#so it's going to be a long drive after all...

[darkbluekies]

Countryside getaway

Yandere!mafia oc x reader

Summary: Silas has decided that the two of you should spend some time together, far away from his world, and you get to experience each other's real sides. No fear, no worries.

Warnings: mentions of crimes, mentions of murder, Silas dirty minded humor, but overall a softer oneshot

Word count: 2.3k

No one knows where you're going. Not even you. He has one hand on the steeringwheel, the other one holds your thigh. 

He's wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the tattoos on his arms.

“Keep your eyes on the road, map reader, or we'll never get there”, Silas says, giving you a teasing look.

“You have a GPS”, you mutter and turn your head more comfortably against the pillow.

“My GPS does not have your voice.”

“I don't even know where we're going.”

“You don't have to. Just read the directions.”

“How much further do we have to go? We've been sitting here for hours …”

“I did not know I had brought a child with me. I've planned something romantic and you're just complaining.” He caresses your thigh with his thumb, chuckling. “One more hour, little thing. That good enough for you?”

You groan and hide your face in the pillow and he laughs. He's different like this, when he's not surrounded by his men. When he's not in that space. Here, in his sports car with just the two of you, he's different. Softer. Human. It loosens your walls too.

“So whiny”, he chuckles. “Slept bad?”

“Don't kid”, you mutter and make yourself comfortable against the pillow again.

“Maybe we both need this. I need a break and you need to be able to sleep. Can't do that at home, can you?”

No, you can't. Not when he comes home in the middle of the night, bloody and roughed up. At home, you wake to every little sound with your heart beating in your chest.

“You know”, Silas starts, “its important to do this. To get away. Especially in my industry. Otherwise you get consumed.”

“Will SIC be able to handle things?”

“He has no choice.”

“Are you really okay to go by yourself? You’re recognizable.”

“Darling, they can't do anything. Thankfully, the law is strict and as long as there is no evidence connecting me to something they can't actually take me. They can suspect me, but never catch me. I'm fine.” He smirks, glancing at you. “Why? You're worried?”

You give him a glare and turn your head out the window.

“I'll break that facade down, Y/N”, he smiles and leans back in his seat. “We have four days all to ourselves. And I'll make the most of it.” His smirk deepens. “With no one around … I can take you just however I want to, whenever. And if I'm not wrong, SIC said that the house is remote. You can be as loud as you want.”

You slap his shoulder.

“Ouch, I'm driving here”, he chuckles. “Mind your hands?”

“Focus on your driving then.”

“How can I when you're sitting right here?”

His free hand on your thigh squeezes ever so slightly. You stare at him, contemplating opening the door and throwing yourself out on the highway.

The car has since long ago pulled in on a gravel road with no cars. Red flowers cover the fields around you, and for a second you're sure he has orchestrated it. 

The house is smaller than Silas's house back in the city, less modern. 

“Jump out, little thing”, he says as he unbuckles himself. “We're here.”

You stretch, legs wobbly from hours of sitting down. Silas unlocks the trunk and carries your bags inside. You stand in the middle of the gravel driveway, looking around and listening to the absolute lack of noise.

“Are you coming or what?” Silas asks from the front door. “Don't be slow or I'll carry you too. No gentler than these bags.”

You hurry after him. He smirks.

It's not hard finding the bedroom. A note lay in the bedding. Silas picks it up and scoffs at the familiar handwriting.

“Be nice to the bed, it's old, you break if you pay for it — SIC.”

“That son of a bitch”, Silas chuckles and turns to you, showing the note. “Seems like he read my mind.”

“You are kind of predictable”, you say.

Silas starts to walk towards you, backing you up against the nearest wall, wearing a soft smirk. “Me? Predictable? If I was predictable I wouldn't be a crime organization leader, my dumb little Y/N.”

You shrug. “I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, you’re good at saying things.” His hand sneaks up to your jaw. “How about you put your poor mouth to other uses for once? I know a pair of lips that would die to meet them.”

His cheesiness makes you scoff out a small smile, enough for him to close the distance. Ever since you’ve forced him to start using lip balm, his mouth is soft when it moves against yours. You sigh out and he swallows the sound in a greedy inhale. He holds you close, one hand on your back, the other on your jaw. 

“Silas, you’ll bruise my lips”, you chuckle and try to turn your head away. 

“Let me”, he breathes and directs you right back to his mouth. 

And he does. He doesn’t half-ass things. He pulls back with proudness in his eyes. 

“Let’s go shopping now.”

“Shopping?”

“We need food. Can’t just live off each other, unfortunately.”

He grabs your hand and leads you back out to the black sports car and you’re once again put on map reader duty to find the nearest grocery store. You can’t remember the last time you’ve actually grocery shopped with him. Normally, he sends out someone to buy things, and if he can’t trust anyone, he sends SIC. Just because Silas can’t be arrested, doesn’t mean he’s a hundred percent safe. 

“Alright”, he mutters and grabs a cart. “Let’s pretend to be a normal couple.”

You can’t help but chuckle and he gives you a quick look. 

“Let’s get this shitshow on the road, let’s go”, he mutters and nods at you to follow. “Don’t start running around or I’ll place you in the cart like a three year old. Okay, what do we need?”

“You need steak”, you joke. 

“Damn right I do, but I get my steak from high quality butchers, I’ll get sick if I get it from a grocery store.”

“Aw, is your little tummy sensitive?” you ask, making sure it sounds more like “wittle”.

“Y/N, I’m warning you.”

His warning isn’t serious. Not now. Not like this. It only maks you smile. 

“Are you going to be a brat all vacation just because you think I won’t do anything?” Silas asks behind you, pushing the cart into your back. “I did tell you we are remote, didn’t I?”

“Don't touch me or I'll scream.”

“Oh, you'll scream alright.”

“Silas!”

He chuckles, eyes softening. “I couldn't help it. You played that into my hands a bit too good to pass up on.”

“You’re so childish. Maybe you should tone it down on the threatening part if you don’t want more people staring at you. You don’t need to give them a reason to recognise you.”

Silas scoffs, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. He enjoys this side of you way too much. He can only enjoy it in situations like this, far away from his world. When you're not scared of him.

“What's the budget?” you ask him.

“What?” 

“The budget? You said to pretend to be a normal couple. Normal couples don't have your credit card.”

Silas groans audibly.

“I'm not compromising my money”, he says. “Stop messing around, grab what you want.”

You handle the actual shopping part while he pushes the cart behind you. People glance at him, if not for recognising him, then for his tattoos, but he pretends to be unaware. 

“Little thing.”

“Hm?”

“Grab those.”

You follow where he nods. Chips. They fall into the cart. So do a lot of other things Silas usually doesn't buy.

“Might as well go for it now that SIC can't bully me”, he shrugs. 

The cashier seems to recognise Silas, but she doesn't say anything. Silas is polite and wishes her a good day, as if he wasn't who she thought he was, before turning to you and grabbing the plastic bags.

Back at the house, he puts everything into the fridge and starts to cook right away. 

“You’re not allowed to help”, he says and taps your forehead. “I want to actually eat tonight.”

“I can cook”, you insist. 

“Yeah. Sure. How about you go and set the table while I handle the knives and the stove?”

“Fine.”

You do as you’re told, searching the drawers for cutlery and plates. He glances at you from time to time and can’t help but smile. Maybe this was what he wanted all along? To play family.

“It’s not often we get to do this”, he says as he plates the food. “Domestic things, I mean. Should enjoy it while we can. Oh, I saw a pool out in the backyard, by the way. I think we should try it out after dinner. I brought alcohol from back home.”

“Drinking and swimming doesn’t sound very safe.”

“Then you’ll just have to rescue me. They didn’t teach you life guard duty in swimming class?”

“Yes, but they didn’t prepare me to drag a man that weighs enough to crush a car.”

“So my workouts are working?” His grin widens as he takes a sip of his water. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Conversation die out for a moment, but Silas won’t let the night pass. 

“So?” he says. “Don’t you have something to say?”

“What?” you ask. 

“We don’t often get to just talk. Spew something out. Anything.”

You think for a moment. You usually have a lot of thoughts, but when put on the spot all seem to vanish. 

“I like the food.”

Silas laughs. Actually laughs. You haven’t hard a genuine, carefree laugh from him in a long time. His back eyes curl into half moons. 

“What?” you ask. “What is it?”

“You can say a million things and that’s what you choose to say?” he says. “That the food is good? I didn’t think I cooked that good food, enough for that to be the only thing you think of.”

“You put me on the spot, I just said the first thing that came to mind!”

“Try again, then.”

“Well … I … could really go for some alcohol right now.”

Silas smiles and rises from his chair. He disappears out of the room and returns with two bottles. One brandy, one red wine.

“Okay, your majesty”, he says. “Which fancies your taste buds?”

“Wine, probably. Fits better with dinner. You'll get brandy, I suspect?”

“You know me well.” He opens both bottles and pours. “I'm responsible for you, so it's my duty to make sure you don't get absolutely decked.”

“I thought I was the one that had to make sure you didn't fall face down in the pool?”

“Yeah, but let's be realistic for a second. I can hold my alcohol �� you? Please.”

“Rude.”

“It is not rude if I'm stating facts, you just want to deny your incapable alcohol consumption.”

You take a sip of your wine and glare at him.

Silas jokingly suggests you both skinny dip. You shoot down the idea. He's a predator, taking your whole arm if you foolishly give him a finger. You'd like your body working for your getaway.

You're not sure what prompts him, the alcohol or his childishness, to jump into the pool like a bomb. Water splashes everywhere, both on your dry form and your towels, and he breaks the surface with a wide grin. He pushes his black hair back and swims over to the edge. His tattoos warp under the water.

“I’m wet now”, you say in a ‘matter of fact’ tone. 

He looks up at you, squinting one eye full of water shut. “Yeah? Jump in then.”

You decide to get in slowly, but he has other plans. His hand grips your wrist and pulls you into the pool. You yelp, but never have a second to worry about inhaling water, because he holds you.

“So much drama for nothing”, Silas chuckles and wipes water out of your eyes. "I've got you.”

His tattooed arms half hug you, half cradle you as he sways back and forth in the water.

“Today”, you start, hesitant, “when we were at the grocery store, and people looked at you, and what you said before that … I started to think about something just now.”

“What?” he asks softly.

“What do I do if you're taken? Or killed?”

“That will never happen.”

“But what if it does?”

Silas sighs, arms around you tightening slightly.

“If I ever were to never come back home for whatever reasons”, he started slowly, “then SIC would follow the instructions I’ve told him.”

“What are those?”

“To get you far away from everything and everyone and keep you safe. You'd get a cute little house on the coast where you could live peacefully. You'd have my dog, and how many bodyguards it takes to replace me. SIC would be there too. He’d check up on you.”

