growing wider, until you started to convince yourself that maybe that was for the best. Maybe you were better off without him, your life finally starting to take shape without the constant ache of waiting for him to come back, to acknowledge the mess he left behind.

Cupping your hands beneath the faucet, you splashed some more water onto your face. God, I need therapy.

But, being that your current rent situation didn’t exactly permit a visit to the psychologist at the moment, you threw your favorite fuzzy robe over your satin cami and shorts, popping your feet into your beat up pink slippers. You shuffled right over to your bedroom and plopped down onto the bed, limbs falling uselessly to the mattress.

Kill me, you thought.

That wasn’t viable, though. So, instead, you reached into your nightstand (past the vibrator you had bought eight months ago during the worst part of your dry streak) and pulled out a sheet mask. Biting into the package, you opened it and pulled the slimy thing out. The serum melted into your skin as you laid it over your face, leaning your head back against the pillows and relaxing for the first time in what felt like ages.

Your head was blissfully empty. There were no thoughts of men with precarious jobs and swords and… devilishly handsome faces. No, it was just you. You and your favorite pajamas and your favorite skincare routine.

You flicked the TV on. You didn’t have to change it back to your favorite channel. No, that was the glory of having a shitty little apartment in the city to yourself. It was on the same channel you left off on – your favorite drama.

The characters buzzed to life. You set the remote down and watched.

The characters on screen started a new conflict, one that you knew would keep you hooked for the next hour. You sank deeper into the couch, letting the familiar warmth of your apartment wash over you. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of quiet that only comes when you're truly alone.

Then, the sound came. A soft knock at the window outside your room, followed by a long, drawn-out silence. Your heart skipped, the peace broken. You froze, eyes still locked on the TV, the characters' voices fading into the background as your mind reeled. It was too late for anyone to be outside. Too late for anything normal to be happening. Another knock, louder this time. A rhythmic tap that sent a shiver down your spine. You slowly turned your head toward the window, your pulse quickening.

Oh, God, you thought. I’m going to die.

Still, because you couldn’t exactly ignore the sound, you slid out of your warm, comfortable bed and into your slippers once more. Then, hesitating every single step of the way, you snuck into the living room, glancing around in search of the source of the sound.

Another knock. This one louder. You held your breath, hand hovering just above the blinds. It was coming from outside. No one else came to your apartment at this hour. You knew who it had to be.

You glanced down.

There, crouched on the balcony just below your window, was Dante. His face was half-lit by the streetlights, a little smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he waved at you. As if it was the most normal thing in the world, like he hadn’t disappeared for an entire year. Like you hadn’t spent every sleepless night wondering if he was dead or alive, missing his presence as if your heart had been torn in half.

The audacity of it. There he was, grinning like nothing had changed. His hair was messy, his eyes gleaming with that same mischievous spark that used to drive you crazy. The same spark that made your chest ache, even now.

“He cannot be serious,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, but he caught it, his grin widening.

You could almost feel his eyes on you, waiting, daring you to say something. But you couldn’t. What could you even say?

All you could do was crack the window open.

“Sorry,” He huffed out a laugh. A familiar one. One you… kinda missed, actually. “I tried calling, but I think you blocked my number.”

“I got a new phone,” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make this situation any better – as if you would open your eyes and he wouldn’t be here.

But he was. 

“What the fuck are you even doing here– I mean– the balcony, Dante, really?” You threw your hands out, eyes full of exasperation. “You could have knocked at the door like a normal person.”

“Would you have answered?” He asked. “If you knew it was me?”

“Probably not,” You replied honestly. “I should leave you out here to freeze to death.”

“Oh, right, about that,” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head abashedly. The entire encounter was so absurd that a part of you firmly believed you were dreaming. “I found out I’m, like… half demon. Crazy, right? So I don’t think I would freeze to death. Demon stamina, or whatever.”

Demon stamina. You thought. Right. Definitely awake right now.

Still, that would certainly explain his… endurance.

“Okay…” You had many, many questions, but that was the only thing you could muster, “Should I be… scared?”

What the fuck is going on?

In all honesty, if he told you that the world was ending tomorrow, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“Nah,” He waved your concerns away with the back of his hand. “I’d never hurt you. Except for… well, when I broke up with you. That’s why I came here, actually. Sorry about that. I’ve done some reflection and I…” Suddenly appearing rather nervous, he trailed off, “I fucked up. I was a real asshole to you back then. God, this is hard.”

Your arms dropped to your sides as you stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “You’re… ridiculous.”

“I know,” Dante said, hands up like he was surrendering. “But hear me out—”

“No, no. You don’t get to just Spider-Man your way onto my balcony, confess your demon heritage, and then act like this is normal,” you said, pointing to him like you were trying to make sense of a hallucination. “You broke up with me out of nowhere. Then you vanished. For a year, Dante. Not a word. Not even a shitty text.”

“I didn’t have a phone,” he replied, offended. “I was on a mission. I was in Hell.”

You snorted. “Oh, please.”

He blinked at you. Then, very seriously, he hissed out, “No, I was literally in Hell. For a year. You can’t imagine what that was like for me.”

“Oh my god.” You pressed your fingers to your temples. “You’re insane. Hell? Really?”

“I’m not making it up! You think I wanted to ghost you for twelve months?”

“Well, you kind of did. You broke up with me, remember?” You crossed your arms. “Said I should forget you. That I should move on.”

A pregnant pause.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he muttered.

“Well, congrats. I moved on. I did the whole crying on the bathroom floor thing, I got a therapist, I drank my sorrows away, I bought this plant—” You gestured wildly at the lonely fern in the corner. “His name is Rico. And he’s thriving. Without you.”

Rico was not, in fact, thriving. He was an exotic plant. One you had purchased on impulse at a farmer’s market that you definitely should have researched prior. He wasn’t doing too well cooped up inside of your apartment in New York City. Who would?

Dante crouched down, tilting his head, squinting at Rico. “Looks a little dehydrated.”

You glared. “So do you. What do you even want, Dante?”

His mouth opened, then closed. He looked down for a second, suddenly quiet. “I want a do-over.”

You stared at him.

“I didn’t have much control over the whole… trapped-in-hell thing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck again, “but I wasn’t happy with how we ended things. I could’ve been better to you. I kept rehearsing what I’d say to you if I ever saw you again, but I wasn’t expecting it to actually happen.”

He’s not being serious

… Is he?

One look at him, and you knew he was.

You let out a long, flat breath. “We can’t.”

“Why?”

You raised your brows. “Because we can’t,” you said again, quieter this time. And this time, it hurt.

“Why?” He asked, as if you hadn’t made yourself perfectly clear. “I’ve changed, honest. The past year I spent without you, I realized how good you were to me. How I took you for granted – I don’t wanna let you go. I don’t wanna make the same mistake twice.”

Aw, you thought, That’s… kinda sweet, actually.

No. Stop that.

Instead, you propped your hand up on your hip, “Does that mean you won’t be here on my balcony ever again?”

He paused, pursed his lips. “Okay, maybe I would,” He finally admitted. “But if you would let me in–”

You cut him off right then and there, rolling your eyes. “I can’t, Dante. I have a fucking boyfriend.”

That hit its mark.

His mouth opened, then closed again. The silence that followed made you uncomfortable in a way only Dante could manage—equal parts awkward and guilty. He looked down at the floor of the balcony like maybe it had some hidden message for him.

“Oh…” he murmured. “Oh. You… You really moved on.”

“Something like that.” You shrugged, trying not to sound as tired as you felt. “That’s what happens when you disappear for a year. Life goes on.”

“Not for me,” he muttered, lips curling downward into a pout that would’ve been funny if it didn’t come attached to so much damn history. “Fuck that guy. I could treat you way better, honest.” Then he added, almost too fast, like it slipped out before he could filter it, “I could probably fuck you better, too—”

He probably could. Honestly, your current sex life with your current boyfriend wasn’t the greatest. Still, he was consistent. He didn’t leave you hanging for nights in a row, wondering if he would come home. Not to mention the fact that, when you were with Dante, well…

You had some of the loveliest orgasms you had ever had. On the bed, on the floor, on the kitchen counter. The kind of orgasm you hadn’t achieved once since he had left. Not with your vibrator, and certainly not with your new boyfriend.

Your stare could’ve burned through glass. “I have to be up early tomorrow.”

He had the decency to look vaguely ashamed, but not enough to shut up. “Did you come here just to ask for a do-over?” you asked, already backing toward the window.

“No,” he said, and then paused. “Yes. I don’t know. Maybe.”

You almost respected his commitment. Almost.

You didn’t respond right away, just stared at him— hair as white as starlight, red leather coat, sword still strapped to his back, ridiculous expression like he genuinely thought charm could undo the year-long hole he’d left in your life. The silence made him fidget, scuffing the toe of his boot against the concrete.

“What do I have to do to convince you?”

You sighed. You really sighed this time, long and from the chest, because there was no point in even pretending this wasn’t exhausting.

“Goodnight, Dante,” you said.

Then… you shut the window.

The next day came with no promises of peace.

You were behind the counter at the diner, hair tied back, apron smudged with flour, oil, and maybe a little bit of your sanity. The coffee machine hissed in protest as you filled another mug for a trucker in the corner booth. Your feet hurt. Your head hurt. But at least it was a different kind of ache than the one Dante stirred up last night.

And then, like the universe had a personal vendetta against your emotional wellbeing, the bell above the door jingled.

You didn’t have to look up.

You felt him walk in—like some twisted sixth sense. The air shifted, and you could practically smell the cologne he always wore, something smoky and leather-soft. A second later, a voice followed.

“Damn. This place got a lot prettier since I was last here.”

You looked up anyway. Because of course you did.

There he was. Dante. Leaning casually against the host stand, all devil-may-care charm and a ridiculous leather jacket that made him look like he belonged anywhere but this greasy spoon diner. His eyes found you immediately.

You blinked slowly, then turned back to the coffee pot. “I swear to God,” you muttered under your breath, “I’m gonna lose my mind.”

He strolled right up to the counter, pulling up a stool like he hadn’t trespassed on your balcony twelve hours ago. Like he hadn’t cracked open an old wound and kissed the air with apologies.

“You look good in that apron,” he said, grinning.

You didn’t bother looking at him this time. “You look like someone who doesn’t tip well.”

“I tip amazing,” he argued. “Just like I–”

“Do me a favor and don’t finish that sentence,” you warned, grabbing a towel and wiping down a clean patch of counter for the hundredth time. “Have you always been this petulant or is it something in the air?”

“I’m a lot of things,” he said, shrugging innocently. “I’m a man of many talents. Want me to prove it? I’ve got time.”

Oh my god.

You finally turned to face him. “Do you not have demons to fight or… hell dimensions to get trapped in again?”

He laughed. “You remembered.”

You deadpanned, “How could I forget? It’s not every day your ex disappears into Hell without a cell phone.”

Dante lifted his hands like he was surrendering. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair. But look—I just thought we could talk. Maybe over some waffles? Syrup fixes a lot.”

You were already shaking your head. “No. Nope. I’m not doing this with you. Not here.”

“I’ll be good,” he said, drawing an imaginary halo over his head with his fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout,” you replied flatly.

“And you were never this mean to me,” he said with mock hurt.

“You were never this annoying. Go piss off somewhere. You had no problems leaving me alone for a year,” you shot back. Then you waved down one of your coworkers—a sweet girl named Lila with a bright smile and no idea what kind of emotional tornado she was about to serve.

“Hey, Lila?” you called. “Can you take counter stool three for me?”

She blinked. “Uh, sure. You okay?”

“Peachy,” you said, handing her a menu. “He’s all yours.”

Dante blinked as Lila approached with her notepad, looking confused and a little betrayed. “Wait, seriously?”

You leaned over the counter slightly, voice low. “You want waffles? Order them. You want closure? Write a poem.”

And then you walked away. You didn’t look back. You didn’t have to. The ache in your chest was enough to tell you exactly what kind of expression he wore.

The living room was dark, lit only by the bluish haze of the TV screen flashing between killstreaks and loading screens. Your boyfriend was sunk deep into the couch, legs wide, controller gripped like a lifeline. He hadn’t looked at you in over twenty minutes, completely absorbed in his game, spewing half-hearted trash talk at some twelve-year-old with better aim and a louder mic.

You shifted beside him, stretching a little, brushing your leg against his. Nothing. So you leaned over, nuzzling your nose lightly against his neck, just beneath his jaw.

“Hey,” you murmured, your voice soft and sweet. You let your fingers slide down his chest, slow and teasing. “Want to take a little break?”

He flinched—not from desire, but because someone on screen shot him. Again.

“Babe, not now,” he mumbled, eyes glued to the game. “I’m in ranked.”

You pulled back a bit, blinking, mouth falling open in disbelief. “Seriously?”

He didn’t look at you. Just kept clicking buttons, dead focused on the screen. “Yeah, just like… fifteen more minutes. Can you make dinner or something?”

You stared at him, chest hollowing out in quiet, stunned offense. You’d offered him your body. He asked for food.

There was a moment of silence. Your hand dropped from his chest.

You sat back against the cushion, a little colder now, teeth pressing into your bottom lip. And that was when Dante’s voice—his voice—echoed in your head from the night before.

“Fuck that guy. I could treat you way better, honest. I could probably fuck you better, too—”

You closed your eyes briefly, scoffing under your breath. God, he was ridiculous. And yet…

You pushed yourself off the couch wordlessly, heading to the kitchen without a sound.

Behind you, your boyfriend called out, “You’re the best, babe!”

You didn’t answer. Not with words. Just slammed the fridge door a little harder than necessary.

And in the back of your mind, Dante's voice lingered like a splinter.

You turned the stove on, lips pressed into a thin, tired line. Maybe later you’d lie down and try to remember what it felt like to be romanced by someone who didn’t treat Call of Duty like a second girlfriend.

One incredibly sexless night later, you took the evening to decompress. That is, you lit up some candles, had a few slices of the pie you’d kept in your fridge for days just like this one, and blocked off an hour for the sole purpose of masturbation. 

What? You needed it.

The apartment was warm, dimly lit, perfectly still. You’d even put your phone on Do Not Disturb, because tonight was about you. Your fingers itched with anticipation as you laid out your night like a ritual: the robe slipping lower on your shoulder, the cool sheets turned down, your favorite toy already waiting on the nightstand like a promise.

God. You needed this. You were wound tight. Between work, the complete lack of passion from the man you were dating, and that absolutely deranged balcony visit from Dante… you were more than pent up. You were practically vibrating with unmet desire.

You let out a long, dramatic exhale, sinking down into your mattress with the kind of grace usually reserved for tragic heroines. Just you, a flickering candle, and the fantasy of literally anyone but your boyfriend.

You reached for the waistband of your pajama shorts.

Knock, knock.

Your hand froze.

You stared at the ceiling. Maybe it was a neighbor. Maybe someone had the wrong door.

Knock, knock. Louder this time. Three slow raps, followed by silence.

You sat up slowly, groaning into the air. Then, begrudgingly, you stuffed your vibrator back into the drawer, kicking your feet over the edge of the bed and walking into the living room. It was dark, of course, so you flicked on a light. When you stared into the peephole of your front door, it took all of the strength you had to not bang your head against the door.

It was Dante. Again. No leather jacket this time, just a black hoodie, hands jammed into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You blinked, then groaned into the back of your hand.

Another knock, like he heard you. And then, muffled through the wood, his voice.

“I can hear you in there. Demon hearing, remember?” He brought his head up to the peephole, staring right back at you. “I know it’s late, Just… let me talk to you? For just a second? Please?”

You pulled the door open.

Dante stood there in the dim hallway light, hair windswept, hands in his pockets like he’d been pacing outside for a while, working up the nerve. His gaze moved over your face with a kind of stunned reverence, like he hadn’t really believed he’d see you again.

“Hey, princess,” he said.

There it was. That nickname. The one you hadn’t heard in a year.

You stepped aside without a word. He walked in like the place still remembered him. Or maybe you did.

The door clicked shut behind you.

You didn’t speak. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight over your chest, watching him watch the room like it had changed without him. It had. You had. But he still looked at you like he saw the girl you were a year ago. That girl who let him ruin her, and smiled while doing it.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he said, voice low. “I tried.”

“Did you?” You answered.

“Okay, not really,” He looked at you again, more serious now. “I keep thinking about you. All the time. You’re in my head constantly, like—fuck—I’ll be walking down the street and I’ll see something and just need to tell you about it.”

You laughed. Just once. It came out bitter and exhausted. “Keep it to yourself.”

“I missed talking to you about anything,” he said. “Everything.”

You shook your head, pushing off the wall, pacing just a little—like if you kept moving, you wouldn’t fall for this again. “You don’t get to come back after vanishing for a year and say shit like that.”

“I know. I know I don’t,” he said quickly, stepping toward you. “But I can’t pretend anymore. I’ve been trying to act like– like I’m not completely in love with you still, and it’s killing me.”

Your breath caught.

After all of this time?

His hands reached for yours before you could stop him. You let him take them.

Okay… what the fuck is going on?

“You deserve someone who sees you. Someone who treats you like you matter every second of the day,” he said. “Someone who doesn’t take you for granted. I could be that. I want to be that.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Because you’d heard those words before, from people who never meant them. From the person you’d curled up beside just last night, feeling more alone than ever. And yet here Dante was, saying all the right things—but he hadn’t even asked. He didn’t know.

He didn’t know how long it had been since someone had touched you like they meant it.

Your voice came out hoarse. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” he whispered. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I think about you when I’m trying to sleep. I think about your laugh. Your stupid, shitty taste in TV. Your coffee order. The movies you like. I want that back. I want you back.”

You yanked your hands away, jaw tight.

He’s got a lot of fucking nerve.

“Don’t do this,” you said. “Don’t show up and say these things and make me feel like this again. You don’t even know what you left behind.”

He looked at you, eyes open and raw. “Then tell me. Let me make it right.”

“Go away, Dante.” you snapped.

Silence fell between you like a slammed door. You turned your back to him, trying to catch your breath.

Then he stepped in behind you.

Not touching, not quite—but close enough that you felt the heat of him. Close enough that your body remembered every inch of him like a phantom limb. 

“Hey,” he murmured. “I know I fucked up. Can you be… like, not so mad? Just for two seconds?”

His hand slid to your hip, turning you gently toward him. You let him, still trembling, still so full of everything you never got to say.

“I’ve been in love with you this whole time,” he whispered. “And I’m so fucking sorry.”

The words were genuine. Genuine enough that you felt the tears begin to prickle at your eyes all over again – emotional at the mere thought of him, because truthfully?

You missed him, too. You just didn’t want to admit it. You missed the late nights and later mornings. You missed waking up next to him, hearing him talk about his crazy adventures as a demon hunter. You missed his kisses, the smell of him, his everything.

And, God, the sex… The sex was great.

He was taller than you. Always had been. But in that moment, it felt impossible not to notice how much he towered over you—how his shadow swallowed yours, how the air itself seemed to dip around him. You didn’t want to look up at him, but you did.

You stood frozen, breath shallow, pulse racing in your throat. You didn’t want this. You shouldn’t want this. But here you were, locked in place, every part of you screaming to walk away, and every part of you still craving the comfort of his touch.

“Please…” You whispered, trying to fight the overwhelming tide of emotion. “Please, Dante. Just go.”

His expression softened, like he hadn’t expected that—like he was expecting something more. You felt his fingers on your waist now, and they were warm, pressing gently into your skin. There was no escape now. You weren’t sure you wanted to run anymore, not when it felt like your body was already betraying you.

“I shouldn’t be here, I know,” he said, his voice quieter now. The distance between you seemed to vanish with each word. “But I couldn’t stay away. I tried to forget about you, I tried so damn hard, but I couldn’t. I don’t want to.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “Don’t, Dante. I can’t… I can’t do this.”

His eyes searched yours, the guilt and longing mixing together in a way that made your heart ache. He was close now, so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. You knew what was coming, but you didn’t stop him. Not yet.

“I know I fucked up,” he whispered again, more softly this time. “But I love you. I never stopped. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t. I just—I can’t be without you.”

And then, without waiting for another word, he leaned in.

His lips touched yours, slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. You didn’t stop him. For that moment, for that brief, heart-stopping moment, you let yourself fall back into the pull of him. Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his jacket like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

God, I missed this.

You melted against him, a wave of relief crashing over you as his kiss deepened, more urgent, more desperate. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, and you responded without thinking, your body moving instinctively against his. He groaned low in his throat, his hand sliding to your neck, the other pressing you closer.

You kissed him back like you were starving, like you had been dying for this. And for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered—like the last year of silence, the hurt, the betrayal, all of it faded away in the heat of his mouth on yours.

But then, just as quickly as the warmth had started, it turned cold.

You pulled away, gasping for air. Your chest heaved with the sudden rush of emotion. You couldn’t do this. Not again. Not after everything. Your hands shook as you pushed against his chest, creating just enough space to break the connection.

“No,” you said, your voice breaking as you stepped back, wiping at your eyes. “No. I can’t do this. I won’t.”

He blinked at you, stunned, his face pale, but he didn’t move. His eyes were full of confusion, pain, and something darker that you didn’t want to see.

“I can’t,” you repeated, voice steadying with every word. You took another step back, hand reaching for the door. “We can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

There it was.

“I’m sorry, Dante,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I really am.”

He stared at you for a long moment, and for the briefest second, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes – something devastating.

But then, he nodded. The motion was slow, almost resigned, and he took a step back. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door. As he passed you, he stopped for a moment, his gaze lingering on you one last time.

“I got a new phone. Same number,” he said, his voice raw. “You know who to call if you change your mind.”

And then, he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening.

You were sitting on the couch, the faint sounds of your boyfriend’s video game drifting from the other room, mingling with the hum of the refrigerator. You hated that noise—hated the sound of him so effortlessly immersed in a world that wasn’t yours, that didn’t care about the growing tension between the two of you. You tried to focus on the TV, tried to let the sitcom's canned laughter drown out the gnawing discomfort in your stomach. But it wasn’t working. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Dante had said.

I could treat you so much better.

Those words. God, they kept coming back to you. You didn’t want them to. You didn’t want to feel them pushing into every corner of your mind, making you question everything you thought you knew. But they did. And you were alone with those thoughts now. Alone with your insecurities that you usually kept locked away.

You huffed, pulling the blanket tighter around you as if it could protect you from the storm of doubt forming in your chest. You shouldn’t be thinking about him—about Dante. You should be thinking about how your boyfriend had been in and out of your life, barely there, barely present, always distracted. But the longer you sat there, the more it seemed like it was all just a reflection of the way you felt inside: disconnected, hollowed out, drifting.

And then, as if fate was timing it just perfectly, he left his phone on the counter.

Your breath caught, the phone staring at you like a challenge, like an invitation. You told yourself you wouldn’t. You promised you wouldn’t invade his privacy like this. But your fingers itched to touch it, to confirm the sinking feeling in your stomach that something—someone—wasn't right.

You pushed yourself off the couch, the decision feeling both slow and inevitable as you walked toward the kitchen. The phone sat innocently on the counter, waiting. You took a breath, a shaky, hesitant inhale. You could walk away. You could pretend you didn’t see it.

But you didn’t.

You picked it up, unlocking it with a simple swipe. Your heart hammered in your chest, adrenaline kicking in as if you were about to do something reckless. The phone screen lit up with messages from some unnamed number. And when you saw the first message, your throat tightened.

"I miss you so much. When can I see you again?"

It hit you hard. Like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t even had time to react before your eyes were scanning the next message, then the next, your stomach sinking deeper and deeper with every word.

“Last night was incredible. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

A sharp, painful gasp escaped you before you could stop it. You clutched the phone tighter, staring at the words, and then—bam—it all crashed into you. You hadn’t been wrong. You hadn’t been imagining the distance, the emotional coldness that had settled between you and your boyfriend. There it was, in black and white—proof of his betrayal.

You felt like you were drowning, suffocating under the weight of it all. This wasn’t just about the messages. It was about everything. About the endless late nights when he came home late from “work,” about the weekends when he’d disappear into his own world, leaving you to figure out where you fit into it. And now this—this confirmation that the man you had been with for so long wasn’t who you thought he was.

You could almost hear Dante’s voice again in your head. I could treat you so much better. The words felt like salt in a wound you hadn’t even realized you had, their presence almost suffocating in the quiet of your kitchen. Were you settling? Were you really going to let this happen? Let yourself get swallowed by someone who couldn’t even give you the decency of respect?

You exhaled sharply, your pulse quickening as the next message flashed on the screen.

“I can’t wait to see you again, babe.”

Babe.

The word made you sick, twisting your stomach into knots. You didn’t know why it bothered you so much—maybe because it wasn’t meant for you. Maybe because it was meant for someone else. Someone who got his attention, who got his time, his affection. It wasn’t you. You were just the woman he settled for, the one who wasn’t good enough for the effort.

The room felt too small, the air too thick, and you suddenly hated everything about this moment. The phone in your hand, the pit in your stomach, the way you had let things go on for this long. You could feel the tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You weren’t going to cry over this. You weren’t going to let him have that power over you.