“That sounds pretty lonely.”

“What? Are you planning to become the Great Gatsby after I disappear?”

He caresses your face with a wet hand.

“I have money put away for you in case anything happens”, he promises and rolls his eyes. “And I might have made a deal with the devil to get you new papers in case something happens.”

“Who?”

“The parasite I'm unfortunately to call brother.”

“Ares?”

“Don't say his name. Let's drop this now. I don't want to think about it. Especially since it won't happen.”

The entire wine bottle is empty once the two of you get out of the pool and head to bed. Silas wears a dark Grey hoodie and sweatpants, insisting you wear comfy clothes too. He thinks it is better for cuddles. You're wrapped in his hoodie covered arms, face pressed to his chest. You'll be damned if you try to get out of his arms any time before morning hours.

Somehow, you wish this little getaway could last forever. Life would be easier that way. Silas sighs out, unbeknownst thinking the exact same thing. 

[ridingreeves]

𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝗈➤𝟤

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀－𝖤𝗅𝗂𝗃𝖺𝗁*𝖲𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾*𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗑 𝖡𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒－𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖲𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾’𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾－𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌

𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌－𝖧𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾，𝖭－𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾，𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼 𝖾𝗑 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾，𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋

A/N- im not good at part two's so i hope you enjoy it 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗆𝖺 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽❤︎︎

Smoke’s name lit up your phone just after 11 p.m.

You were already turned away from the light, arm tucked under your pillow, trying to pretend the day didn’t shake you. But that name on your screen?

It flipped your whole body heat like a switch.

You groaned and answered anyway. “What, Elijah?”

Smoke chuckled, low and gravelly like he’d been waiting for you to cave. “Damn. Full government? You mad or tryna be professional?”

“I’m tryna go to sleep.”

“Yeah? Thought maybe you was waitin’ on him to get home. But that nigga probably still somewhere drinkin’ kombucha and talkin’ about tax brackets.”

You sighed, loud. “What do you want?”

“You doin’ somethin’ Saturday?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I said—Saturday. You busy?”

You sat up a little. “Why?”

“Family cookout,” he said like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just turned your whole emotional equilibrium inside out hours earlier. “Stack throwin’ some ribs on the grill, aunties bringin’ plates, kids gon’ be in the yard actin’ up… you know the drill.”

Your voice flattened. “So? What’s that got to do with me?”

Smoke hesitated, just for a second. Then came the truth.

“Wanna see you there.”

You nearly laughed. “Why would I come to your family cookout?”

“Because you family,” he said, voice low and firm. “Still my son’s mama. Still got my last name. And ‘cause you already know my people been askin’ about you.”

“Oh, have they?” you said, sarcastically.

“Yup,” he said. “Aunt Dee talkin’ ‘bout how you used to bring them red velvet cupcakes, askin’ if you finally left that boy who look like he drive a Prius and listen to meditation playlists.”

You sighed. “Smoke…”

“Look, I’m not askin’ you to come over here and confess your love. I’m sayin’… I'm taking lil man. Come eat. Chill. Be around folks who know you.”

“And him?” you asked.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Smoke scoffed. “Man, he not invited. Hell, if he pull up in them tight-ass pants talkin’ about chakras, Stack gon’ put him on the grill next to the sausages.”

Despite yourself, you snorted.

“C’mon,” Smoke said, quieter now. “You ain’t gotta stay long. Just come through. Our boy gon be running around with his cousins. Let your hair down.”

“I don’t know…”

“Let me make it easy,” he said, voice slick now, confident. “If you don’t pull up Saturday, Stack gon’ post that baby picture of you at our gender reveal. The one where you fell asleep holdin’ that blue onesie with cupcake on your face.”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“I already sent it to his phone.”

“Smoke!”

He laughed. Like deep, belly-rolling, “I got her” laughed.

“That’s dirty.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But it’s family business, right?”

You were quiet for a long moment. The idea of seeing them all again—his people, your people once upon a time—was dangerous. You knew that. Knew it’d be stepping back into something you worked too hard to walk away from.

But also?

You missed them.

You missed you—the version of you who laughed too loud on plastic lawn chairs with a cup full of spiked sweet tea. The you who wore crop tops and hoop earrings without worrying about what her new man would think.

“…What time?”

Smoke didn’t say “I knew you’d come,” but you could hear it in the way he exhaled through a grin.

“Three. Bring some of that pasta salad they always beg you for.”

You sighed again, but softer this time. “You better not start with me when I get there.”

“I won’t,” he said, voice low. “I’ma just be happy to see you. And maybe… remind you what you walked away from.”

You shook your head. “You never stop, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you? Nah.”

You didn’t say goodbye. You just hung up and stared at the ceiling in the dark, heart pounding louder than it should’ve been.

SATURDAY

The music hit you before you even turned onto the street—classic Frankie Beverly & Maze, the anthem of every Black barbecue across the country. You rolled down the window a little and smiled despite yourself.

You hadn’t even parked before your son ran to your car.

“They got the bouncy house again.”

“Do they,” you said, trying to keep it cool.

He lit up like a firecracker anyway. “YESSS!”

You parked down the block. Far enough away to feel like you could slip out if things got weird. Close enough to be seen.

And oh, you were seen.

Stack spotted you first, posted by the grill with a white towel over his shoulder and a pair of tongs in one hand.

“Look what the wind blew in!” he yelled, grinning. “Look at her—comin’ through with the thighs out like she ain’t been missed!”

 “So where yo’ boyfriend at? He don’t do sun, or he just allergic to bein’ useful?”

You rolled your eyes. “He had to work.”

Stack laughed like that was the funniest lie he’d ever heard. “Of course he did. Probably somewhere tryna sell somebody an extended warranty.”

“Stack—”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your sunglasses. “Don’t start.”

Stack came over to you, watching your boy run back with his cousins, then winked at you. “Your man let you out the house wearin’ that, huh? He brave.”

You didn’t answer. Just walked behind your boy toward the backyard where all the noise was coming from—kids hollering, grown folks talking over each other, people playing cards.

And then you saw him.

Smoke.

In a black tee, chain glinting in the sunlight, red Solo cup in one hand, leaning back in a lawn chair like he didn’t start half the drama in your life—and dare you to hold it against him.

He stood up when he saw you, smile slow, easy. Dangerous.

“Look who decided to bless the function,” he said, eyes sliding down your body.

“Relax,” you muttered. “I’m just here for my son.”

“Mmhm,” he said, stepping in close enough that only you could hear. “But you brought that sundress and them hoops like you knew I was gon’ be lookin’. That for me, mama?”

You pushed past him.

But the heat in your chest betrayed you.

⸻

The afternoon rolled on in that chaotic, beautiful way only family cookouts can. Kids in the sprinkler. Aunt Dee yelling at folks not to touch her potato salad. Stack on the grill talking ‘bout “I do this,” while burning the hot dogs anyway.

You sat on the folding chair under the tent, trying to stay cool and low-key, sipping sweet tea and avoiding all the side-eyes and slick comments from Smoke’s nosy-ass cousins.

You hadn’t been around in a while, but they remembered.

“Ohhh, she came back,” one of them whispered, not quiet enough.

“Lookin’ like she ain’t missed a beat,” another said, fanning herself.

Smoke was everywhere—tossing his son over his shoulder into the bounce house, cracking jokes with Stack, throwing shade with charm. But every time you glanced up, his eyes were already on you.

Like he never stopped watchin’.

Like he never would.

⸻

Later, when the sun was low…

You were sitting alone now, your son passed out under one of the tents with a plate next to him, cheeks sticky and hair wild.

You leaned back, trying to breathe. Trying to remember why you said you’d come.

Then, of course, Smoke appeared.

He sat down beside you, close but not touching. Just enough for the air between you to get thick.

“Appreciate you comin’,” he said.

You nodded.

He nudged your knee with his.

“You remember last summer’s cookout?” he asked. “Before everything fell apart?”

You looked at him. “Yeah. I remember.”

“You was dancin’ to that Fantasia song like you ain’t had no worries. I remember thinkin’, ‘Damn. That’s mine. Ain’t no way she ever leavin’.’”

Your chest ached. Because you remembered too. How good it had been before it wasn’t.

He turned toward you, full now. Honest. Dangerous in a new way.

“Everybody out here keep sayin’ we done,” he murmured. “But they don’t know how we built this. What we survived together. What we still feel. You think you can run from that, mama? But you always end up back here.”

“Back here don’t mean I’m stayin’.”

“Yeah?” he said. “Then why you still got that ring in your jewelry box?”

You looked at him, stunned.

He smirked. “Yeah. Ej told me. Said you wear it sometimes when you think nobody lookin’. Said you said it was ‘just a memory.’ But you don’t keep memories in velvet cases, do you?”

You stood fast, heart in your throat.

“I gotta go.”

Smoke stood too, but slower. Measured.

“You sure?” he asked. “’Cause you ain’t even tasted Stack’s ribs yet. Or had your second plate. Let me walk you to the car like I used to.”

You didn’t answer.

You just walked to your sleeping son, lifted him gently, kissed his sticky forehead.

Smoke followed behind you all the way to your car.

You laid your baby in the back seat, adjusted the belt, then turned around—and there he was. That same damn look on his face. Like he knew.

“Thanks for today,” you said, voice soft.

“You gon’ thank me better later?” he teased, but there was an ache in it. Something deeper.

You looked at him for a long second. Then whispered

“Smoke… don’t make me come back if you not gon’ keep me this time.”

His jaw clenched.

He stepped forward, hand brushing your wrist.

“I ain’t never stopped wantin’ to.”

You didn’t kiss him. Didn’t let him kiss you.

But the promise hung in the air.

And when you drove off that time, hands still trembling slightly on the wheel?

You weren’t scared like before.

You were curious.

Because you knew now—

That door?

Wasn’t as closed as you told yourself it was.

[monstersholygrail]

Untouched Power

Demon x Witch!reader— praise, body worship, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, scratching, biting, squirting, creampie, multiple orgasms

When your coven members started getting sick, dark horrifying jagged marks blooming on their skin, they all looked to you for answers. You weren’t coven leader, not by far, you were only their humble head healer. This was the kind of stuff you specialized in yet even you had no idea what was going on.

But witch after witch was appearing on your doorstep, their faces scared, desperately begging you for help. Of course you did what you could but the illness was such a peculiar thing, you could barely make sense of it.

With each new blot that formed the witch’s magic grew more powerful but also more unstable. The marks consumed them until they could no longer control their magic and it became a liability to allow them to continue their practice. Which was another issue as the illness also raised their aggression levels tenfold. Even the slightest uptick in their heartbeat could unleash a raging current of magic.