But just as quickly, the rush of hurt was replaced by something else—a sharp anger that burned through you like fire. You weren’t going to keep doing this. You weren’t going to keep letting him make you feel small. You weren’t going to keep standing by, pretending that nothing was wrong when everything was falling apart around you.

You weren’t going to be the backup. The woman who stayed even though she knew she deserved more.

The sound of footsteps from the other room snapped you out of your thoughts, and you shoved the phone down onto the counter, just as your boyfriend entered the kitchen. His voice was casual, too casual, as if nothing had changed.

“Hey, babe. You alright?” He asked, glancing over at you.

You didn’t respond right away. You just stared at him, your chest tight with all the words you didn’t want to say, the emotions you didn’t know how to handle.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The raw anger, the aching disappointment—it was all building up inside you, suffocating you. You stood there in the kitchen, phone still in your hand, his lies echoing in your mind. Every text, every word, had become a blade, slicing through your trust, through your relationship. And now, standing face-to-face with him, it all came to a boiling point.

You couldn’t help it.

You walked up to him, eyes burning with fury, and before he could even open his mouth to explain himself, your hand shot out. The slap echoed through the small apartment, sharp and loud, breaking the tense silence between you.

His head jerked to the side from the impact. He didn’t even seem surprised. But you could see the flicker of guilt in his eyes. Too late for that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your voice trembled with rage as the words spilled out. “You think I wouldn’t find out? You think I’m some kind of idiot, just sitting here while you lie to my face?”

He reached up, touching his cheek, and for a moment, he looked almost confused. “What the hell are you talking abou–”

“No.” You cut him off, stepping back, trying to breathe, to stop the angry tears from spilling over. “Don’t even try. I’ve been here, okay? I’ve been here, giving you everything, and this is how you repay me?”

You could feel the walls around you closing in. The kitchen—the place where you had made so many meals together, laughed together, fought together—it suddenly felt suffocating. This wasn’t your home anymore. It wasn’t the place you thought it was.

“I trusted you,” you spat, your voice cracking. “I trusted you, and you went behind my back. All this time, you were texting her—her—while I was sitting here, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.”

His eyes widened, but then he scoffed, trying to brush it off. “Come on, it’s not like that. She’s just—”

“Don’t!” You interrupted again, shaking your head, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care what excuses you’ve got. I don’t want to hear how you’re ‘sorry’ and how ‘it wasn’t like that’ because it was. I saw the texts. I saw everything.”

There was a cold silence, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. He was quiet now, eyes downcast, as if he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he had no idea how to fix it—because there was no fixing it. Not this time.

“Do you even care?” You whispered, feeling the heartbreak seep into your bones. “Do you even care that you’ve been hurting me this whole time?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you could see the hesitation in his eyes. He was trying to form the right words, trying to make it sound like he cared, like he had some kind of reason, but it was too late for that.

“No,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I’m done.”

He froze. For the first time in what felt like ages, there was an almost desperate look in his eyes. “Wait—what? You can’t—”

“Don’t try to stop me.” You took a deep breath, the anger dissipating just enough to feel the weight of the pain. “I’m not staying here. I’m not going to keep putting myself through this. I’m done.”

His face fell. You could see the regret in his eyes, but you didn’t care anymore. You couldn’t. Not after everything. Not after what you’d just found out.

You turned your back on him, heading for the bedroom to grab your things. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You could feel the tension in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. Not anymore. You were done.

You grabbed your bag—your jacket, your wallet, your keys—and made your way toward the door. Every step felt heavy, like you were walking away from something you had invested so much of yourself into, and yet, there was a strange sense of relief settling in your chest. You were leaving behind a lie, a hollow version of something you had once wanted to be real. 

You were leaving him.

“Wait,” he called out, his voice strained. “Please, don’t go. We can fix this. We can talk—”

But you didn’t listen. You opened the door, stepping out into the hallway, and closed it behind you. The sound of it was final. You didn’t want to hear his excuses anymore. You didn’t want to be with someone who could betray you like this.

Still, weak thing that you were, you began to cry.

“I got a new phone. Same number,” he said, his voice raw. “You know who to call if you change your mind.”

As you walked down the hallway, your phone felt heavy in your pocket. You didn’t want to look at it. 

But then, your fingers moved of their own accord, slipping the phone out of your pocket.

And there it was: Dante’s old number.

The one you’d saved with the naive hope that he might have called. You hadn’t thought about it in a while. You hadn’t dared to reach out to him—hadn’t dared to even look at his name on your phone. But now, standing there in the hallway, your heart pounding, your chest tight from everything you’d just left behind, you thought about what he’d said to you.

I could treat you better. 

I’ve always been in love with you.

A cold shiver ran down your spine at the thought. You could still hear his voice in your head, still feel the weight of his words.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, uncertainty swirling inside you. You didn’t know why you were doing this. You didn’t know what you hoped to get from it, but you couldn’t shake the pull. You wanted—needed—someone who saw you. Someone who cared.

So, in a moment of weakness, you typed the words.

YOU: I need you.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself. The words felt foreign, too raw, too vulnerable, but you couldn’t take them back now.

a/n: ok so whenn i say this is gonna be short... i MEAN IT THIS TIME LOL..... maybe. anyway! part two is almost done, so comment what you thought, let me know what you'd like to see, what you loved, etc! until next time, my loves x not sure why this got deleted? but ok

I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

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wanna join the taglist? | pretty ; chapter index

[cherrygirlfriend]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ pilates princess

pairing: sunshine!reader x bf!rafe synopsis: rafe catches reader working out tags / warnings: fluff, smut (no actual sex but graphic descriptions of fantasies) wc: 900 a/n; this is for the pilates princesses (also originally this fic wasn't in the sunshineverse but it is now... mwahahahaha) originally posted 10/12/2024

rafe was knocking on your door impatiently, wanting to see you more than anything after the day he had, finding out that the development he had been busting his ass for for months had been delayed, but you weren't answering the door or even his texts telling you to open the door; that didn't stop him, the man knowing where your parents kept the spare key, getting it out of a pot of asterias, opening the door. you'd told him he could only use it 'only in case of emergencies', but to him, this constituted as an emergency.

rafe didn't bother to put the key back as he walked further into the house, hearing the noise of the television coming from your living room. he made his way to the living room, his eyes widening slightly when he saw exactly what had you so busy.

you were splayed on the floor, a pink workout mat underneath you, watching some workout video on your tv while your headphones were on, wearing a pair of pink fitness shorts that made your ass look so good he was almost drooling, along with a white sports bra, turned away from him, one of your hands splayed on the ground while the other one was bent on your head, one of your knees on the mat while your other was reaching up.

"jesus christ." he mumbled as he stared at you, the curve of your ass in those pink shorts causing his dick to stir in his shorts.

only a few seconds later, you moved to sit down on the mat, only to be startled by your boyfriend shamelessly ogling you, letting out a small gasp as you basically fell on your ass on the mat, your eyes widening.

you took off your headphones, throwing them onto the couch behind you, and even though your face was already warm and flushed, it seemed to get worse when you noticed him staring at you. "rafe!" you exclaimed as you stood up, his eyes now locked onto your hardened nipples under the sports bra, your tits almost pressed together, a sheen of sweat running down your cleavage.

"jesus fucking christ." he said, licking his lips slightly as you took your pink zip-up jacket and put it on, yet the way it clung to your body and the small sliver of your sports bra did almost nothing to hide how delicious you looked. "no, no, baby, don't stop on my accord." rafe grinned, his hands on your waist, aware that he was sporting a pretty obvious hard-on as he pulled you closer.

"i don't want you to see me all gross and sweaty." you pouted, and the way you sucked your lip in made nothing to calm down the obvious tent in his shorts.

"you look so fucking sexy right now." he said, pulling you closer to him, and you could feel his hard-on press against your abdomen, the blonde letting out a small groan from only that contact. "literally, i've never... jesus."

"i'm not sexy right now." you roll your eyes, pushing away a stray hair that had stuck to your cheek, trying to look down in embarrassment.

"you're kidding, right?" rafe snorted, his hand going lower and lower, almost going to the curve to your ass. "i think you can feel how sexy you look, huh?" he took hold of your chin with his fingers, and lifted it up, making you look up at him. "if you didn't want to wait longer, do you know the things i'd do to you?"

"w-what?" you asked in a way that was almost a whisper, biting your lower lip as you looked at him through your lashes.

"fuck, i'd just rip that cute little set off and take you right here on the couch. i'd make you ride me, give you a workout that's much better than this crap you're doing, your tits bouncing in my face, my hands gripping those pretty thighs... shit, i might cum just thinking about it."

you softly smacked him in the chest, feeling a warmth in your abdomen only he managed to cause, sure that you'd never blushed so hard in your life. "raafee..."

he brings your face up to his, bringing your lips to his as he bent down slightly, the kiss much more heated than any other kiss that you'd shared, his hand now on the curve of your ass, squeezing it in a way that made you gasp against his lips, his other hand now in your hair.

after a moment, you pulled away breathlessly, his erection had somehow gotten even worse than before, your lips swollen and a doe-eyed look in your eyes. "we should... uh, we should stop, since, you know..."

"yeah, i know baby." he rolled his eyes exasperatedly, before chuckling softly. "god, i'm not gonna forget this little outfit in a while. lemme take a pic of it?"

"noo, i look gross!"

"don't talk about my girl like that." he tsked, taking hold of your jaw. "come on, i need something to get myself off to later."

"alright, fine." you scoffed and rolled your eyes, before letting out a small chuckle as you started unzipping your jacket.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Max's ducklings

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max one-shot with the rookies. If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

The first time you jokingly referred to the rookies as yours and Max’s ‘kids,’ it had been just that—a joke. A harmless, offhand comment made while watching Kimi tail Max through the paddock like a lost puppy. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but then Gabriel had started tagging along too, and soon, Oliver was trailing after them both.

It became a running gag between you and Max. Every time you saw one of them lingering near your boyfriend, you’d nudge him and whisper, “Your sons are waiting for you.” Max would roll his eyes, grumble something in Dutch under his breath, and pretend not to care. But over time, the joke started feeling a little too real.

You were the one who noticed it first. Max would casually check on them in the garage, making sure they had everything they needed. He’d offer Kimi a few words of advice about tyre management, remind Gabriel to stay out of trouble on the track, and even critique Isack’s qualifying performance like a strict but well-meaning father. And it wasn’t just them—Liam, Oliver, and Jack, who had already taken their first steps in F1, had somehow joined the ever-growing group.

“They’re not my kids,” Max insisted one evening after a race, arms crossed as you teased him about it. “They’re grown men. They don’t need parents.”

You smirked, sipping from your drink. “Oh, really? Then why did you tell Kimi not to overwork his tires like that again? And why did you give Gabriel that pep talk about confidence? And why did you tell Isack to ignore the media when they criticized him?”

Max scowled, grumbling into his beer. “They’re just young. They need guidance.”

“They need parents,” you corrected playfully. “And, like it or not, you’ve become a dad.”

Max groaned dramatically, but he didn’t argue.

The paddock caught on quickly. Social media was soon flooded with memes about ‘Papa Max’ and his ‘ducklings.’ A particularly viral post had an edited picture of Max and you, your faces photoshopped onto a mother and father goose, with Kimi, Gabriel, Isack, Liam, Oliver, and Jack waddling behind you. Even Christian Horner joined in on the joke one day, patting Max on the back and saying, “How’s fatherhood treating you?”

You expected Max to brush it off, maybe even get annoyed. Instead, he just sighed and muttered, “Exhausting.”

The real shift came after a particularly rough race weekend for Isack. He had made a mistake during the race and spun out, leading to a wave of criticism online. Pundits started questioning if he was even good enough for F1, and some of the comments were downright cruel. Normally, Max stayed out of these things. He rarely engaged in media debates that didn’t involve him directly. But that day, in the middle of a press conference, a journalist brought up Isack’s struggles, asking Max if he thought the young driver was cut out for the sport.

Max’s response was immediate. “Isack is a talented driver. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. It’s easy to sit behind a screen and criticize, but racing at this level is incredibly difficult. He’s learning, like all of us did when we started.” He leaned forward slightly, gaze sharp. “Maybe people should stop expecting rookies to be perfect and let them grow.”

Your phone buzzed almost instantly with messages. ‘DAD MODE ACTIVATED’ read one from Lando. Another from Liam simply had a bunch of crying emojis.

When you saw Max later that evening, you couldn’t help but tease him. “I think that was the most dad-like thing you’ve ever done.”

Max groaned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. You defended him like a protective father.” You wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I think deep down, you love your little ducklings.”

He huffed, but there was no real irritation in it. “I just don’t like seeing young drivers get ripped apart when they’re trying their best.”

You grinned. “Uh-huh. Sure. And next, you’ll be giving them bedtime stories.”

“If they stop making stupid mistakes, maybe.”

From that moment on, Max stopped fighting the joke. He still pretended to be exasperated when the rookies stuck to him like glue, but he never turned them away. When Liam had a tough weekend, Max was the first to check in on him. When Kimi finally had a strong race, Max clapped him on the back and muttered, “See? Told you it’d come.”

One day, as you watched the six young drivers standing around Max, hanging onto his every word as he gestured animatedly about car setups, you smiled to yourself. He’d never admit it, but Max had fully embraced the role.

Later that evening, as you two walked back to the motorhome, you leaned into him with a grin. “So, how does it feel to be a dad?”

Max groaned, shaking his head. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He sighed, glancing back over his shoulder toward where the rookies still lingered in the paddock. “Fine. Maybe… maybe it’s not so bad.”

You grinned, slipping your hand into his. “Our little family.”

[excusemyobsessions]

Does that mean you love me?

Sylus x MC/You/Reader

Genre: One shot, Fluff, Gender neutral (requested) Scenario: You've been spending too much time with Mephisto and Sylus is a little jealous Word count: 1007 words

Little note: this is so cute I couldn't believe I wrote it. Enjoy!

Warning: use of pet names (dear, handsome, kitten, darling), obvious mentions of jealousy, teeth-rotting fluff

Also posted on AO3

You found yourself sitting sideways on the large sofa at Onychinus’ base, Mephisto perched up at the back, pecking at the little shiny bells of the new toy you’d bought him. Both of you were highly entertained with it, you because he seemed to have loved it and him because, well, it was shiny and new.

You loved Mephisto very much and had fallen into the habit of sitting down for a few hours, talking to him and playing with him, especially on days in which Sylus was too busy and you had to wait around for him.

The mechanical crow was with you all the time anyway, it was only normal you’d grown attached to him. His personality reminded you a lot of his owner’s so how could you not be fond of him?

You were so distracted with the crow, giggling when he pecked at the bell and looked so surprised and delighted to hear it chime, that you didn’t even hear Sylus walk into the room. Your back was facing the door anyway and you felt so comfortable and safe at the base that your guard was down entirely.

You only noticed your partner when he was already wrapping himself around you, arms around your waist, knees bent at each side of you, tucking you back, flush against his large chest. His head fell on your shoulder and you could hear him sigh heavily, as if letting out all the tension of a whole day.

“Hello, dear,” he said, in a silly, muffled way from the way his chin rested on your shoulder.

“Hello, handsome,” you responded quickly.

Mephisto pecked at another one of the bells which made a different sound. The way he hopped and let out a little excited caw had you giggling again. And then he pecked at the third bell which made yet another different sound and he looked so endearingly excited that you were fully engulfed in your playtime.

You barely missed the little huff Sylus let out against your shoulder.

“What does one have to do to have their kitten stop playing with the little bird and shift her attention elsewhere?” Sylus mused, with a little touch of gruffiness in his deep voice.

He lifted a hand and flicked his fingers. Mephisto tilted his head and cawed, spreading his wings and taking off to his perch at the corner of the room. While the bird got distracted with one of his shiny toys you’d hung up near his perch, you felt Sylus’ arms tighten around you.

At first, you were confused. Sylus had never minded you spending time with Mephisto. But then it hit you.

“Sy, are you jealous of your own bird?” you asked, quite baffled yet highly amused.

Sylus scoffed next to your ear as if you’d just said the strangest thing but he did not deny it.

You lifted your hand to your lips, to suppress a laugh and yet your frame shook within his arms. Your partner buried his face in your shoulder with a little groan, nuzzling his nose right on the curve of your neck.

“Sylus,” you called, voice laced with tenderness and amusement.

When you made motion to move, he let you, leaning back against the armrest while you turned around in his arms. He pulled you closer and you found yourself in between his legs, laying on your belly over him. Your hands moved up to thread through his hair and his ruby eyes fluttered close.

“Darling, there’s enough space for the two of you in my heart,” you told him.

His eyes flickered open, mischief sparkling in those crimson hues and you traced one of his dark eyebrows with your fingertips.

“Which one takes up more space though?” he questioned, low and mellow.

He turned his head to press his lips to your wrist as his hands sprawled out over your back, gently, slowly, massaging your shoulder blades. You had been hunched over while playing with Mephisto so the ministrations of Sylus’ fingers were very much welcomed.

“Hmm, are you really trying to get me to choose between you and your watch bird?” 

Mephisto cawed at the corner of the room. 

“Your crow,” you corrected.

“Well, you have, in fact, been devoting more attention to my crow than me,” Sylus accused, clearly only half-joking.

This side to him was just so endearing and amusing that you couldn’t help the little laugh that freely slipped through your lips. You saw his eyes soften with what you recognized to be immense fondness.

You shifted further up, to cup his cheeks between your fingers, tracing his cheekbones with your thumbs.

“You silly,” you cooed.

Sylus’ hands halted and his arms circled your frame once again while you laid kisses all over his face. One cheek, then the other, the tip of his nose, the bridge, each eyelid. One extra kiss for the right eyelid. And then one final kiss to his forehead before you pulled back just a little. His eyelids were heavy on his ruby eyes, the bliss of tenderness making him soft and pliable in your hands.

“If the world was ending, I’d want to be next to you,” you told him.

The soft chuckle which rumbled from his chest was one of tenderness, a smile spread over his lips.

He suddenly rolled the two of you onto your sides, one of his big hands cradling your head to make sure you didn’t hit it uncomfortably. And soon he was buried in your neck, peppering tiny kisses all over, shoulder, neck and chin, stealing sweet little giggles from you.

His hair was disheveled when he pulled back but he didn’t seem to care.

“Does that mean you love me?” he asked, with a little grin.

You cupped his face between your fingers, smiling into those soft crimson eyes.

“What do you think?” you answered

“I think you do,” he concluded.

You hummed with a little nod and leaned forward, to press a kiss to his lips.

“I do,” you vowed.

[woniedarlin]

Shared Custody

Pairing: Ex! Jungwon x reader

Synopsis: Breaking up with Jungwon was one thing. But agreeing to co-parent a dog afterward? That was how you ended up in the weirdest post-breakup situation ever. Because what kind of exes still see each other at precisely 10 a.m?

You broke up. You’re sure of it. So why does it feel like your relationship never ended? Just… got a schedule and a leash?

Author's note: Another fic has been sitting in the drafts for too long. I finally decided to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

Warnings: This story contains equal parts fluff and angst, with a dash of unresolved feelings, awkward ex moments, and a dog that might steal the spotlight. Reader discretion is advised! 🐾

Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

Here’s the thing no one tells you about breakups:

When you two bought a dog together while you were still dating, breaking up isn’t just about parting ways with a person. You get partial custody of an emotional support furball with no idea why mom and dad stopped living together. The breakup was mutual. There was no shouting, no ugly crying, no one storming out at 2 a.m. with a suitcase and a dramatic one-liner.

It was a quiet and tired conversation on the couch. Some nods. A few long silences. And Maeumi, curled up between you, unaware that his life was about to get complicated.

You probably should’ve fought over him. Or at least discussed like rational adults. Instead, you both just… didn’t let go. Now, you set schedules like divorced parents. Only with more awkward small talk and a lot of pretending it’s totally normal to see your ex every other day at exactly 10:00 a.m.

It started with meetups. Hand off the leash, say a polite hello, smile as if it doesn’t sting anymore. Then it became coffee afterwards. Then breakfast “because he looks hungry and I’m already here anyway.”

Then, last weekend, Maeumi ate an entire bag of chips and got sick all over Jungwon’s living room, which somehow led to you arguing about brand-name kibble.

“You were the one who said he needed variety!”

“Variety doesn’t mean junk food!”

“They were organic!”

“He threw up on my socks, (name).”

And you’re not proud of it, but you laughed. A little too hard. Then Jungwon laughed, and it felt like nothing had changed for a moment.

But everything had.

Now, you’re waiting for Jungwon in the usual meeting spot, Maeumi’s leash wrapped loosely around your wrist as he trots in excited little circles. Jungwon’s late. Not by much, just five minutes. Enough to make you wonder if he’s okay. Enough to make you check your phone. He shows up a minute later, hair a bit messy, holding two coffees. “Sorry,” he says. “I stopped by that place you like. The one with the stupid tiny straws.”

You take the cup without a word.

Maeumi barks, happy as ever, tail wagging because it was the best part of his week. Seeing his divorced parents together! ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა

“Did he eat?” Jungwon asks.

You replied. “Yeah. But he thinks spinning in a circle gets him more food now.”

Jungwon sighs. “You didn’t.”

You shrug. “It was funny. He almost knocked over my lamp trying it this morning.”

There was a slight pause before, “He seemed to miss you a lot when he was with me last week. A good thing he has spent with you these past few days.” Jungwon says, nudging Maeumi’s head.

You nod, eyes on your coffee cup. “I missed him too.”

You’re not sure which of them you’re talking about.

🍎

Maeumi planted his butt on the floor and refused to move. You tugged the leash gently. “Come on, it’s Dad’s turn.” Maeumi looked at you. Then looked at Jungwon. Then flopped onto his side. You sighed. “He’s being a brat again.”

Jungwon crouched beside you, holding out a treat from his pocket. “Maeumi, let’s not do this today.”

Maeumi sniffed the treat, stood up halfway, then turned around and pressed himself against your leg.

You and Jungwon exchanged a look.

“I think he’s made his choice,” you said.

“It’s not even a choice. It’s supposed to be my weekend.”

“You tell him that.”

Jungwon sighed and looked down at Maeumi, who was now rolling over, belly up, smug as ever. “You’re a traitor. You know that?”

Maeumi sneezed in response.

Eventually, after five minutes of bargaining and light bribery, Jungwon stepped inside your apartment to get him moving. One minute turned into five. Then ten. Now you were both sitting on the couch, a lukewarm mug of tea in his hands, Maeumi curled between you like a peace treaty in dog form. “You know,” you said, watching as Maeumi kicked his leg in his sleep, “he wasn’t like this when we first got him.”

“Nope,” Jungwon muttered. “He used to listen to me. Now he acts like he pays rent.”

“That’s your influence.”

He shot you a look. “My influence? You’re the one who started giving him tiny portions of your dinner because he’s a spoiled prince.”

You shrugged and grinned. “He deserves nice things.”

“He eats better than me.”

Jungwon glanced at you for too long, then looked away and sipped his tea.

You didn’t notice.

Well, yeah, you did, but you were pretending not to.

Jungwon leaned back a little. Then he looked toward the kitchen. And then he saw it. The mug. The one he bought for your birthday two years ago. You loved it to the point that you used it daily while you two were still dating. He nodded toward the cupboard. “Didn’t think you still had that.”

You glanced over. “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything else, but his eyes stayed on it. That dumb, ceramic memory sitting there as if it had every right to exist in a post-breakup world.

You added, “It’s a good mug.”

Jungwon barely smiled. “Yeah. Real high quality.”

You didn’t reply.

He looked back at Maeumi, who was still fast asleep between you, snoring lightly. “I keep one of your spoons in my drawer,” Jungwon said suddenly.

Your head turned. “What?”

“You left it after that one trip. The one where we bought those instant noodles that tasted like cardboard.”

“Oh. Right.” You stared ahead. “That was a good weekend.”

“It rained.”

“I like rain.”

You both nodded and pretended the conversation didn’t sting a little.

Maeumi snored louder as if he were trying to cover the silence.

🍎

Your phone buzzed at 11:42 p.m.

You were half-asleep. Maeumi had gone home with Jungwon hours ago, but the apartment still felt…full.

You grabbed your phone.

Jungwon [11:42 PM]

Thanks for taking care of him this week. He seemed extra happy. When he saw you, his tail wagged about ten times per second.

You smiled without meaning to, your thumb hovering over the keyboard to send a quick "anytime" or maybe a "he missed you too."

But another message came in before you could type.

Jungwon [11:43 PM]

You’re still the easiest person to talk to.

You stared at the screen.

You didn’t know what to say. Or perhaps you did, and that was the problem.

So you… didn’t reply.

🍎

Jungwon sat on the curb's edge, nursing a canned coffee. Sunghoon was sipping from his drink, watching him spiral in silence. “I’m losing it,” Jungwon finally said. “She still knows how I take my coffee. Didn’t even ask.”