Most cases, no matter how much you tried to stop it, ended in the death of a witch and fewer answers than you started with.

For some it came on quicker and for others it was like a slow crawl. Yet it always reached its end and you could never catch up with it. That is until it finally caught up with you.

Haunting tendrils that began to form on your hands as if the illness was mocking you. You had failed to heal your coven members and now you’d fail to save yourself before it was too late and it’d claim another witch.

You only allow yourself a few minutes to panic. There isn’t time to linger on it any longer. Not when you’re unsure how much you have left. But even as you move, scouring through countless old texts and forbidden spells, that frenzied fear is what drives you forward.

Days go by running through the same cycle. Reading the books, testing incantations and potions, refusing to collapse as another fails, and forcing yourself to start all over again. Each failed attempt threatens to destroy what little hope you have left. There has to be something— anything— you haven’t thought of.

That’s when it hits you. As much as the rationale side of you immediately rejects the idea, the other tells you it’s your last chance. For your coven, summoning a demon is quite possibly the greatest offense a witch can commit. You remind yourself of this over and over as you draw the circle in the dead of night.

Bright purple flames shoot straight to the ceiling as the Demon appears before you, in clothes from a time long ago and a piercing gaze that acts like he already knows what you’re about to ask. Yet when you show him the marks making their way up your arms a flicker of surprises passes over his expression.

He breaks through your summoning circle with ease, clawed hands grasp at your arms with a surprising tenderness. It still manages to send a fierce shiver down your spine. Under his inspection you try and remain normal, ignoring the way your body warms and hums under his touch. A growing throb echoing straight to your core.

“A witch forming marks? What is the meaning of this?” He asks in awe, and his own demonic marks shimmer under the candlelight.

A soft gasp leaves you at the familiar patterns you’ve seen so many times before on your fellow witches. How had you never realized this? The connection between a demons blots and the illness taking control of these witches. Suddenly it was all making sense, the deathly power surges that they couldn’t contain on their own.

“I was hoping you could help me figure that out,” you whisper and his gaze snaps up to meet yours, the hum in your body buzzing harder by the second.

Then it’s weeks that pass in the blink of an eye. You rarely leave your home and refuse to let anyone inside. It’s clear your coven members worry for you but that’s the last thing on your mind. With your days now full of this alluring demon who you can’t get enough of leaves space for little else.

He moves around your home like he owns it, having grown more comfortable there than you ever would’ve expected. The two of you have come to work in tandem, your hand reaching and his is already there waiting as you trade old books, passing each other ingredients without a thought while making potions you’ve never even heard of, and your bodies moving as one as you work.

Every interaction between you is charged with something deeper, something you don’t dare to speak of. Yet it speaks through every brush of your hand against his, how neither of you move away whenever you bump into the other, the smiles and glances you send each other that linger a few beats too long, and that both your marks shimmer in each others vicinity.

And just like the others, as your marks move up your arms and down your body, your power grows stronger. But something about this demon helps calm the magic swelling inside you. His presence soothes the storm, his touch calms the spikes of your emotions. Ones that are starting to happen far too often for comfort.

Leaning against the table you clench your fists as another wave of anger urges you to lash out, to unleash the emotion swirling inside you. Your body shakes with the force of trying to resist but you hold on as long as you can.

Just as fear it’ll overcome you, the demon’s chest molds against your back, his arms curl around you and tug you close. That soothing sensation courses through you and you sigh in relief, melting into his arms like you’ve been doing it your entire life.

“I hate these marks,” you murmur, voice filled with pain.

The demon freezes against you and for a long moment he doesn’t respond. Neither do you. Then a moment later he leans down, nuzzling into the streaks that have bloomed on your neck. His own shimmer and yours respond immediately.

“I don’t. I adore them. You just need to learn how to control them,” he rasps.

His breath on your skin makes that constant buzz return to your body as if calling out for him. Warm arousal bubbles up in your belly and looks in your panties. You know he can sense it all yet he doesn’t rush a thing.

“Your coven’s tapped into a power it wasn’t prepared to handle but you have me now. Let me help you.”

All you can feel anymore is him as his fingers skim across your skin, tilting your chin up just in time to claim your lips in a kiss that’s been a long time coming. A soft moan leaves you, your body turning to face him before he picks up your plush frame with ease and plops you down on top of the table.

Low demonic growls vibrate from his throat as he pushes at your clothes like they’re a nuisance, his lips curl in a sneer as his mouth dances with yours like he’s trying not to just tear them to shreds.

Only when the lack of oxygen pinches at your lungs does he break from the kiss and immediately make his way down your skin. Pressing feverish kisses along every inch of bare skin he exposes.

“Your marks… they’re gorgeous. Just like the rest of you. If only you’d embrace them, embrace me,” he pants against your chest and you gasp as he takes one of your perky buds into his mouth, sucking till they’re swollen, then moving onto the next.

You writhe against the table, small whimpers leaving you as you get hotter and hotter, the mess between your thighs dripping down your legs and onto the table.

As if he can sense just how needy you are he leans back and forces your thick thighs apart, groaning at the slick that gushes out of your weeping pussy.

“You even have them here. How beautiful,” he purrs.

His long clawed fingers slide through your folds, tracing the streaks till you’re crying out and rocking your hips into the movement. You get so lost in the rhythm and the constant stimulation that you don’t notice him replacing his fingers with his cock until he’s sliding in and stretching your sensitive walls to their very limits.

You start to scream only to have them silenced by his mouth as he kisses you again. Your magic pulses in time with your throbbing cunt as he starts thrusting his cock deep inside you, slipping deeper and deeper with each rock of his hips.

Meanwhile he fucks your mouth as hard as he fucks your pussy, swirling his tongue against yours in time with every brutal thrust. You feel his tip smash against your cervix just as his tongue pushes into your throat and suddenly he’s everywhere.

Consuming you from the inside out. For a second you panic, your nails scratching down his back and he hisses, picking up pace and rutting into you even harder. You feel unsteady, body moving in time with his only to realize it’s not your body moving but the magic inside you. As you let him in the overpowering magic settles into your bones like it’s always meant to be there and it increases your pleasure to a point you’ve never known.

The demon grunts as he slams his cock along your walls, molding you to the shape of him. He’s breathless but he’s never felt more alive than he does now and he can’t stop staring at the streaks that resemble his one. Like you’re his, all his now. It makes his cock swell within you.

“Tell me you love your marks as much as I do. I want to hear you,” he growls, ducking his head to worship every inch of marked skin he can reach.

You cry out, the pressure in your belly building, so close to bursting.

“I love my marks,” you whine, trying to sound convincing.

“Louder,” he snarls and nips at your throat.

Every thrust he makes you scream those words till you shatter around his cock, your vision flashing white and your release spraying out of you in a brilliant stream of arousal. Your demon roars as he buries himself to the hilt and sends spurt after spurt of his thick cum to splash against your cervix till you’re coming again for him.

He helps work you through the intense pleasure, rocking into you steadily and holding you close. When the fog starts to clear from your mind a burst of clarity booms and you realize you’ve been going about this all wrong. Trying to be rid of the streaks is impossible. It’s only through accepting them can you manage the power that comes with.

And all along it was your demon helping you to see that. To accept it. Now you think you finally are and if you can convince your coven members to do the same you think everything may just be ok.

Your marks glow in a silent heartfelt thank you. Warmth flows through you as his own shine in return. Both your body and souls now connected as one.

[crappymixtape]

tart like cherries, sweet like pie

you’re in the thick of summer and everything’s hot, sticky, sweet. after a long swim session in steve’s pool with the gang, you go to the diner, but when everyone starts to say their goodbyes, steve can’t stop thinking about you and the way you looked when you ate the cherry on top of your strawberry milkshake | (  1.7k, fluff, kinda smut, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

T A R T L I K E C H E R R I E S, S W E E T L I K E P I E 🎵 gap tooth smile, djo

“Touch my fries again, Munson, and you’re gonna owe me more than a dime bag!”

Robin slapped Eddie’s hand away from the red checkered basket sitting between them on the table.

“Aw, c’mon, Robs. Just one more? Promise,” the curly-haired boy smirked, holding out a pinky, only to be greeted with a skeptically flat look.

“Eventually someone needs to give us a ride back,” Mike snarked, mouth twisted around a frown, “Idiots.”

Max, Will, El, and Lucas all grumbled in agreement. You were all crammed into the half-moon bench seat at the back of the diner, tabletop covered in crumpled up burger wrappers and empty soda cups full of melting ice. After spending the too-hot August afternoon floating in the Harrington’s pool, you’d all begrudgingly crawled out, shoulders red and cheeks pink, to wander downtown in search of air conditioning.

“Hm,” Steve mused, “If only we knew someone with a van…” He grinned across from you, nudging your shin under the table with the toe of his shoe.

“Hey, now–” Eddie started, pointing a finger at the other boy.

“No, no. He has a point,” you cut in with a tut and a shrug, struggling to maintain a straight face.

“Not our fault you drive a mommy missile,” Robin snorted.

Eddie glared at all three of you, then added pointedly to Steve, “I thought you were the god dammed babysitter.”

“I was,” Steve replied agreeably, lacing his hands behind his head and giving him a saccharine sweet smile, “Until you so graciously joined this shit show.” Picking a fry from Robin’s basket, Steve held it between his teeth, “Besides, I gave rides back from the arcade last night, s’your turn.”

Roughing his hands over his face, Eddie groaned against his palms and stood from the table. IN classic Munson theatrics, the boy waved an arm in a big circle before shoving at Mike, “Alright douchebags, let’s go.”

“Wait–” Robin snatched another handful of fries and crammed a few in her mouth, “–I’m on the way, take me too.”

“Seriously?” Eddie gave Steve a desperate look.

“I’ve got a load of donation stuff in the backseat, only room for one with me.”

Steve gave you another grin, but this time it was a little softer, a little curious, and it made your stomach flip over, your brain lapsing for a half second before kickstarting again.

“Yeah–yeah, I can’t go yet. I haven’t even touched my shake,” you clumsily added, cheeks flush as you leaned down and took a long sip of blended strawberry ice cream.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie muttered under his breath, “Fine. Fine. I’ll be the responsible one–and don’t ever say I never did anything for you shitheads!”

“Oh my god–Saint Munson,” Max snarked, mouth tipped up in a half-grin when you and Steve choked on fries and milkshake, “Guardian of children and stupid, nerdy shit.”

Eddie frowned, hands on his hips, “Watch it, Red.”

Then, one by one, the kids all mumbled their goodbyes to you and Steve, giving one-armed hugs as they piled out of the rounded bench seat after Eddie who had already gotten halfway to the door.

“Praised be to Saint Munson!” Steve called after them and Eddie thanked him with an emphatically lifted middle finger without even looking back.