Sunghoon glanced over. “She made it the same way she used to? Back when you two were together?”

Jungwon nodded slowly. “Exactly like that.”

“And you’re upset because…?”

“I don’t know,” Jungwon shaked his head. “She laughs at my jokes the same way. She still says ‘bless you’ when I fake sneeze for attention. And today, I saw the mug I got for her birthday two years ago, sitting in her cupboard like it never left.”

“Maybe it’s just a good mug?” Sunghoon offered.

Jungwon stared at him. “That mug has a whale on it saying ‘whale you be mine.’ It wasn’t just a mug.”

Sunghoon choked on his drink and wiped his mouth. “Okay, yeah, that’s tragic.”

“And she still wears my hoodie,” Jungwon added. “She likes that hoodie.”

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna ask for the hoodie back and confess your undying love in the same breath?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I was over her. I thought we were fine being exes who raise a dog together.” Jungwon let out a long sigh and tilted his head back. “I don’t know when it started feeling like this again.”

Sunghoon crumpled his empty drink can and tossed it into the bin beside them. “You mean the part where you show up with her favorite foods, sit on her couch like you never left, and keep pretending Maeumi’s the only reason you’re still hanging around?”

Jungwon looked at Sunghoon. “…Okay, rude. But not wrong.”

“Exactly. Look, man.” Sunghoon turned to face him fully now. “You two broke up. Sure. But you’re still texting her late at night, still wearing the cologne she once said smelled nice, and still looking at her like she’s the only person in the room.”

Jungwon groaned. “She’s just being nice. She always was.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “No one’s that nice, bro. She has your hoodie. She made you pancakes last week. You said she cut the strawberries the way you like them.”

“She always cuts the ends-”

“Exactly.” Sunghoon gave him a look. “At this point, you’re not just co-parenting a dog. You’re toeing the line of a romcom reboot.” He added, “Seriously, who even does this? Shared custody over a dog? With your ex? This is the weirdest post-breakup dynamic I’ve ever seen.”

Jungwon didn’t even deny it. He muttered, “…Yeah, but it’s kind of working.”

Sunghoon nodded solemnly. “You’re doomed.”

Jungwon groaned. “I think I’m accidentally falling in love with her again.”

“No such thing as accidental. You just never stopped.”

🍎

Maeumi wasn’t himself. You noticed it the moment he refused his dinner. He moved slowly, dragging his paws across the floor, and his eyes looked distant. Something was off. He usually had a healthy appetite, but tonight, nothing. You knelt beside him, gently rubbing his back. “Hey, Maeumi, what’s going on?”

He let out a weak whimper. Panic rose in your chest. You didn’t know what was wrong but knew you needed help. You grabbed your phone without thinking.

Jungwon picked up almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” His voice was concerned, even though he wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Maeumi’s sick. He won’t eat, he’s not moving much… I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Don’t worry. I’m coming over.”

It didn’t take long for him to arrive, his face tense as he crouched down to Maeumi’s level. The dog barely acknowledged him, enough to make you both nervous. “We should take him to the vet,” Jungwon said after a moment.

You nodded, already on the phone, setting up an appointment. The drive was tense, your hand gripping the door handle while Jungwon kept one hand on the wheel, his eyes between you and Maeumi.

When you finally arrived at the clinic, it was quiet. You and Jungwon waited in the sterile, cold waiting room. Maeumi was lying on your lap, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. You rubbed his head absentmindedly, trying to calm yourself. “He’s going to be okay,” Jungwon said quietly, glancing over at you.

You nodded but didn’t answer. He touched his hand lightly near yours as he reached for the water cup beside you, and for a fleeting second, you felt his warmth. You looked at him, but his gaze was somewhere else, not meeting yours.

For a brief moment, you wondered if he missed this. If he missed you. But before you could even entertain the thought, the door to the exam room opened, and the vet emerged, pulling your focus back to Maeumi. Jungwon stood up. “He’ll be fine,” he said.

And you weren’t sure what to make of it, but for the first time since your breakup, you couldn’t ignore how much it stung to see him so close yet still so distant.

🍎

By the time you and Jungwon returned from the vet, Maeumi was already dozing off on the couch, wrapped in an old blanket and looking much more himself. The panic had eased. You stood by the kitchen, hands on the counter, watching Jungwon kneel to check Maeumi. You glanced at the time. “It’s late. You should eat before you head back.”

Jungwon looked up. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I was gonna cook anyway,” you said, opening the fridge. “Don’t expect a five-course meal, though.”

“I never did,” he said, smiling as he joined you in the kitchen. “You still burn rice, don’t you?”

You gave him a light shove with your elbow. “That happened once. And the pot betrayed me.”

Then, he washed the vegetables while you stirred the soup. It was annoyingly comfortable.

By the time dinner was done, the table was set. Jungwon set down the last dish and glanced over at you. “This… feels like we never broke up,”

You froze. Then, you replied, “We never used to have this much garlic.”

He huffed a small laugh but didn’t push it. And for the rest of dinner, neither of you brought it up again.

🍎

The dishes were washed. The leftovers are packed. Maeumi, finally feeling a bit better, had claimed his usual spot at the foot of your couch, tail thumping gently as he dozed. You stood near the sink, drying your hands on a dish towel, when Jungwon spoke from behind you. “I didn’t just miss Maeumi, you know.”

“I miss…” He let out a soft breath. “I miss all of it.”

“Do you still think about us?” he asked.

The silence was deafening. You felt him watching your back, waiting. And if the room had stayed that quiet a second longer, you would’ve said something honest. But Maeumi barked as if he’d sensed the tension rising and decided to cut it clean. You both jumped slightly. You turned with a light laugh, avoiding his gaze. “I think someone needs his water refilled.”

Jungwon didn’t press. He nodded before crouching to check Maeumi’s bowl.

Neither of you said anything else.

But the question stayed.

🍎

It happens on a night that should’ve been uneventful. A regular handoff. Maeumi is snoozing on your carpet, belly full. Jungwon’s quiet tonight. You notice it right away, but you pretend not to. You handed over Maeumi’s leash, but he didn’t take it. “You still have my hoodie,” he says.

You glance up. “What?”

He gestures vaguely toward the coat rack. “The gray one. I saw it last week. You used to sleep in it.”

You shrug. “It’s comfortable.”

His jaw tightens, but he laughs a little. “Everything I gave you is ‘comfortable,’ huh?”

You don’t answer.

“I saw your story the other day,” he adds. “Looked like a date.”

Now, you furrow your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Jungwon runs a hand through his hair. “Forget it.”

“No,” you say. “You brought it up. So say it.”

“It’s confusing. For one moment, we laughed as if nothing had changed. Then, in the next instant, I remember how you used to fall asleep on my chest or steal all the blankets.” His voice wavers for a moment, but he pushes on. “I just can’t tell if I’m the only one stuck in the past or you’re better at pretending.”

You hesitate, then quietly. “I wish I could say I moved on, but I haven't.”

Jungwon’s shoulders drop a little. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He looks down. “Because you looked like you were doing okay. And I didn’t want to make it harder if you were healing.”

“I wasn’t okay,” you say softly. “I’m still not.”

Jungwon lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours. “Neither am I.”

“I miss you,” he says. “Not just Maeumi. Not just Saturday mornings. I miss… talking to you. I miss knowing how you’re doing without having to ask.”

You look away. “Then why are we doing this?” you whisper. “Why are we acting like we’re fine?”

He lets out a breath. “Because maybe we don’t know how to be anything else.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He says, more gently this time, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start an argument.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t.”

He bends down and clips the leash onto Maeumi’s collar. The dog wags his tail, clueless, happy just to be loved by both of you. Jungwon straightens up but doesn’t turn to leave right away. He looks around your apartment. His eyes land briefly on the hoodie by the coat rack, then the familiar mug on your kitchen shelf.

“I still love you,” he says suddenly.

You freeze.

“I didn’t think I should say it. I didn’t want to make this harder. I thought… maybe it’d get easier if I stopped talking about it. But it didn’t.”

He’s not asking for anything. Not a hug. Not a kiss. Not to come back. He was standing there with his hand gently resting on Maeumi’s back because it kept him from breaking. “You laughed at one of my jokes last week,” he says softly. “And for a second, I forgot we weren’t together anymore. That’s how easy it is to fall back into you.”

You swallow hard. But he keeps going.

“I didn’t want to make you feel guilty. Or corner you. I just needed you to know. It wasn’t because I stopped feeling everything when we broke up. I was scared. And tired. And maybe I thought it’d hurt less if we ended it on our terms.”

He finally looks at you. “But it still hurts.”

Maeumi lets out a soft bark. Jungwon reaches down and scratches behind his ears; for a second, it’s just the sound of his hand brushing fur. Then he straightens again, but now you notice his eyes are a bit glassy. “I’ll take him tonight. I’ll text you tomorrow. If you need anything, or if… you want to talk more, I’m one call away.”

You nod. Slowly. You can’t get your voice to work. But your eyes say enough.

Jungwon opens the door and glances back just once. “Goodnight,” he says.

And then they’re gone.

🍎

Jungwon sits on the edge of his bed, hair slightly damp from a rushed shower. Maeumi is curled beside him, his head resting on his paw, and his eyes blinking up at him as if he understands more than a dog ever should. Jungwon takes a small breath and runs a hand through Maeumi’s fur. “You don’t have to look at me like that,” he mutters. “I didn’t yell.”

Maeumi blinks again.

“Okay,” Jungwon sighed, leaning back a little, “I maybe said too much.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Maeumi,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “She just looked at me like I was someone from a different life. That sucked.’’ Jungwon glances down and smiles sadly. “Don’t worry,” he says quietly. “Mommy and Daddy were just having a little disagreement.”

He lays back on the bed. “I’ll bring her back,” he whispers. “I swear, Maeumi. I’ll bring your mom back to me.”

Maeumi lets out a soft woof.

🍎

The rain had been pouring since morning. You didn’t expect anyone when the doorbell rang, especially not Jungwon. But there he was. Standing at your doorway, drenched from head to toe, Maeumi dripped beside him and looked more like a soggy mop than a dog. “Uh,” Jungwon offered sheepishly. “He refused to walk anywhere else.”

You said in disbelief. “You could’ve called.”

“I did. You didn’t answer.”

You step aside. “Come in before Maeumi gets mistaken for a wet sock.”

Towels came out. You wrapped one around Maeumi, rubbing his fur as he wagged his tail. Jungwon was quieter. You handed him a dry hoodie from your closet, which was his, actually. It still smelled like him, though it had sat folded for months.

He changed. You made tea. He sat across you on the couch, rubbing Maeumi’s ears absently. “I’ve been thinking,” Jungwon started, voice gentle. “We weren’t ready back then. But maybe now…”

You looked at him, guarded. “I’ve changed,” he continued. “You have too. And I don’t just mean getting better at feeding Maeumi actual food.” You smiled a little. He took it as permission. “I guess I want to say I’m sorry. For everything I didn’t say before. For not knowing how to stay when things got hard.”

You met his gaze. “I’m sorry, too. For pushing you away when I didn’t know what I needed.”

“Do you think Maeumi would be okay if we lived together again?” Jungwon asked suddenly, eyes hopeful.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking for the dog or for you?”

A sheepish smile curved his lips. “Both.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned into his shoulder, your head resting there like it used to. “Maybe we could try again,” you said quietly. “For real this time.”

Jungwon’s hand found yours.

Maeumi snored at your feet.

And outside, the rain kept falling, washing everything clean.

[stalkedandblocked]

camgirl!reader x sevika

tw. reader and sevika are live, regular au (?? i have no idea how to word it 😭) masturbation (reader), strap on, fingering, cunnilingus (giving and receiving), sevika puts you in a headlock, squirting, overstim, sucking the strap

while in college you get a little bored of your mundane life, and with some free time during the night and also in need of some more money you start an only fans account. after growing quite a following you decide to do a raffle to stream with one of your fans to make things more interesting.

a/n: this took so long holy moly. i hope y’all liked this because this is one of my first times writing a full fic <3 like and reblog if ur a real sevika truther :D

with your tripod and camera on your bed infront of you, you moan, “mmmf… im so close,” you arch your back off the bed as you press the vibrator harder onto your clit. you spread your legs wider, giving a show to the camera. “fuck- oh my god,” your hips start bucking and you throw your head back, you moan and cry as your orgasm hits you, the painful feeling of overstimulation comes quickly but you keep the vibrator on your pussy and your whole body trembles through your orgasm. panting like a dog, you finally turn off the vibrator and place it to the side.

you lift your shaky body and sit on your knees in front of the camera, putting your hands in your lap to squeeze your breast together. you start to announce the little idea you had. messages are spammed in the chat, asking for you to chose them, that they’ll even send money for you to choose them, and asking about what you mean by this. you only giggle and say, “it’s just a thought you pervs, i thought it might be fun to chose one of you randomly and see if you’d be interested in streaming with me.”

the chat dies down on the questions and you say a few more words to say goodbye, before ending the stream by blowing them a kiss.

after hopping in the shower and getting yourself clean, you change into some comfy pajamas before making a post on your page.

‘hi to all my fans! i’m so glad you guys were interested in my proposal, if your in the area dm me for a chance to stream with me ;), i can’t wait!’ after pressing send you turn your phone off and head to bed, hoping that hopefully this won’t be a mistake, and that whoever you chose isn’t entirely horrendous looking.

the next day you check your phone, a couple hundred dm’s are in your inbox. most being people from far away asking if they can fly out but you stick to your word, you find one from an account who sent their address. “let’s see what this person has to offer” you think to yourself. you text back and forth before ultimately asking for a photo of them holding some id next to them so you know they’re not lying about their identity.

a while passed before the account responds, there was no indication about who this person might be so your surprised to see a woman, another notifications sends and it’s a photo of her id attached. you look closer at it, her names sevika, she’s quite a bit older than you, but that didn’t bother you. you ponder for a bit, you’ve never had sex with a woman, but was not opposed to the idea. but yes, even thought the photo of herself is a bit awkward, even reminding you of a parents facebook photo which makes you laugh to yourself a bit, she is very attractive. and from what you can see she seems quite muscular.

“alright”, and you send her an address of a restaurant near both of your homes and tell her to meet you there tomorrow and 4pm.

the next day, you put on a simple going out outfit, nothing to make it obvious your meeting a stranger to fuck her, then head out the door. as you walk to the restaurant you feel butterflies, obviously you had only even been with men, but she was, well, very sexy you thought. the idea excited you but also made you nervous.

as you sat at a table and tell the waitress your waiting for somone, another walks into the restaurant. you miss her face but her hair is tied half up and it’s short, a few inches above her shoulder. she’s also is very tall. you gulp, from what you remember that looks like her. she scans the restaurant before you make eye contact. she walks over to you and sits across from you.

“you must be sevika,” you smile, feeling more nervous than you expected to be. when she responds her voice is deep and smooth, her words are almost seductive. compared to your messages and how she talks to you she seems much more ready and nonchalant about this whole situation in real life. everything about her attracts you, “so did you have any ideas of when you’d like to.. ahem” you try to keep your voice down so no one hears and gets any ideas, “..stream”.

sevika is lazily leaning back in her char, legs nudged open a bit. she leans over the table, resting her arms on it, “i’m ready whenever you are.” you have no idea if she meant to make you flustered, or tried to make it sound sexy but her words melt you brain almost. you stand quickly and grab her arm, “let’s do it today, let’s do it now!” you squeal out before your dragging her out of the restaurant.

sevika had driven so she directs you to her car, you drive to your house and you walk up the stair together after she grabs a bag out of the back of her car. your whole body is warm and fuzzy with excitement. “i usually wear some lingerie when i start, as you probably know. would you like some or do you want to start naked?” you ask, grabbing a matching to set to change into.

“naked.” she responds, she watches as you walk to the bathroom to change. you throw a robe out of the bathroom so she can cover herself before you start. you come out in your set, wearing a robe as well. she sits on your bed watching, “let me set up the camera and then we can begin. did you have anything in mind on what we want to do, what we want to follow?”

“i have ideas for later, but let’s not worry about that now.”

you begin the stream, sevika sits naked on your bed, and you take the robe off infront of the camera. sevika places a hand on your hip guiding you to her lap before you crawl over her. each touch feels like sparks, your already soaked and anticipating what’s gonna happen. you grab eachother and start kissing, her tongue runs over your lip and your lips crash against each other. you sit down on her lap and slowly move your hips over her muscular thighs, you moan into her mouth. “that’s a good girl,” she praises, before continuing to kiss you.

she grabs your hips roughly, helping them move back and forth, you arch and moan for her. your chat is going crazy, some even shocked that it’s another woman. she stops your grinding and lifts your hips up a bit before dragging her thick finger up and down your slit. both of you seem like you forgot that your streaming and just enjoy each others bodies. she rubs your clit in circles, making your toes curl. she takes you from on top of her and flips you to face the camera, spreading your legs, the exposing position making you even wetter. she slides your panties to the side so the camera can see your wet cunny, she starts rubbing circles on your clit makes you throw your head back.

she chuckles at you, “don’t make me hold you head up. already so sensitive, huh?” her mocking words make you moan once more, she begins teasing your hole before nudging her index and middle finger into you. her fingers are so thick and long, your already seeing stars, “fuck! yes! right there sevika, oh my god-” you scream out as she adds her ring finger inside. your juices leak all over her lap and hand. your head leans against her and you mewl into her ear, begging to cum. as you finally start to reach your orgasm she pulls out her fingers and slaps your pussy.

“fuck!” you cry out as your body reacts to your ruined orgasm, sevika chuckles. you breathe heavily as sevika manhandles your basically limp body, laying it on the bed, she starts pulling down your panties and the slick dripping between your legs is more visible than ever. you arch your back slightly off the bed and she unclips your bra, she stops what she’s doing and stares at them. you giggle and can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or because of her expression, like she’s almost captivated. your breasts fall from the bra and lay prettily on display, which sevika quickly takes advantage of and begins to suck at on of your nipples and knead the other. you let at small moans while kisses litter your tits.

she lifts her head up and smirks “are you ready?” she asks, with having no idea what she’s talking about, you eagerly nod. she begins moving her body over yours and places her bare pussy on your face, letting down all her weight, then spreading your legs and burrying her face in your own cunt. your almost shocked by this, she starts teasing the tip of her tongue on your clit, before diving it into your hole, tongue fucking you and hitting all the good spots in your pussy. you moan against her cunt and try to copy her actions. you suck her clit and lap your tongue up and down her pussy, you squeeze around her tongue in response to her moaning. it’s low and vibrates through your whole body. it’s not long before you cum because of the previous teasing she had done earlier. you squeeze your legs around her head and buck up, trying to keep up the pace with how your lapping her pussy, but inevitably struggle from how your body is shaking against her face.

sevika places one last sloppy kiss to your clit then raises herself, and grinds against your face until she orgasms, gripping onto your hair. the moans she lets out makes your pussy ache.

while coming down form your high you lay next to each other panting, forgetting about the stream itself. “you okay, baby?” sevika asks, places kisses on your neck. “mhm,” you mumble, relaxing into the bed as she kisses you. “well, i think it’s time for what i had planned for earlier”, she gets up and disappears off camera. across the room she pulls something out of her bag that she had grabbed earlier. she begins to attach something to her hips, and before you know it she’s standing over you with a strap on.

it’s so thick and long, you gulp. not even with any men had you had to take something for big. “i know your wet enough but, i don’t think this is” sevika lets out a sly smile. her height already towers over you, so even standing and you sitting in the bed has you face to face with it. “suck it.” she orders and obediently you do. you place your hands around it, looking up at her with puppy dog eyes, and slowly thrust your mouth down onto it. she stares down at you and bites her lip. you bob your head up and down, slowly reaching down with each thrust, your throat adjusts around it and you gag against it and sevika laughs. she places one hand on your head to tug at your hair. once you finally reach down the base she holds your head down. the length makes your eyes tear up as you gag even more.

she pulls your hair back until your off of it and pushes you down to the bed. still grasping your hair she puts your face down into the pillows and keeps your ass up before crawling over you. she has your face infront of the camera and wraps her arm around you. her thick biceps flex as she grabs the strap to line it up at your cunt. she wastes no time pushing it in, when she bottoms out your eyes roll back and without even moving it feels almost heavenly. she starts thrusting slowly before they become almost rapid, her arm squeezes around your throat even more and you moan and gasp. “taking it like such a good little slut,” she purred. you let out a messy smile and your moans just couldn’t stop coming out. they way it felt against your g-spot and pounded into you made your toes curl.

“se-sevika!” you drooled, “i’m gonna cum, please! hah, keep going!” you screamed, sevika took no time and started pounding into you more, her free arm rubbing your clit, fast circles against the puffy aching bud. your body shook and your eyes rolled back into your head, sevika thought they might never go back. you cried out before you finally squirted all over yourself and the bed, the liquid covering your stomach, the sheets and sevikas hand. “holy shit” sevika gasped at the reaction to your orgasm. your whole body was stiff and shaking, your mouth tried to let out moans but nothing came out as your eyes rolled back as hard as they could. your body went limp onto the bed, sevika pulled out of you, a line of slick breaking as the contact broke. you whined at the sudden emptiness.

she grabs the camera and faces it towards you, she spreads your weak legs showing the amount of cum that had leaked from your hole and everything that had dripped onto the sheets and between your thighs. “took it like the good slut she is,” she grabbed a handful of your ass and let out a laugh before she abruptly ended the stream.

she threw the camera onto the bed carelessly, then asked, “so, want to meet again next week?”

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal

In which Lando befriends a single mom without even realizing it.

Warnings: single mom. talk of parental death (no death featured on page), lando being a judgey jerk at first, kinda? Pairing: Lando Norris x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 5.4k words

Master List

yourusername (private) posted

109 likes liked by yourdad, BFFsarah, McLaren, and others yourusername Work holiday party with my mini me! yourdad my two favorite girls! >>>yourusername thanks dad! <3

The fairy lights that stretched back and forth across the ceiling of the McLaren Technology Center sparkle down at you, a soft glow illuminating the spacious front lobby. Half a dozen 12 foot Christmas trees dot the cavernous room and tables decorated with rich red, green, and silver accents create intimate seating areas throughout. The only things indicating that the offices were home to McLaren's Formula 1 team were the seven or so F1 cars from past and present, all put on display for tonight's party.

The events team had certainly outdone themselves this year, that was for sure. If there was anything the McLaren events team went hard for every single time, it was the MTC's annual family holiday party. This year though, the entire team had extra reason to celebrate: earlier in the month, the team had brought home the Constructor's Championship for the first time in years.

"Momma, where's Aunt Sarah?" Your six year old daughter Stella asks softly, her little hand tucked securely in yours as she looks around, eyes wide in awe at all the decorations.

"I don't know, munchkin." You reply, grinning down at her. "Do you want to see if we can find her?"

Your best friend Sarah was surely already here as she was one of the heads of the events team. She'd been planning this party for months now, the added pressure from the championship win had nearly driven her mad. A quick text is answered even quicker and you lead Stella towards the massive ballroom that sits on the opposite side of the sleek modern building.

As you walk down the hall, the heels of your stilettos clicking softly, you're surprised to be hit with a wave of nostalgia. You'd been working for McLaren for almost two years now, after Sarah had given the head of product development your resume when you graduated uni with a degree in computer science and data analytics. Marshall, the man who ran the department, had offered you a job as a data analyst on the spot when you came into interview the following week. It had all felt like divine intervention, going from getting pregnant so young and having no other choice but to navigate parenthood alone to finding yourself employed within weeks of graduating. McLaren truly felt like your second home now.

"There's my Stelly Belly!" Sarah cries when she sees Stella and you walking towards her. Without a second thought, your daughter drops your hand and flings herself into the waiting arms of your best friend, one of the few adults the little girl trusts enough to open up to.

"Don't you look pretty tonight?" Sarah coos, nuzzling her head into Stella neck, eliciting a squeal and a cascade of giggles from your little girl. "And your mama looks stunning too!"

Rolling your eyes, you smooth down the front of the red satin dress you'd bought last week. "Are you sure it's not too much?"

Your brows knit together in uncertainty. Ever since having Stella at 19, your life had revolved around the little girl. Everything you did and every choice you made was made because of her and with her best interest in mind. Going to university when she was a newborn had been for her benefit and the time spent away from her while you studied and attended classes were paying off now with your secure job and hefty paycheck. But you weren't used to calling attention to yourself, totally content with working behind a computer screen in your quiet office tucked in the back of the MTC. You came to work, socialized very little, and went home to your daughter. This kind of event was very much out of your comfort zone.

"Stop that." Sarah scolds as she sets Stella down. "You look so good you're going have the mechanics breaking their necks all night long."

"Okay, that's enough." You huff.

"Momma, Sarah says there's holiday crafts over there!" Stella points vaguely towards the other side of the room. "Can we go? Please?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Let's go."

"I'll take her!" Sarah volunteers, capturing Stella's little hand in hers before giving you a look. "Go get a drink or something. Have some fun. Stelly Belly and I will go make all the crafts!"