The bell at the front jingled happily as Lucas held the door open for the gang, and then, giving you both a little finger waggle goodbye, the diner fell quiet.

“Saint Munson,” Steve laughed under his breath, “Wish I’d thought of that.”

“You’ll get him next time,” you reassured, kicking at his foot under the table and it pulled his eyes up to meet yours. Warm, brown sugar and honey, framed with thick lashes, crinkled at the edges with a smile.

“Thanks, Bug.”

Your birthday’s in June? Oh, well then I’m gonna call you Bug. Is that okay? You know, like a June bug?

Bug.

Sweet Bug.

His Bug.

Heat crackled in your chest as you returned his smile and leaned down to take another sip of milkshake. Steve’s eyes were still on you, and when you wrapped your lips around your straw, the black of his irises bloomed outward, amber and caramel flashing dark. When he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing against the moles dotting down the column of his throat, you paused.

Friends since second grade, scraped knees and broken arms, summer’s spent floating in the pool and jumping into the quarry. Melted popsicles and dirt roads, coconut sunscreen and freckles, citrus and cedar and fresh laundry and

Steve. Steve. Steve.

Dipping your fingers into your glass, you picked up the cherry at the bottom and lifted it to your lips. Hesitating at the idea of what you were about to do, you watched as Steve blinked at you from across the table, lashes sweeping across the tops of his cheeks while his hands pressed heavy into the red, vinyl seat.

Putting the cherry to your glossy lips, you slipped your tongue under it, pulled it between your teeth and held it there for just a second, watching as Steve unraveled before your eyes. He bit down hard, jaw ticking, muscles strained and eyes glued to your mouth and the way your teeth pressed against the soft fruit, a dot of whipped cream clinging to the corner of your lips.

Finally, slowly, you sunk your teeth into it, a tiny trickle of juice dripping down your chin as you sucked the cherry in, and Steve looked like he might pass out. His too-cool demeanor blown out and boiling over, mouth parted in awe as he tracked the movement of your tongue running along your bottom lip, gathering up the juice and whipped cream.

“I gotta get this table bussed, hon,” a voice shattered the tension between you like a glass and both of you locking onto the waitress, caught.

“Oh–oh right. Course. S–sorry. We’re done. Right? We’re all done. Here–uh–lemme just grab–” Words were spilling out of Steve’s mouth like an open tap, clumsy and fumbling as he dug a wad of bills from his pocket, “Can keep the change. Great food! Great food. Thanks a bunch.”

“Mmhm,” she mumbled with an eye roll, as both of you clambered out of the booth.

Steve hit the door first, car keys clanking against his fingers as his feet hit the sidewalk, body like a furnace not from the summer heatwave, not the last rays of sun stretching up the side of the building, but from you.

You and the way that cherry looked between your teeth, the sharp angles of your cheeks when you sucked in and they hollowed out, the glitter in your eyes as you held his gaze and dared him to keep watching.

“Steve! Wait up–”

Reaching out your hand, your fingers brushed against his, straining for purchase until you finally grabbed hold and tugged, stopping him just as he reached the BMW. He turned around, mouth working around a smile when he finally looked down at you, expression unsure, struggling against shame and want and adoration.

“I’m sorry if I–if I made you uncomfortable or–or–” your words wouldn’t come out, caught in your throat, the feeling at the pit of your stomach teetering between embarrassed and wanting more. “Stupid,” you muttered under your breath, gaze dropping to your feet, but then Steve chuckled and you glanced back up.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at you, cheeks flushed and pink, no longer King Steve, but someone softer. Someone who wanted to try and put words to feelings.

“Honestly?” he said, brows quirking up, “So hot. Like…I don’t think you realize what you were doing to me in there, Bug.” Lifting a hand to your cheek, he ghosted his fingers down the line of your jaw, holding your chin between his thumb and pointer. “Wrecked me,” he admitted, voice lower, warmer, “Is that what you wanted?”

Heat pooled between your legs at his words, his touch, the way he held you in his hand, firm, but careful. Swallowing your nerves, you took a step into him and held his gaze, “What if I said yes?”

“Gonna kill me,” he whispered, pressing his other hand to your hip and sliding two fingers into the belt loop on your jeans to tug you into him.

You could feel the sun radiating from him, warm through the thin, white fabric of his shirt, and you wondered for split second what it would feel like to put your hands on him. Bare skin, golden, sun kissed, fingers chasing freckles across his belly, bumping up his ribs and over his chest.

“Can’t,” you whispered back, “Cos I then I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

Taking a deep breath you pushed up onto your toes and wrapped an arm behind his head, pulled him down into you and pressed your lips to his, swallowing the gasp he’d sucked in.

It tasted like strawberry milkshake, tart cherry and whipped cream. Like every June, July, and August you spent together. All the restraint and tension melting away like ice cream in the sun only to be replaced by this heat, making room for something more.

He ran his tongue against the seam of your lips and you opened to him, let him into your mouth and licked at the way he searched you. He loosed a pained sound that you greedily swallowed, sucking his bottom lip as you pulled away and when you finally looked back up at him, he was completely wrecked. Hair sticking out at the nape of his neck where you’d tangled your fingers, running your nails against the skin there, leaving a trail of goosebumps in your wake.

“Take me home?” you asked quietly, a secret code only he could decipher.

Want you. Need you. More. More. More.

And Steve didn’t make you ask twice, stealing one more kiss before driving you back to his where you’d get lost between the sheets. Tracing each other like a pattern, a maze of sleepless bliss, bodies fitted together like two sides of a locket as you moved in the dark and pulled soft sounds from your lips – asking each other again and again for another

and another

and another.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[thehatboxwitch]

Since you've done a couple of NSFW alphabet, would you honour us with one for our boi Phainon 🩵🌞

it would be my pleasure to deliver 🙇 phainon nsfw alphabet. gender neutral, TW // nsfw.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

as physically strong as he is, phainon doesn't fall asleep that quickly after. he'll help you clean up and go to bed, but after that, he lies in silence, just enjoying your body heat and taking in your sleeping face. there have been moments where he never wants the night (day?) to end.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

no one yearns as desperately as phainon, let us be real. phainon is always in the mood for you, even when you think he isn't. as long as he gets the slightest inkling that you might want him he'll drop everything to please you.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

phainon is. well. huge. he's very tall and broad besides, so expect him to enjoy smothering you with himself as much as possible. his muscles aren’t just for show, and sometimes he accidentally manhandles you around though he doesn’t intend to.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

when you’re away from him for any period of time, phainon sprays your perfume all over the bed and rolls around in it. he won’t be able to sleep otherwise.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

phainon’s fairly loud in the grand scheme of things. he likes letting you know how good he’s feeling, and he doesn’t get embarrassed that easily. he lavishes you in praise, telling you how good you are between an abundance of gasps and whines.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

he doesn’t tease very much, but it does happen sometimes when he thinks it’s especially cute when you squirm and beg for him.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he’s not against toys at all, and if you prefer them he won’t have any problems using that on you. you’ll have to pleasure him yourself after that, though. he thinks it’s only fair.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

this is a question you don't want answered. phainon can go for much longer than humanly possible - don't ask unless you're ready to find out.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

again deferring to you, if there's anything you'd like to try, phainon's absolutely down. he's open to "harder" kinks like knifeplay, bloodplay, all within reasonable safety, of course. tying you up is a secret favourite of his.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he prefers not to rush if he can help it. phainon will make time for a proper session if he has to and pull all his chrysos heir strings. nothing makes him feel more icky than the thought of not lavishing you in the attention and care that you deserve.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

phainon thinks he's being slow and sensual, but really you'll feel that he's quite rough out of sheer size alone. eventually he loses his cool as well and ends up pounding into you anyway - so fast and rough would be more accurate to describe him.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

when it comes to giving, phainon much prefers using his hands than his mouth. he likes it when you're able to hear him, and so in that vein, he prefers receiving oral when you're up for it. (it does get pretty tiring, however, so it's not a very common occurrence.)

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he'd never degrade you. it's just not something that's in phainon's capability, despite everything else he can do. it'd hurt him more than it'd hurt you.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

basically anything, but if he had to choose, maybe just seeing you do domestic things around the place. cooking, cleaning, adjusting your hair in the mirror. phainon’s heart explodes from affection and it often quickly turns into something more.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

phainon feels like a very against-the-wall kind of guy, exactly as it sounds. he enjoys pinning you against something, fucking you roughly into the surface, kneading your soft body in his hands. the walls of your house, in an alley somewhere, as long he can keep you trapped in his arms.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

praise, both giving and receiving, is a big turn on for him. all you need is to tell him he’s a good boy and you can expect to be too sore to walk the next day.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

phainon typically doesn’t spend too much away from you, so in the short periods of time he doesn’t have access to you, he avoids touching himself. he likes the idea of saving himself up for you and you only.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

really, phainon’s attempts at romance in the bedroom are clumsy at best. he’s too eager, overbearing, with his affection, too excited to get his hands on you that he smothers you in what should be slow, romantic kisses. he’s more of an enthusiastic dog than anything.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i doubt he grooms himself very often, so there’s a medium-sized tangle of white hair down there with a bit of a bluish sheen compared to the hair on his head.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he doesn’t intend to be, but sometimes phainon will make you laugh in the bedroom, for example when he knocks over a lamp rushing to get to you.

f = favourite position (this goes without saying)

prone bone (if that’s what it’s called). anything where you’re pinned flat down and his entire body weight is bearing down on you, helpless to the full force of his love for you.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s probably… vaguely experienced? he’s been pleasured once or twice before, and vice versa, but he hasn’t really put his dick into someone else before. phainon’s nervous at first, but pretty confident regardless for the little bit of experience he has.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he has fantasised about fucking you in front of the other chrysos heirs more than once. this is one of phainon's secrets he'll take to the grave.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he likes finishing inside you and watching the cum drip out of you, just so he can use his dick to push it back into you. ;)

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves every single inch of you, but if he absolutely had to choose, perhaps the shoulders and neck area. phainon likes burying his face there when he cums, biting and leaving marks all over, or if you prefer it, he restrains you gently around the neck and watch as your eyes roll in a mix of pleasure and exhilaration.

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

cuddly, and very clingy. phainon cleans you up and dresses you before you can even finish catching your breath, and then he's snuggled up with you under the covers, tracing his hands over the marks he'd left and rubbing his face into your hair.

a hatbox summer event | discord server if you enjoy my work, reblogs help the most! ⭐️

[syrecjh]

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆🪐⋆Say That When You’re Sober

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader

(A request)

You and Katsuki Bakugo were never the kind of exes who left wreckage in their wake. No screaming matches. No torn photographs. Just the slow unraveling of something once soft and bright, now threadbare with time and circumstance. You parted ways like grown-ups—if not lovers, still comrades. Still… something. You kept the tenderness folded quietly between your ribcages, like a secret both of you respected.

It wasn’t a dramatic goodbye, just a quiet one. Work got in the way. The pressure did, too. He had his hero duties, you had your path, and somewhere between the missed dinners and unspoken wants, you both realized the timing was wrong—even if the feelings weren’t.

But the strangest part?

You never stopped being kind to each other.

Even after the breakup, you’d still like each other’s posts—subtly, sparingly, but always. He’d comment a dry “Tch. Lame.” on a photo of your beach trip and then send you a fire emoji right after. You’d heart his training clips and smile at the way he still wore the hoodie you once forgot at his place. At gatherings, the BakuSquad teased in cautious whispers but never pushed. They knew this was delicate—what stood between you and him. Not glass, but memory. Not broken, just… unfinished.

So when you saw him at the bar that night, alone and slouched over a half-empty glass, you hesitated.

The place was humming with bass and laughter, but he looked like he was elsewhere entirely—lost somewhere between the rim of his drink and whatever thoughts were spinning in his head. His neck and cheeks were flushed a warm pink, telltale signs of how much he’d had. His gaze flicked lazily to yours when he saw you, eyes widening only slightly, as if unsure if you were real or the start of a dream.

“Bakugo?” you asked, cautious.

He blinked at you. “...Hey.”

You sat beside him, carefully. “You with someone?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Just me.”

You raised a brow. “You’re wasted.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You called the bartender your mom two minutes ago.”

“Tch.” He smirked. “Shut up.”

You sighed, already pulling out your phone. “Kiri?”

“Outta the country,” he mumbled.

So you drove him home.

You buckled him in while he muttered about your driving being too slow, too careful. You ignored the way your hands trembled a bit as they brushed his. And when you helped him up the steps to his place, still steadying him as he swayed, he leaned against the doorframe and stared at you like you were the only thing he could see clearly.

“I still love you,” he said suddenly, voice rough, low, and drunk-soft. “I want you back.”

You froze.

His pupils were hazy. His words, even slurred, felt too close to truth. Too dangerous.

“You’re drunk,” you managed.

“I know what I feel, dumbass.”

You gave him a sad smile then, something halfway between aching and armor. “Say that when you’re sober.”

He stared at you like he wanted to—like he might—but the weight of alcohol and unsaid things dragged him down. You left him at his door, heart thudding behind your ribs like it had somewhere to be.

The next morning, you tried not to think about it. You tried.

Until your phone buzzed.

Bakugo:

> You told me to say it when I’m sober.

> So I’m saying it now.

> Come meet me.

> Remember the cafe we used to go to?

> I’m here. I’ll wait.

You stared at the screen. The text wasn’t long. It wasn’t flowery. It was him. Steady. Straightforward. Sure.

And suddenly, your hands shook again.

There was a time you thought Bakugo could never say the right thing. That he’d never be soft enough, never reach first. But now, here he was—coffee shop open, heart in hand, telling you he’s ready.

Maybe he always was. Maybe you were, too.

So you grabbed your keys.

Because not all broken things are meant to stay shattered.

Some just need to be held together again—

sober.

and finally,

sure.

[cheftsunoda]

Hi how are you? So I have a kinda weird request because is for drivers that usually don’t a lot of love lol but since you wrote for mick i think i won’t be judge lol.

So mick x stroll!reader x esteban have been dating for a couple years but no one in the public knows, only their families and some close friends/drivers know. The three of them are ALWAYS together and fans think she’s either dating mick or este, or even that mick and esteban are dating each other and reader is the third wheel 😂 and she spends race days going from one garage to other to support her brother and her boyfriends (so i guess mick needs to be driving in f1 for this to work, any team works tbh)

So eventually mick and este get to share a podium and she is so proud that ends up hard launching their relationship lol.

Anyway that’s my little weird request, thanks for reading my rambling 🫶🏻

estie bestie? no. estie boyfie. — mick schumacher + esteban ocon

smau + blurbs

esteban ocon x stroll reader x mick schumacher

to the world, you were lance stroll’s supportive younger sister, maybe wag to esteban ocon— maybe mick schumacher. or maybe, as twitter liked to suggest, the tragic third wheel to their slow burn bromance. and you let them believe it. because the truth? you’d been in love with both of them — and they with you — for nearly three years. it started quietly. long nights in hotel rooms after races, comfort in shared silences, in the way mick kissed your knuckles before press conferences and esteban held your hand under the table during dinners. now it was your normal—switching garages like outfits, falling asleep tangled between two hearts you never expected to hold. no one knew — except a few friends, family, and the world’s worst secret keeper— sebastian vettel. to everyone else, you were just the girl with too many lanyards, too many photo ops, and too many unexplained blushes when either of them walked past. but behind the pr smiles and speculation threads, your love story was unfolding. and the world was getting closer to finding out.

fc : kornelia.ski

(a/n) : hi baby! im okay, life’s been rough. been beating me down a little bit but thank you for asking! hope you are well. i am so sorry this took so long— I’ve been behind but I hope you enjoy it! love youuuu

—

yn_stroll

liked by lance_stroll, estebanocon, mickschumacher and 1,115,707 others.

yn_stroll : my recent chaos 🎞️📷

tagged : lance_stroll, estebanocon and mickschumacher

—

view 185,305 other comments.

lance_stroll : why am i always collateral in your little aesthetic dumps…you always post the worst pictures 🙄🙄

liked by yn_stroll

↳ yn_stroll : not my fault you look ugly every time my camera comes out 😁

↳ lance_stroll : im taking away your paddock privileges. you are BANNED.

↳ yn_stroll : luckily i still have two ways in…3 if you count ollie

liked by olliebearman, mickschumacher and estebanocon

lando : so which one is your boyfriend or are they boyfriends???

liked by yn_stroll

↳ yn_stroll : nosey nosey man.

liked by lando

↳ lando : IM NOT NOSEY. mainly just want to know if you’re single 👀

liked by yn_stroll

↳ lance_stroll : out lando

↳ mickschumacher : she will not be going out with lando ‘man whore’ norris

↳ lando : i have one phase and get banned for life

↳ olliebearman : boooooo tomatoes tomatoes 🍅 🍅

liked by yn_stroll and estebanocon

↳ lando : OK OK. why is the child here

↳ yn_stroll : he is my bestie

liked by olliebearman

username00 : she sits between them on the plane. I AM IN TEARS. they are so together.

haasf1team : our estie and his besties 💅🏻

liked by yn_stroll, estebanocon and mickschumacher

↳ username0 : are we sure they are just besties??👀

username1 : lance being the only unbothered one while his sister and two of his colleagues carry out a covert love plot 😭💀

sebastianvettel : Miss all this chaos. Come visit soon Liebling!

liked by yn_stroll

↳ yn_stroll : miss you more! we are planning on making a trip within the next month!

liked by sebastianvettel

↳ username5 : we???? oh they r so dating.

—

You knew before even sitting down that this flight was going to be ridiculous. Because someone — probably Esteban — had insisted on booking three seats in a row, even in first class. Just the three of you, limbs too long and too tangled, stuffed into a luxury cocoon of champagne. You were wedged in the middle, naturally. Where you always ended up. You didn’t mind.

Mick was already curled up by the window, hoodie up, face tucked into the neck pillow you’d stolen from the lounge. He looked soft and impossibly tired — probably from whatever late night sim race he’d gotten dragged into the night before. Esteban, on the other hand, was still scrolling through the in flight movie options like it was a life or death decision.

“Just pick one,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder. “We’ll be in Miami before you decide.”

“I don’t want to waste it on something you two will sleep through,” he replied, voice low and teasing as he glanced at you. “You always do. Ten minutes in and it’s dead weight on both sides.”

You stuck your tongue out, and on cue, Mick reached over and gently flicked his forehead.

“I’m not sleeping. I’m resting my eyes,” he mumbled, eyes still closed but his hand finding yours under the shared blanket.

“Liar,” you smiled, threading your fingers through his. “You were snoring during the safety video.”

“I was breathing deeply.”

Esteban snorted. “You were whistling through your nose.”

You couldn’t help but laugh — that half silent kind of giggle that makes your chest ache with love. The cabin lights had dimmed, casting the three of you in a soft gold glow. You shifted in your seat, the curve of Mick’s body pressing warmly against your side while Esteban pulled the blanket higher up your lap, thumb drawing lazy circles on your knee beneath it.

It was a moment no one else would ever see. No cameras. No paddock rumors. Just quiet breathing and shared warmth.

“I love this,” you said softly, mostly to yourself.

Esteban heard it anyway. He turned toward you, his nose brushing your cheek. “What? The terrible rom-com you’re about to fall asleep during?”

You shook your head. “This. Us. Flying across the world for another chaotic race weekend. But having… this. You two.”

Mick shifted closer, his voice hoarse and gentle in your ear. “You always have us. You know that, right?”

You nodded, but your throat felt tight, like you could cry if you let yourself.

Esteban leaned in and kissed your temple, while Mick kissed the back of your hand. Neither of them needed you to explain. They just knew.

“We’ll stay like this forever,” Esteban whispered. “Just maybe one day we will stop hiding from the people on Twitter…”

You laughed again — tired, safe, soft. Wrapped in a blanket of limbs and love, tucked between the only two people in the world who made the chaos worth it.

And when the movie finally started and your eyes began to drift shut, you barely registered Esteban pulling your legs across his lap or Mick laying his head in your neck. You were right where you belonged.

—

The hotel suite was big, stupidly big, with windows that overlooked the city skyline. Neon lights danced across the walls as the sun dipped below the edge of the world, and somewhere in the distance, you could hear the low thrum of nightlife already waking up. But in here, it was quiet. Soft. Dimly lit and safe.

You’d barely kicked off your shoes before Esteban was tugging your carry on out of your hand and disappearing into the bathroom with a whispered, “Give me ten minutes.”

Mick had already flopped down onto the king sized bed, still in his hoodie from the flight, arms behind his head and eyes closed like he planned to nap through the weekend.

You stood awkwardly by the window, unsure what to do with yourself until he cracked one eye open and smiled.

“Stop hovering,” he said, voice thick with affection. “Come here.”

You padded over and let him pull you down beside him, your head landing on his chest, his fingers finding your hair immediately. He always ran his hands through it when you were tired — and you were, deep in your bones.

“I ordered room service,” he murmured. “Your pasta, Este’s weird sparkling water, my burger. Should be up soon.”

“You’re perfect,” you mumbled into his hoodie.

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, well. You’re easy to love.”

Before you could reply, the bathroom door cracked open and a wave of steam poured out. Esteban stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled up and a mischievous smile on his face.