You watch after your best friend and the other half of your heart as they scamper away, Stella's red velvet dress fluttering behind her. Somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach, a painful clenching feeling takes root. For the past six years, your entire universe has revolved around that little blonde headed girl. Even now, though you spent more time apart from Stella than you cared for because of school for her and work for you, whenever she was out of sight it felt like a bit of you was missing.

Once you see her settle at the table right next to Sarah and begin coloring something in front of her, you turn away and wander towards the open bar. If there was one thing McLaren did right at these kinds of parties, it was provide top tier food and drinks for the employees.

You order a glass of what smells like the most heavenly mulled wine you've ever encountered and find a spot away from the crowd, leaning against a pillar in the shadows of the room. You weren't used to being around so many people and while you were glad Stella seemed to be enjoying herself, you could feel your social battery already draining.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee." A smooth voice interrupts your anxious thoughts.

You blush into your glass of wine, knowing who it was sneaking up behind you before you even turned around. "I'm telling Oscar you said that."

Lando slips in beside you, caramel colored cashmere jumper brushing against your bare arm. "You wouldn't dare." He says, bumping your shoulder gently. You can hear the smile in his voice without even looking.

When you say you don't socialize much at work, there is always going to be one exception to that rule: Lando Norris. He had wandered into your office one day about six months ago looking for the legal department of all places. Lando had sheepishly admitted he may have accidentally signed a contract to be the spokesman for a bank in Singapore while drunk on holiday and needed to see what how mad everyone was going to be. You then had to admit you were, in fact, just a software engineer and not a solicitor and he was not, in fact, anywhere near the legal department.

An unlikely friendship had been born that day though because instead of turning around and scampering away out of sheer embarrassment, Lando had plopped himself down in the chair opposite your desk and spent nearly an hour and a half peppering you with questions about your job.

Lando liked those moments he got to slip away during his busy days at the MTC to see you. It seemed like lately, he would find himself carving out time during his day to make a special visit to your office no matter what else he had scheduled that day. He liked the way you talked to him like he was a normal person and how easily you laughed at his jokes. You never made him feel stupid or inferior for asking questions about whatever project you were working on that day and you never asked him about racing. Not once. You were also the prettiest girl he'd ever seen and he was embarrassingly addicted to making you smile.

"You look stunning tonight." Lando says in a hushed voice. "Red is your color."

Although he's next to you still, Lando manages to steal little looks at you out of the corner of his eye. The red dress you've got on tonight should be illegal and it's showing off every dip and curve of your body. You pride yourself on how well you dress at the office but tended to stick with neutral colors and classic, conservative shapes that weren't jarring and allowed you to fade into the noise of a busy office a bit. The red was totally out of character for you and Lando found himself wanting to buy you an entire closet full of colorful dresses.

Your cheeks go crimson and you're thankful for the dim lights that hide it. "Thank you."

The other thing you're not used to is attention from men. Like your social life, any semblance of a dating life had been put on the back burner when you became a single mom. You didn't much miss it, if you were bing quite honest. Spending time with Stella was better than wasting a night on a man that would only end up disappointing you.

So when someone like Lando complimented you on the dress you wore you don't quite know how to react.

"Momma! Momma, look what Auntie Sarah and I made!" Stella interrupts anything that's about to come out of Lando's mouth when she runs up brandishing what looks to be a fairy wand tied with dozens of glittery ribbons.

You crouch down, not missing the way Lando stiffens beside you, and take the plastic wand out of Stella's hand. "Is this a magic wand?" You ask, voice breathy with awe.

"Yeah! Aunt Sarah helped tie the ribbons on after I picked them. They're all glittery and match Elsa's ice queen dress."

You smile, Elsa had always been Stella's favorite Disney princess. "That is so special, Stelly Belly."

A few feet away, Sarah takes in how close you and Lando were before Stella interrupted and smirks. "Come on, Stella. I think I saw a cookie decorating contest starting over by the wands!"

You stand, eyeing your best friend. "I can take her, Sarah. I'm sure you want to mingle."

"Nope! Stay. Talk. Be merry!" Sarah's eyes bounce between you and Lando and your cheeks heat at the implication.

Beside you, Lando rubs at his jaw trying to process the information he's just learned. Momma? This girl, cute as a button, was calling you mom? He rifles through his memory, trying to think of any time you'd ever mentioned being a mom and he can't come up with a single thing. And he's pretty sure he remembers everything you've ever said to him.

"You have a daughter." Lando says it more as a statement than a question and you wince.

This was always the part where you tended to lose people. Being as young as you were, you were used to people being put off by the fact that you had a daughter. A lot of people your age weren't ready for kids yet and had a hard time figuring you out because you had such radically different priorities. Neither set of priorities was better than the other, just different.

"I do. Her name is Stella." You respond, leaning against the pillar once again. The cool marble sends shivers down your back as you prepare to lose someone who had made more of an impact on you than you realized.

"You never said anything about her." He observes, his tone unreadable.

"You never asked." You shrug, trying not to get defensive. "Her pictures are all over my office, Lan. I've never hid the fact that I have Stella."

Lando thinks back, recalling the office he's spent so much time in lately. You're right, of course. There are bits of Stella all over the place in the drawings on your desk to the school picture that sits near the spider plant close to the window. But somehow Lando had never noticed anything else other than you.

He rubs at the back of his neck, "I guess I just assumed she was your niece or something."

"Nope. She's all mine."

"And her dad?" The moment the question slips from Lando's mouth, he regrets it. His eyes shutter closed but not before he catches a glimpse of the way you flinch.

He hates himself for thinking he deserves to be privy to this information. For being so bold as to ask for the sordid details of your life when all you are to each other is a casual work flirtation. He hates himself for implying that you'd ever flirt with him when there was someone else in the picture. Or worse, that you now have to relive a painful story behind why there wasn't.

"You don't have to answer that." God, he was so good at speaking before thinking, wasn't he? It had gotten him into so much hot water with the press this year during the championship run and here he was again, putting his foot in his mouth like an idiot.

"It's fine." You sigh, knowing that anyone who wants to be in your life is going to have to hear the story at some point. You just hadn't anticipated it happening with Lando, having been perfectly content with the safety of your innocent work flirtation.

"I had Stella when I was 19, her dad was killed in a car accident when she was eight months old. She turned six in September.”

The silence that stretches between you is heavy, clashing with the light and festive mood that swirls around you.

"Christ. I'm sorry, love."

You hate how painful that tugging sensation on your heart is when Lando calls you 'love'.

Shrugging, you hope you feign nonchalance well enough to fool him. You know it doesn’t.

“Listen, I should go check on Sarah and Stella, make sure Stella doesn't sweet talk Sarah into a puppy or something. Those two together is how I ended up with a kitten last year."

The brightness in your voice is all for show but Lando sees right through it.

You're gone before he can get a word in though.

yourusername (private) posted

102 likes liked by BFFsarah, yourdad, yoursister, and others yourusername Quick trip into London for some last minute pressies! yourdad I'm a size Rolex in silver and gold please! >>>yourusername Ha Ha Ha, very funny father BFFsarah Brave brave girl! >>>yourusername brave or stupid, you decide!!!

"Come on, sweet girl, let's find your Papa a Christmas present so we can get out of this mad house."

You tug at Stella's hand, who was currently practically drooling over a display of sparkly gold and diamond jewelry in Harrods jewelry department. Around you, crowds swirl and people jostle each other as they all hustle to pick out their precious gifts before Santa's big night. Why you had chosen to come into London the weekend before Christmas was a mystery, but you were fully convinced that you had lost it when you had agreed to come to Harrods at Stella's request.

"But this necklace is so pretty, Momma!" Stella whines, eyes dragging over the diamond necklace on display in front of her.

"Yes, I know but I don't think your grandpa wants a diamond necklace for Christmas. Let's go up to the fifth floor where the kitchen gadgets are! You know how much he loves to cook!"

Stella rolls her eyes, which you choose to ignore. For all of her attitude today, Stella wasn't usually an ornery child. She was very well behaved and quite reserved so you gave her extra grace when it was crowded and loud like this. You knew she got overstimulated easily, just like you did.

"Fine." She sighs, casting one last longing look at the display. "Maybe Santa will bring me the necklace." She mutters and you have to tamp down a laugh.

You take Stella's hand in yours, despite her giving you another look of contempt. She was much too big of a girl to be holding her mother's hand, thank you very much. You ignored the glare and squeezed at your daughter's hand, knowing that she's not really angry at you.

Up on the fifth floor, the homewares section is significantly quieter than where you just were. Stella spots a display of colorful Kitchen Aid mixers that she scampers over to while you wander over to the espresso machines while reminding her to stick close. Out of the corner of your eye, you keep watch over her while debating the merits of different coffee machines.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee out in the wild." A velvety smooth voice sends familiar shivers down your spine.

"Favorite? You've been avoiding me since the holiday party." You quip without taking your eyes off the silver machine in front of you, knowing exactly who it is beside you without even looking.

Ever since the holiday party nearly two weeks ago, you hand't seen Lando at all despite knowing that he was at the MTC at least a few days. You hated that you knew that most of that time he had been out of the country, skiing in France then golfing in Spain. You also hated that you kept track of the amount of times you had known he was in Woking at the MTC and hadn't even bothered to stop in and say 'hi' to you.

Lando's hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I know. I'm sorry." His voice is low, tinged with guilt.

"Listen, it's fine." You turn to face him for the first time and your traitorous heart thuds a little harder in your chest. That mullet you teased him about so much at first had really grown on you and boy did it look good today.

"It's not like we're friends, Lando." You don't work as hard as you probably should to keep the frustration out of your voice. "You don't owe me anything and it's the off season for you. I shouldn't have said anything."

Lando frowns at you, confusion knitting his brow together. "We...we aren’t friends?" The hurt in his voice was unmistakable, tugging painfully at something in the pit of your stomach.

Your eyes shutter close at the look on his face. Lando might play the lovable goofball for the public and in the press but you knew better. You knew that he was a pretty big softie at heart and you immediately regretted your words, knowing that they would have struck him deep.

"What was I supposed to think, Lan? You seemed pretty put off when you found out about Stella and then you just..." You pause, unsure of where this anger was coming from. You hadn't really realized how hurt you had bene by his sudden ghosting until this very moment. "You just sort of disappeared. It's fine. I'm totally used to it."

The vulnerability in your voice makes Lando's heart clench painfully. He had been spooked initially about you having a daughter and he knew his reaction probably left a lot to be desired. He just had been so blindsided by the appearance of your little girl that night that he hadn't handled it well. Lando had been unwilling to admit before that night during the holiday party that he had been becoming more and more attached to you and he didn't know where Stella fell into place between you and him. It scared him, adding an entirely new layer to the budding friendship that you two had struck up. A friendship that he had been wanting to see if it could have progressed into more but now...now he didn't know.

"Momma, can we get Papa a mixer so he can make me more cakes next year?" Stella's small voice interrupts that awkward silence that had fallen between you and Lando.

You can't help the chuckle that leaves your lips despite yourself. "Stella, I don't think that's a very good reason to gift someone something."

"I don't know, sounds like solid reasoning to me." Lando chimes in, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looks down at Stella. "Hi, I'm Lando." He crouches down so he's eye level with your daughter.

"That's a funny name." Stella regards Lando with a suspicious look. Stella is a quiet little mouse of a child most of the time and doesn't easily trust adults. There are very few people she's comfortable which is why her comment catches you off guard.

"Stella!" You scold, face going crimson at the lack of filter on her.

To your relief, Lando just chuckles. "I guess you're right, it is kind of a funny name. But I think Stella is a funny name too."

Stella' narrows her eyes but then she seems to realize he's just teasing her and she smiles. "I like you." She declares simply, as if deciding to be Lando's friend is the easiest thing in the world.

A fact that you already know is true.

"I'm hungry. Can we go get dinner now?" Stella turns back to you now and you startle a bit when you realize what time it is.

"Let me take you two to dinner. There's a place down the street that has some of the best chicken nuggets in all of England." Lando's offer throws you off for a moment you're so surprised. "As an apology for making you question our friendship."

Stella gasps as if that is the most exciting suggestion she's ever heard in her life. Your stomach does a quick swoop at spending more time with the driver outside of the office. You are a bit hesitant, pride still stinging from when he ignored you after the holiday party, but Stella looks so excited you find yourself nodding.

Twenty minutes and one espresso machine later, you have the giant package shipped off to your house before walking towards a cozy pub that Lando suggests. It's strange to you, walking down the crowded streets with Stella tucked between you and Lando, listening to her prattle away. Once in a while, Lando shoots you a look over the top of your daughter's head that is all amusement and happiness.