“Bath’s ready,” he said, like he hadn’t just transformed a standard hotel tub into a spa sanctuary.

You sat up, blinking. “You ran me a bath?”

“With bubbles,” he said proudly. “And lavender oil. And I folded a towel into a swan.”

Mick raised a brow. “You folded a swan?”

“It’s a gesture,” Esteban said, waving dramatically. “She deserves softness.”

You laughed, unable to hide how your heart swelled in your chest. No matter how many races you traveled to, no matter how many late nights or jetlagged days — they never let you forget how loved you were.

You pressed a kiss to Mick’s cheek, then padded into the bathroom, where Esteban was waiting with the biggest, dorkiest grin and a glass of wine he definitely swiped from the minibar.

“Get in,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll wash your hair for you.”

You blinked up at him, overwhelmed. “You guys… you didn’t have to—”

He stopped you with a kiss to the top of your head.

“We wanted to.”

By the time you sunk into the warm water, bubbles lapping gently at your skin, Mick wandered in with a plate of breadsticks and settled onto the bathroom floor. Esteban knelt behind you, fingers gently massaging shampoo into your scalp while you leaned back into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. The three of you, in your own little world, quiet and full of love. No cameras. No questions. No hiding. Just the soft hum of city lights and the feeling of being completely, wholly safe.

—

f1gossipgirls

2,110,003 likes.

f1gossipgirls : The paddock’s favorite (unconfirmed) throuple has arrived in Miami! YN Stroll was spotted alongside big brother Lance on Thursday for media day duties, keeping things casual and cool as ever. Meanwhile, Esteban Ocon and Mick Schumacher made their entrance together, only fueling rumors that something a little more than friendly is going on behind the scenes. Throughout the weekend, YN was seen bouncing between the Haas and Mercedes garages, often in tow with both Esteban and Mick — sometimes hand in hand, sometimes with one arm slung over each shoulder, always leaving fans and photographers asking the same question—who is she actually dating… or is it both? No confirmations, no denials — just a lot of coordinated outfits, knowing glances, and suspiciously affectionate moments. Stay tuned, because this triangle isn’t getting less tangled anytime soon.

—

Your hair was already sticking to the back of your neck by the time you’d jogged from the Aston hospitality tent to the Mercedes garage for the third time that day. The paddock was sweltering, Miami sun sharp and unforgiving, but you didn’t care — you had a job to do. Well, not a real job.

Just the emotionally demanding and highly unrecognized role of loving two very competitive F1 drivers without spontaneously combusting from the attention it brought.

“Thought I’d lost you to Aston,” Mick teased the second you stepped through the Mercedes garage entrance.

He looked unfairly good in the heat — sleeves rolled up, headset pushed back, towel around his neck. He passed you a cold water bottle without you even asking, then leaned down to press a quick, barely there kiss to your cheek. It was too crowded for anything more. Too many eyes. Too many cameras.

“I’m doing my rounds,” you said dramatically, taking a long sip and smiling at him over the cap. “Your PR girl gave me a look like I was loitering.”

Mick chuckled. “That’s because you’re always stealing my snacks.”

You winked. “And your hoodies. And your heart.”

Before he could respond, your phone buzzed with a single word text from Esteban—

NOW.

You sighed, kissed Mick’s hand, and turned to head toward Haas.

The second you stepped into the Haas garage, someone was already barreling toward you.

“YN!!” Ollie Bearman’s voice cracked.

He looked sun kissed and over caffeinated, throwing his arms around you in a hug that nearly knocked your sunglasses off.

“I’ve seen you three times today and you’ve ditched me every time,” he pouted, still holding onto you like a clingy little brother. “Am I no longer your favorite Brit?”

You snorted. “You were never my favorite Brit. That’s Lewis. But you’re close.”

Ollie gasped like you’d just kicked him in the shins. “You’re cruel. Evil. Cold hearted.”

“You’re dramatic.”

He pulled you into the Haas motorhome and flopped dramatically onto the couch, dragging you down with him. “Do the boyfriends know you cheat on them with me every weekend?”

You glanced toward the other side of the hospitality area, where Esteban was deep in conversation with an engineer, but his eyes flicked to you like they always did — like a compass needle realigning with north.

He smiled.

You smiled back.

“They’re fine with it,” you whispered to Ollie, nudging his knee with yours. “You’re harmless.”

“I could be scandalous,” he said and shrugged.

“You eat cereal with orange juice.”

He groaned. “Why would you bring that up again?! I was out of milk!”

You laughed so hard your stomach hurt. Ollie leaned against you, limbs too long and too chaotic, while Esteban finally made his way over.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, one brow raised.

Ollie looked up. “Just convincing her to dump you for me.”

Esteban didn’t miss a beat. “You’ll have to fight Mick.”

“Threesome boxing match?” Ollie suggested.

You smacked his arm. “OUT.”

Esteban offered you a hand to pull you up, his fingers brushing softly against yours — the smallest secret in a space filled with noise and heat and protocol.

You leaned up and gave Ollie a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’ll always be my favorite backup plan.”

“I’m honored,” he called after you dramatically, hand to his chest.

You left with Esteban, fingers brushing briefly between you, both of you pretending your heart wasn’t beating just a little faster. It was exhausting, this dance — slipping between garages, between stories, between glances that held so much more than they could say. But you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when love waited for you in every corner of the paddock.

—

By the time you made it to back Aston, the sun was high, the air sticky with Miami heat. Your paddock pass was practically a golden ticket at this point, but walking into the Aston garage felt like walking into your actual home base. Lance spotted you immediately, slouched in a director’s chair with his race suit half zipped and a protein shake in hand.

“Look who finally remembered she has a brother,” he called out, grinning.

You rolled your eyes, plucking his shake from his hand and sipping it without asking. “You’ve seen me three times today.”

“Yeah, sprinting past me like I’m background noise.”

Fernando, sitting nearby with his arms crossed and an amused look on his face, tilted his head. “To be fair, she is in high demand.”

You smirked. “Thank you, Nando. At least someone appreciates me.”

Lance scoffed. “He’s just being nice so you’ll stop stealing his snacks.”

Fernando raised a brow. “Actually, I think she’s the only one allowed to take my snacks.”

You flopped into the seat next to Lance, stretching your legs out with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve walked more today than I did the entire off season.”

“You do realize you don’t have to do the grand tour every race weekend?” Lance asked.

“I do,” you said. “But it’s fun watching people spiral.”

Lance gave you a sideways look. “You mean watching Esteban and Mick follow you around like puppies.”

You gave him a smug smile. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Fernando chuckled under his breath. “It’s something.”

You tilted your head toward him. “You know, you could learn a thing or two from them.”

He raised a brow. “About what?”

“About romance. Softness. Love.”

Lance groaned. “Please stop.”

“Imagine it,” you said, teasing. “Fernando Alonso… cuddling.”

“I am excellent at cuddling,” Fernando said, deadpan. “But I keep that side reserved for national emergencies and post race exhaustion.”

You burst out laughing, and even Lance cracked a smile despite his disgusted older brother persona.

“Go back to Haas,” he muttered. “They’re the only ones who encourage your delusions.”

You leaned over and bumped his shoulder affectionately. “You love me.”

“I tolerate you.”

Fernando looked between the two of you with mock solemnity. “If she wasn’t your sister, I would be convinced she was dating half the grid.”

Lance froze. You choked on your laugh. Fernando just sipped his water and smirked like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I—uh—what?” Lance asked, voice cracking slightly.

“Joking,” Fernando said, though the twinkle in his eye betrayed him. “Mostly.”

You stood, dusting off your Aston shirt. “Okay, that’s my cue. I have to go pretend I’m not in love with two drivers now.”

Lance covered his ears dramatically. “Too much. I’m not listening. Leave.”

Fernando gave you a wink. “Good luck. And tell Mick to stop giving me the suspicious eyes.”

“I make no promises.”

You blew Lance a kiss, saluted Fernando like a soldier, and slipped back out into the heat, your phone already buzzing with a message from Mick

Back to Merc yet?

This life was exhausting. But god, it was fun.

—

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of the bedsheets. The chaos of the race was long behind you — the media, the heat, the cameras. Esteban had changed into a hoodie, and Mick was stretched out across the bed with damp and flushed cheeks, hair still messy from the post-race shower. You were curled between them, legs tangled and head resting on Esteban’s chest, fingers trailing slow shapes over the fabric.

Esteban’s voice was softer now, quieter than usual, like he was finally letting the adrenaline fade. “You know… this was a good weekend.”

You looked up at him. “Even with the pit stop disaster?”

He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Mick laughed from the other side, nudging your knee with his. “You still pulled a P7. That’s not nothing.”

“Could’ve been P5,” Esteban mumbled.

You leaned up and kissed his jaw, gentle and warm. “You were brilliant. I’m proud of you.”

“So proud,” Mick echoed, his hand finding yours across the sheets. “And so tired. I’m not moving until breakfast.”

You and Esteban exchanged a glance — a tiny flash of anticipation that made you sit up just a little straighter.

“Well,” you said carefully, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice. “You might want to get some extra sleep.”

“Why?” Esteban asked suspiciously.

You grinned. Mick propped himself up on his elbow, eyes gleaming. “Because tomorrow… we’re taking you to Universal.”

Esteban blinked. “Wait. What?”

“For your birthday,” you added, grinning wider. “We made a plan. Park passes. Early access. Express line. The whole thing.”

“You said you didn’t want to do anything,” Mick said, “so we decided to ignore that.”

“Because you always say that,” you teased, “and then you get pouty when we don’t do anything.”

Esteban stared at both of you, mouth slightly open. “You—actually—?”

“We’re waking you up at 7 a.m.,” Mick said, deadpan. “And I’m making you wear a hat with Mickey ears.”

“That’s the wrong park,” Esteban muttered.

“Details,” Mick shrugged.

Esteban was quiet for a moment, like he didn’t quite know how to process it. Then, softly—“You guys did this for me?”

You leaned in and kissed him, forehead pressed to his. “Of course we did. You’ve been working so hard. You deserve a day off. A real one. With rollercoasters and butterbeer and cheesy photos.”

Esteban let out a shaky breath, pulling both of you into his arms like he didn’t want to let go. “You’re going to make me cry.”

Mick tucked in closer, pressing his face into Esteban’s shoulder. “We’ll allow one tear. Any more and we call you overdramatic and bully you.”

You both laughed, and for a long moment, the room was just full of warmth — tangled limbs, whispered promises, and the kind of love that felt like magic.

“Universal, huh?” Esteban whispered finally, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Yep,” you said. “And I already reserved us a table at the Three Broomsticks.”

Esteban smiled, his cheeks pink. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Mick kissed the side of his neck. “We’re ridiculous about you.”

—

yn_stroll has added two posts to her story!

seen by lance_stroll, lando, mickschumacher and 2,575,00 others.

—

You should have known the second Esteban sprinted toward the entrance of Jurassic Park — with a grin brighter than the Florida sun and zero hesitation — that you were in for chaos.

“He is gonna run over children,” Mick muttered beside you, already trying to keep pace as Esteban skipped toward the River Adventure ride entrance.

“It’s his birthday,” you said through a laugh, clutching your butterbeer in one hand and Esteban’s fallen sunglasses in the other. “Let him live.”

“He might live,” Mick said. “We might not.”

Esteban turned around, walking backwards, arms out like a showman. “YOU GUYS. DINOSAURS. I’VE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS.”

“You literally have a super license and you’re more excited about animatronic dinosaurs,” Mick deadpanned.

Esteban just blew him a kiss and kept walking. Within 20 minutes, the three of you were seated in the second row of the log boat. Esteban had insisted on sitting in front “for maximum splash potential,” Mick was muttering something to himself and you had a bad feeling in your stomach that only got worse as the ride climbed higher and higher.

“Why is it so dark in here?” Mick whispered. “Is that a real drop or—?”

Esteban turned around, eyes wide with manic glee. “GET READY!”

“Oh no,” you muttered.

SPLASH. It was not a gentle drop. Mick screamed like a Victorian child seeing a ghost. You screamed too — mostly from laughing. Esteban had both arms up, completely soaked and thrilled When the ride ended, your tank top was clinging to your skin, Mick looked like a drowned cat, and Esteban? Smug. Absolutely smug.

“That was AMAZING,” he shouted, shaking his wet hair like a golden retriever.

“I hate you,” Mick said, water dripping off his eyelashes.

“You love me,” Esteban said sweetly, draping a soaked arm around him.

You handed Mick a towel from your backpack because someone in this relationship is a planner, and he blinked at you.

“You’re a goddess,” he murmured, wrapping it around his shoulders like a robe.

You giggled, and Esteban tugged you into a hug, still damp, still beaming. “Thank you for this,” he whispered into your hair. “It’s the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You leaned back, kissed the tip of his nose. “It’s not over yet. We still have VelociCoaster.”

Mick audibly groaned. “I didn’t survive a dino ambush just to die on a rollercoaster.”

Esteban grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You might die. But you’ll do it screaming.”

Mick looked at you. “I change my mind. He’s ungrateful. Let’s return him to the wild.”

You smiled, wrapping an arm around each of them as you began to walk. “Too late. You’re both stuck with each other.”

And as Esteban dashed ahead again — soaking wet, smiling like a kid, shouting something about “DINOSAUR COOKIES!” — you and Mick just looked at each other and laughed.

He reached for your hand.

“We’re never topping this, are we?”

You shook your head. “Not a chance.”

—

You weren’t sure when exactly the regret set in. Maybe it was when the restraints locked in with a final clunk that sounded a little too final. Or maybe when Esteban turned to you, completely lit up, and whispered, “I think I’m going to pass out from happiness.”

Meanwhile, Mick looked like he was preparing for war.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered. “You know how many Gs this ride pulls? I looked it up. We’re about to get launched into space.”

You reached over and took his hand — mostly to calm him, partly to keep him from unbuckling himself and sprinting off the ride. “Too late now, astronaut.”

The ride operator gave the thumbs up. The VelociCoaster hissed.

Esteban’s eyes sparkled. “READY?!”

“No,” Mick and you said at the same time.

And then — launch.

Your screams were lost to the wind. The first launch hit 70 mph before your brain caught up. Esteban was laughing, hands up like a maniac, shouting something in French. Mick was next to you with both hands gripping the bar like it might save his soul.

“I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I—WHY IS IT UPSIDE DOWN—”

You were laughing, screaming, possibly crying — everything all at once. There was a brief moment of calm during the stall where everything slowed, weightless, beautiful. Then it dropped again.

“WHO BUILT THIS?!” Mick yelled. “I WANT TO TALK TO THE ENGINEER!”

Esteban, meanwhile, shouted— “I WANT TO KISS THE ENGINEER!”

The ride slowed, the restraints lifted, and the three of you sat there in stunned silence. Mick was pale, his hair wind-blown in every direction, blinking slowly like he’d just come back from battle. Esteban’s face was flushed, radiant, absolutely vibrating with joy. You sat between them, laughing so hard your chest hurt.

“That. Was. INSANE,” Esteban gasped, looking between the two of you. “I think I saw God.”

Mick turned to you with a blank stare. “I peed a little.”

Esteban nearly collapsed laughing. You doubled over with him, tears running down your cheeks.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Mick grumbled.

“I know you do,” Esteban beamed, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “And you just proved it.”

Mick smiled despite himself. You leaned your head against Esteban’s shoulder and reached over for Mick’s hand again, still breathless. And there, in the heart of a fake dinosaur jungle, high off adrenaline and barely holding it together, the three of you laughed until you couldn’t anymore. Just pure, ridiculous, chaotic love.

—

mickschumacher

liked by yn_stroll, estebanocon, olliebearman and 875,009 others.

mickschumacher : miami baybeeeeee

tagged : estebanocon and yn_stroll

—

view 72,552 other comments.

estebanocon : i rate this dump 11/10

liked by yn_stroll and mickschumacher

↳ mickschumacher : i rate you 11/10 for existing

liked by estebanocon

↳ yn_stroll : oh my god

lando : im just going to keep hitting on yn until someone cracks.

↳ lance_stroll : your skull will be cracking if you continue

olliebearman : this is a very boyfriend coded post

↳ mickschumacher : im too old to understand that. what?

↳ olliebearman : forget it

↳ olliebearman : to think you are only 5 years older than me is scary

liked by yn_stroll and estebanocon

—

gridtruthers

liked by lando, olliebearman and 5,001,009 likes.

gridtruthers: For you all I have created a list of examples of why I think Mick, Esteban and YN are dating. Example A): This picture of Mick and Esteban on a trip together that Esteban posted like it was the most casual thing in the world AND THEN tagged YN as photo credits. 

Example B): THE WAY ESTE AND YN LOOK AT EACH OTHER IN THIS PIC. IT IS PURE LOVE. I AM STILL NOT OVER IT. YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE. they would die for each other and I would die for them. 

Example C): MICK TOOK THIS PICTURE OF ESTE TAKING A PICTURE OF YN AND LOOK HOW PROUD ESTE LOOKS. OH MY FUCKING GOD. sick to my stomach. 

Example D): The entire photo shoot for Esteban’s merch. Like they are touching and hugging in every picture. I don’t have much more to say. Go look at the pictures.

Example E): Ummmmm not much I can say. They are quite literally holding each other in front of their brother in law WHO IS SMILING FOR ONCE. 

Example F): This tiktok that YN posted where she was doing an outfit of the day and Mick literally hugged her from behind and proceeded to pick her up and then kiss her cheek. SO CUTE. 

Example G): That one time when Mick and YN were in the Merc garage watching the race and the camera turned to them and CAUGHT THEM LIKE THIS. HAND HOLDING AND MICK LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT. obsessed. 

Example H): This picture of them playing padel which really gives off gay lover vibes and YN was the one who posted it to begin with. No other comment necessary. 

Example I): THEM LITERALLY HOLDING EACH OTHER LIKE THIS WALKING IN THE PADDOCK. AND THIS IS NOT THE ONLY TIME THIS HAS HAPPENED. IT HAS HAPPENED MANY TIMES. 

anyways— thank you for listening to my ranting. hope I convinced you 🫶🏻

—

view 272,110 other comments.

username00 : i didn’t even finish the thread before i started SCREAMING. this is a thesis. a dissertation. it deserves a pulitzer.

username0 : “sick to my stomach” is the most accurate summary of my emotional state

username1 : NO BECAUSE ESTEBAN LOOKS AT HER LIKE SHE PUT THE STARS IN THE SKY. and mick looks at both of them like they’re made of gold. i’m sobbing.

username5 : we went from “estie bestie” to “estie boyfriend” real fast. i can’t breathe.

olliebearman : this might be the greatest investigation the internet has ever produced

liked by gridtruther and lando

↳ gridtruther : oliver what do you know?

↳ olliebearman : nothing? yeah i know nothing.

↳ username00 : LIARRRRR

username7 : i saw them in person once and they were glowing. esteban was holding yn’s phone, mick had her bag, she looked like royalty. i haven’t recovered.

yn_stroll : I-. i cannot say much other than i am impressed and you should be a private investigator.

liked by olliebearman and gridtruthers

↳ gridtruthers : omg hello queen. love you and your boyfriends

liked by yn_stroll

—

The morning started with a sleepy 6:15 AM pickup, and Esteban immediately complained.

“We’re too beautiful to be awake at this hour,” he grumbled, dramatically flopping into the backseat beside you, hoodie drawn up like a cloaked villain.

“You’re too dramatic,” Mick muttered, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

You, sandwiched between them with a tote bag full of snacks and a neck pillow Mick would end up using again, just smiled. “You both agreed to this.”

“I agreed under the influence of post race endorphins and love,” Esteban mumbled. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh hush, you’ll be happy once we are there.” You hummed, checking the time on your phone again. 

Within 15 minutes, you three had arrived at the Miami airport. The three of you stuck out like sore thumbs, despite the hoodies and sunglasses. Esteban was sprawled on the couch in the lounge within five minutes, Mick was methodically organizing boarding passes and passports like a dad, and you were feeding them croissants from the snack counter.

“I feel like we’re being watched,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at a family subtly whispering in your direction.

“Because we are,” Mick replied calmly, not looking up from his phone. “And they probably think I’m on a boys’ trip with Esteban and brought my assistant.”

“I will throw a pain au chocolat at you,” you warned.

Esteban perked up, mouth full. “Throw it at me instead. I’ll catch it.”

You ended up seated in the middle seat, between Esteban—who had immediately curled up with a blanket and fallen asleep on your shoulder—and Mick, who was flipping through the inflight entertainment catalog with a thoughtful look.

“I’m gonna watch The Grand Budapest Hotel,” he announced.

“That’s cute,” you replied, trying not to move too much so you wouldn’t wake Esteban. “Do you want snacks?”

“Not when I have you,” Mick replied smoothly.

You choked on your own breath. Esteban, eyes still closed, mumbled, “Stop flirting over me. I’m dreaming of goats.”

“…Goats?” you whispered, trying not to laugh.

“He watched that farm documentary last night before bed,” Mick whispered back. “He’s in too deep.”

Esteban, still not fully awake, added, “Oh my GOD! Sebastian has goats.”

By the time you landed, all three of you were in better moods. Esteban was fully awake and bouncing with excitement, Mick had bought overpriced chocolate from duty-free for Sebastian’s kids, and you were trying to wrangle the two of them into not attracting attention at customs.