Meanwhile, you're reduced to silence, listening in awe to Stella's babbling. She has always been a reserved little girl, following in her mother's footsteps of being an introvert. She doesn't open up to just anyone and even when she does find an adult she likes, it takes her quite a bit of time to talk to them the way she's talking to Lando as he navigates the three of you towards your destination.

Around you, people bustle up and down the sidewalk, the streets of London an absolute hive of activity and it's a bit overwhelming. You're momentarily worried about Stella, knowing she doesn't do very good in crowds just like you but then something catches your eye that has your heart leaping into your throat. Captured in Lando's large hand is Stella's tiny one, a silent gesture of affection from your six-year-old. The way your chest squeezes at the sight has tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

Lando catches the look on your face, full of awe and something else he can't quite place, and when your gaze snags on his moments later he gives you a dazzling smile. When Stella had reached out to take Lando's hand a few blocks ago, he had panicked a bit. He wasn't too experienced with kids, his niece’s being much younger than Stella, but he felt something deep in his chest that told him when the little girl beside him reached for his hand, it was a sincere sign of trust from her.

"Here we are." Lando says once you're safely across the road. "I hope you're ready for the best chicken nuggets in all of London."

Dinner is a loud affair, Stella peppering questions left and right to Lando and Lando expertly fielding them. He even gets some questions in edgewise and has both you and Stella laughing the entire meal. It's the most relaxed Lando's seen you the entire time he's known you. Despite his initial reservations at spending time with someone who has a child, he finds himself not wanting the evening to end. He's never been so thankful for last minute gift requests in his entire life.

Your bellies are full when you spill out onto the sidewalk, the chilly London air biting at your cheeks. It was going to be a cold train ride home. You reach into your tote bag to pull out a scarf and hat, tugging both on Stella despite her yowls of displeasure.

"Stella." You sigh, finally getting her to leave her hat on her head after a tense few moments as Lando watched on, smile sitting at the edge of his lips. "Come on, it's cold tonight and you know the train isn't much better."

"Train?" Lando asks, frown appearing on his face.

"We took the train into the city today. Someone wanted an adventure." You look pointedly at your daughter, who just shrugs, totally unfazed by the chilly evening air.

"That's like, a forty-five minute trip! On the train? At night? Alone?"

Something twists in Lando's stomach at the thought of you and Stella all alone on the train at night. He knows the trains are, objectively, safe and you'd probably be fine but it just doesn't sit right with him knowing that he'd have to leave both of you at a train station unable to be with you in case something happened.

"I know." You breathe, knowing that the moment Stella sits down on the train she's going to be out like a light and you're going to have a very grumpy six-year-old on your hands on the other end of the line. "I don't have a choice, I'm not ordering an Uber home. It'll be fine, Lando. We do this all the time."

The thought of you navigating the crowded train alone with the tiny wisp of a girl that tucked her hand back into his as soon as she got close enough to him hurts a surprising amount. It's a jarring feeling, one that he's totally unprepared for. His memory darts back to the night he found out you had a daughter. He thought for sure the budding chemistry between you would fizzle out. He had thought that he wasn't interested in getting involved with someone who had a child because it complicated things to a degree he wasn't sure he was ready for. He still struggled with looking after himself successfully sometimes. Dating someone with a child? Up until this very moment, Lando thought that was completely off the table.

"You're not taking the train home. I'll drive you." Lando's voice has an edge of finality in it that tells you this is going to be a fight, one that you're not sure you're prepared to fight.

You blink up at him, unable to form a response for several moments. Beside you, Stella cheers. "Yes! No boring train!"

"Woah, slow down." You warn, shaking your head. "Lando, I appreciate the offer but we can't." Stella looks absolutely crestfallen next to you as she yanks her hand out of Lando's grasp and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Why not?" Lando's frown mirrors Stella's and you nearly laugh.

Beside the fact that he couldn't stand the thought of you on the train by yourself with Stella this late at night, Lando didn't really want the night to end. He had sat across from you at dinner and there were several moments while Stella chattered on that he caught your gaze and you had given him the most prettiest smile he'd ever seen.

"Well, for one, Stella needs a booster seat to ride in a car and I don't think those come standard in Ferrari's or McLaren's."

"For the record, I drove my Range Rover into the city." Lando retorts before glancing around the crowded city street. "Look! There's a Mamas & Papas across the street! That's where my brother got my niece’s carseat a few months ago. I'm sure they sell booster seats too."

You can't help but stare at Lando, a bit dumbfounded. When you had started getting to know the driver months ago, you had what you had thought was a pretty accurate idea of who he was off the track: young, sinfully good looking, deeply unserious, and only interested in partying and having a good time. But voluntarily spending an evening with you and your daughter? Offering to buy Stella a booster so he could drive you home? The way Lando surprised you in that moment had you swaying on your feet a bit.

"Can we, Momma? Please! I want to drive home with Lando!"

There are two sets of big puppy dog eyes turned on you and you find yourself tossing your hands up in the air in defeat. "That's not fair! You two can't team up against me!"

Lando looks down at Stella, mischievous grin overtaking his handsome face. "I think we won, Stelly Belly." He shout-whispers, eyes sliding over to you, giving you a wink.

"You two are going to be trouble together, aren't you?" Is the last thing you say before Lando grabs your hand and drags you towards the shop to buy your daughter a booster seat.

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[thelostconsultant]

Lando Norris x reader

summary: You and Lando got married before the beginning of the season, but no one knows you’re together. You make a bet at the wedding, and Lando truly believes he can get through the season with everyone believing he’s single.

about the fc: The one in the red hoodie is just a random girl from pinterest, because I love that hoodie. Don't see too much into this, I'm not having that conversation again.

“What?” you ask, although it comes out more like a bark than a well formulated question.

Lando has been watching you with that stupid grin of his for long minutes now, and you can’t hide your annoyance any longer. You love him, you really do, but God, isn’t he annoying sometimes? As you wait for his response, he holds up a finger and opens a video on his phone for you.

It’s him at the last race weekend, standing on the stage with Oscar. Nothing new. But then he talks about being single, and after this part he quickly moves over to the comments. Everyone is either offering to date him or feels sorry for him, there is no in between. But you can’t feel sorry for him. 

“You’re still gonna lose,” you tell him with a laugh.

With a thoughtful hum, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you against his chest. “You read the comments. I’m the people’s princess, they feel so sorry for me. No one suspects a thing. I’m safe,” he says with a confident smile.

Over half a year ago, on the day of your secret wedding at a remote part of the world, the two of you made a bet. You said he wouldn’t be able to keep this secret, that there was no way he could last this season without people finding out he was not only in a relationship, but married too. He begged to differ, saying he was pretty good at keeping secrets.

Now, after all those months, you sometimes have your weak moments when you are sure you would lose, although this is something you are under no circumstances about to tell him. His ego is already big enough when it comes to the bet, the last thing you want is things getting worse in this sense.

If he wins, he will get the right to decide when and how to announce your marriage. And if it’s up to him, it will be a hard launch, like a wrecking ball crashing into a building to tear down the walls. He wants chaos, he wants everyone to know how much he loves you. It’s flattering, really, but can he not?

Because Lando wants a big, flashy event with all of his friends from on and off the grid, and he wants alcohol to flow like water while the music blasts loudly around you. It would only come to an abrupt stop the moment he grabs the mic and announces how much he loves his wife, only to cause the guests to murmur loudly as they try to figure out if he’s just drunk or dead serious.

If you win, it will mean people found out about you, so your prize would be something other than how you make this relationship public. But what could you ask for? So, in the end, you told him you would get to make a wish one day when you figured out what you wanted, and he couldn’t say no when you asked.

As of now, people don’t know about you at all. You are just a nameless McLaren employee to them who sometimes shows up on photos with the rest of the team. To make sure you can stay in the background, he even asks one or two girls during the time you are still in the dating phase to pose as his girlfriends for a while. It only comes with a few photos and posts, sometimes appearances in the paddock. Nothing serious, really.

While you can wear your wedding band all the time, Lando doesn’t have the freedom to do the same. Sure, he has it, safely locked away with the rest of your jewelry until the day your marriage becomes public. Now he only has a necklace with a pendant you chose, your initials engraved into it with small letters so it won’t be too obvious on photos.

“I’ve been thinking,” you suddenly say, moving your head a little so you can look him in the eye. When he lets out a questioning hum and flashes a smile at you, you reach out to play with his pendant. “Why don’t we raise the stakes in our little bet?”

Lando kisses your cheek, then he says, “You hate it that I’m winning.”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sigh. “No, I just had an idea for a little experiment. What if you wore your wedding band on the next race weekend?” you ask with an innocent look on your face.

It's mean, you know that, because this will surely draw attention to him. Wearing his ring could only result in losing the game. But you have to do something, you want to win. Well, you just don’t want your dear husband to win, but that’s almost the same. 

“That would be too obvious,” he replies with a shake of his head.

“Buy a few more and say you’re copying Lewis,” you offer with a cheeky grin. 

He shakes his head with a laugh, then takes a deep breath. “And what do I get if they don’t notice?” 

You have thought a lot about this, because you know it has to be something big, something he really wants. And there is only one thing that came to your mind. “You get two kids,” you tell him casually. 

But Lando isn’t stupid, he knows this is the moment to negotiate. “Hmm… You know I want a big family. Three and I’ll do it.”

He will lose anyway, so why would you say no? “All right, three. But if I win, we’ll only have one,” you remind him.

He nods before leaning down to kiss you. “I’ll win, so you can start picking names,” he says with a confident grin.

You: Sorry, babe, you officially lost the bet. <link>

A few seconds later your phone rings, and you answer Lando’s call with a satisfied smile on your face. You just want to rub it in his face, you want him to know he lost the bet. To be honest, ever since you’ve seen this post, you’ve been thinking about what to ask for, and a soft launch of your relationship sounds quite nice. 

“I didn’t lose,” he says right away. 

“You saw the post, someone spotted the ring.”

To your surprise, Lando starts to laugh, a carefree sound that makes it clear he’s sure he’s winning this. “Do you want me to remind you that you’re not here with me right now? And that video of us was recorded during the summer break in Greece. The bet was about me wearing the ring this weekend. So no, sweetheart, you definitely did not win this one,” he explains, and you can imagine that smug smirk on his face. 

“Still, the original bet–”

He tuts to interrupt you. “No, no, you changed the rules with the ring. I won. No one noticed it this weekend.”

“Let’s call it a tie,” you try, although you know he has you in a corner now. 

“I want to talk about the prize,” he begins, waiting until he hears you hum to let him go on. “We agreed that if I win, we’ll have three kids, if you win, we’ll only have one. If it’s a tie, then fine, let’s settle with two.”

You remain silent for a while as you think about this. He’s right, it would be only fair to reach a compromise, and in this case it involves the number of your future children. If it’s a tie, then two is the logical conclusion, there is no reason to argue with him. So, you take a deep breath that you let out slowly until you gather your thoughts. “All right, fine. And what about us? I mean, our relationship. Do we keep it a secret, or…?”

“What do you want? If you’d rather not be in the spotlight, we can deny everything if there’ll be a bigger buzz about that tweet,” he says kindly, his patience with you painfully obvious. 

But you don’t want to hide, you want things to be out in the open now. “I’d say let’s do a soft launch with mysterious posts for a while. But if you have a different idea, I’m open to it,” you assure him. 

Lando lets out a thoughtful hum. “We have a short break now, soooooo… Okay, we do the soft launch, but you come to the next race with me, as yourself, not disguised as a McLaren team member, and we’ll wear our rings and everything.”

“That’s pretty much a hard launch.”

There’s a scoff on the other end of the line. “You get almost two weeks of soft launch, what more do you want? Come on, I need you by my side,” he begs you sweetly. 

You agree. There’s no way you can say no to him.

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landonorris: My wife, the queen of the house 😍🥰❤️

tagged: yourusername

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yourusername: LANDO!

⤷ landonorris: Yes, love?

⤷ yourusername: You said you’ll give me two weeks. That’s it, you’re sleeping on the couch when you get home.

oscarpiastri: What did I miss? Last time we talked, you were chronically single.

⤷ landonorris: I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’ve been happily married for over half a year.

⤷ user1: WHAT?!

user2: Lando being married was not on my bingo card.

maxverstappen1: My wedding invitation must have been lost in the mail.

⤷ landonorris: Sorry, it was just the two of us.

user3: I’m so happy, you deserve all the love!!!

user4: We have a new WAG, woo-hoo! But please yourusername don’t make him sleep on the couch 😭

⤷ yourusername: I’ll reconsider that decision.