Mick wheeled the suitcase. Esteban carried your bag. You tried to keep everyone from getting distracted by cows on the drive out.

“Do you think they’ll let us pet one?” Esteban asked dreamily.

“Maybe, if you behave,” you replied, laughing.

The roads curved through quiet hills and small villages, the mountains in the distance still dusted with snow. You could already feel your body relaxing.

The air was crisp. Still. The kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a blanket — a far cry from the usual roar of paddock chaos and back to back flights. The lake glimmered below the mountain, and birdsong drifted through the trees like a lullaby. 

The gravel crunched under the wheels of the rental car as you turned down the winding, tree lined driveway, golden light filtering through the canopy. The forest gave way to a wide clearing, and there it was-Sebastian’s house. Stone walls, ivy climbing over the sides, smoke curling lazily from the chimney.

Esteban immediately rolled down the window and stuck his head out like a dog. “It’s exactly how I pictured it,” he whispered reverently.

Mick parked the car and let out a soft sigh. “I already feel healthier just being near this man’s trees.”

You stretched your arms as you stepped out, the mountain air crisp and full of birdsong and pine. “Do you think he’ll make us do garden chores before we’re allowed to enter?”

“I brought gloves just in case,” Esteban replied, dead serious.

Before you could knock, the front door swung open — and there he was. Sebastian stood barefoot on the stone porch, hair longer than the last time you’d seen him, wearing a forest green flannel and holding a mug of tea.

“About time,” he said, smiling wide. “You brought my favorite chaos.”

“Nice to see you too,” Mick grinned, pulling him into a hug.

Seb looked at Esteban, who was already beaming. “Did you cry when you saw the cows?”

“I teared up, thank you very much,” Esteban replied with full sincerity, handing over a paper wrapped chocolate bar. “For the kids.”

Seb took it with a soft chuckle and turned to you. “And how’s our resident wrangler of F1 men?”

“Tired,” you said, dropping your head against his shoulder dramatically. “But better now.”

He hugged you tightly, swaying a little. “I’m so glad you are here.”

Shoes were left at the door. Backpacks dropped. Within minutes, all four of you were gathered in the warm kitchen, surrounded by drying herbs, mismatched mugs, and the smell of bread fresh from the oven. Mick had taken it upon himself to slice it. Badly. There were crumbs everywhere. Esteban was already at the kitchen window, whispering to a chicken who had wandered too close to the house.

“She’s making eye contact with me,” he whispered. “I think she trusts me.”

“You say that about everyone,” you called from the table, stealing a corner of the bread.

Seb leaned over to you, conspiratorial. “I told the kids they have to wait until after dinner to ambush you.”

“Oh god,” you groaned with a smile. “Are they still obsessed with Esteban’s accent?”

“They think he’s from a Disney movie.”

Mick took a sip of tea and raised a brow. “And me?”

“You’re their soft Uncle Mick that makes good jam.”

Esteban turned dramatically from the window. “And YN?”

Seb grinned. “Their queen.”

Seb had set up your room in the guest loft — a massive window looking out over the hills, soft quilts folded at the foot of the bed, a little vase of wildflowers on the side table.

“Did he pick those himself?” you whispered to Mick.

“Bet he raised them from seed,” Mick whispered back.

Esteban walked in behind you and flopped down dramatically onto the bed. “I’m never leaving.”

You all collapsed beside him, tangled in a mess of limbs and laughter, the sunlight spilling across the hardwood floor. For a while, you just laid there. Quiet. Breathing. Together.

“I missed this,” you said softly.

“We needed this,” Mick agreed.

Esteban just hummed and pulled you both closer. Downstairs, you could hear Sebastian singing softly in German as he stirred something in a pot. The scent of onions and thyme filled the air. A dog barked in the distance. Someone was chopping wood outside. Peace. Real peace. And for the first time in weeks — maybe months — you didn’t feel like you had to be anywhere but here.

Sebastian lured us down to the dining room once dinner was finished. We sat. The table was long, wooden, slightly worn from years of use — exactly as it should be.

Candles flickered in mismatched holders. The scent of rosemary, roasted garlic, and something rich and buttery hung in the air. One of Sebastian’s kids had placed tiny hand-drawn name tags at each setting. Yours had flowers. Mick’s had a little helmet. Esteban’s had a stick figure in a cape.

Sebastian just grinned when Esteban held it up, beaming. “I’ve been knighted.”

“More like knighted in chaos,” you replied, nudging him with your elbow as you took your seat beside him.

Sebastian’s youngest was curled into Mick’s side, holding a toy dinosaur and whispering something about “secret garden paths,” while his eldest very seriously told you about the “composting experiments” they were doing with their dad.

You smiled through it all, eyes flicking occasionally to Esteban, who was already deeply engaged in a debate about whether ladybugs have feelings. Mick kept sneaking pieces of bread to the kids when Sebastian wasn’t looking. It was simple. But perfect.

The sun dipped lower, casting the room in amber. One of the kids fell asleep mid sentence on the couch. The other was curled into a blanket beside the fire, eyes fluttering shut.

The grown-ups had moved outside to the back patio, wine in hand, feet up, soft music playing in the background. The stars were just beginning to peek out over the trees.

Esteban was telling a story from his karting days, hands animated, voice lilting with nostalgia. Mick listened intently, leaning back into your side, thumb tracing lazy circles on your knee beneath the blanket you shared.

You laughed softly when Esteban mimicked someone’s voice, your head dropping to Mick’s shoulder. Sebastian just smiled at the scene.

“You three are good together,” he said quietly.

You looked up, caught off guard.

He took a sip of wine. “You bring each other peace. In a world like that? That’s rare.”

You felt the weight of those words settle into your chest — gentle, grounding. Mick squeezed your hand. Esteban reached across the table and lightly brushed your wrist with his fingers, a silent confirmation.

“Thank you for having us,” you whispered.

“Always,” Sebastian said. “Come home whenever you need to breathe again.”

—

sebastianvettel added a post to his story!

seen by lewishamilton, mickschumacher, yn_stroll and 3,010,007 others.

mickschumacher : seb did you mean to post this?

↳ sebastianvettel : Huh? What did I post?

↳ sebastianvettel : Fuck. No. I meant to favorite it. Taking it down.

↳ mickschumacher : i love you so much old man

—

sebastianvettel has deleted this story!

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : SEBASTIAN VETTEL ACCIDENTALLY HARD LAUNCHED MICK SCHUMACHER & YN STROLL??!?! he posted a picture on his IG story of what looked like mick holding yn tightly—definitely mid-kiss—and deleted it within minutes. we repeat-within. minutes. we are NOT okay. 😭😭

—

You’d arrived at the paddock like you always did — coffee in one hand, team pass around your neck, sunglasses hiding the storm of nerves bubbling beneath your calm exterior. Because no matter how normal you tried to be, everyone was whispering about Sebastian Vettel’s cursed Instagram story that had been posted, screenshotted, and dissected like gospel by the entire fandom. But you? You carried on. You moved between the Mercedes and Haas garages like you always did, checked in on Lance, gave Esteban a forehead kiss for luck, ruffled Ollie’s hair, and sat on Mick’s lap in the hospitality suite.

And then came the call.

A driver was ruled out at the last minute. Medical, something sudden, and before you even had time to blink, Toto was waving Mick over with urgency.

“We need you. Suit up.”

Mick’s eyes flashed wide — stunned, then laser focused. Esteban found you instantly as Mick ran off to get changed, grabbing your hand and tugging you aside.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked, chest tight. “I don’t know.”

He smiled gently, thumb brushing your knuckles. “He’s been waiting for this moment for years. You have to believe in him now.”

And you did. You really, really did.

It was like something out of a movie. Mick, the late substitute, drove like a man on fire — precise, relentless, graceful in every overtake. Esteban held his own, smooth and strategic, the two of them ending the race in P2 and P3, side by side. You watched from the Mercedes pit wall, fists clenched to your chest, tears slipping down your cheeks without permission. The minute the checkered flag dropped, you were already running.

The three drivers lifted their trophies. Champagne flew. And before anyone could stop him, Esteban leaned into Mick, laughing, gripping his shoulder—

“Do it,” he said, eyes glittering.

Mick didn’t hesitate.

He looked straight at you, in your team pass and sunglasses and messy ponytail, standing near the front of the barriers with your hands over your heart—and he jumped down from the podium.

You barely had time to process it before he was grabbing you by the waist, lifting you off the ground, and kissing you full on in front of half the grid and every camera in the world.

Gasps. Shouts. A thousand camera shutters. The roar of fans exploding.

When he pulled back, grinning, Esteban had jumped down too, wrapping his arms around the two of you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Three of you. No more secrets. No more whispering in hotel rooms or deleting posts.

Esteban kissed your cheek, then Mick’s. Mick rested his forehead against yours.

“I guess that’s our launch,” you whispered, breathless.

“You were always worth the headline,” Esteban murmured.

And Mick, beaming with his trophy still in one hand, just nodded.

“Let them talk.”

—

yn_stroll

liked by estebanocon, mickschumacher, lance_stroll and 7,700,000 others.

yn_stroll : secret is out...thanks to my men and sv5 who does not understand how to use an iPhone;)

-

user has disabled comments on this post.

-

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 3

Later on, the rest of that day went about as smoothly as it could go. During the recording, the boys did become a bit more touchy but Natasha simply chalked it up to nerves. She fought the urge to smirk everytime one of them tried to allude to something sexual. She was perfect at playing dumb. As if she couldn't smell their wanton arousal. She knew she triggered something and had perfect and total control. So much for their loyalty to Gwi-Ma.

She bet that if she asked them to, they would give up all alliance with the so-called king. Watching as the boys got through their last lines, Natasha had food brought in so they could eat something after singing for so long. Abby and Baby were the first to attack the food but after minor scolding, made sure to leave some for the other three. “You boys sounded great in there.” Natasha complimented as she fixed a plate for Mystery who practically became attached to her hip. “Thank you Ms. Natasha. We're one step closer to our goal in taking down the hunters.” Jinu replied after taking a few bites of his food.

“Jinu lean forward.” Natasha responded. As he did so, his eyes widened as Natasha took a napkin and wiped the corner of his mouth clean. “There we go. Oh? What's up Mystery?” Natasha asked, turning her attention back to the other idol. “Hey um miss manager? When do we get what Romance got this morning huh?” Abby asked, huffing a bit. “I think we all behaved ourselves today. Don't we deserve a little reward too? How come you touched him?” Baby added. “I don't have to explain myself to you and if you keep asking about it, you won't get it. Eat. You have a photoshoot later.” Natasha replied unbothered.

That evening as the boys wrapped up the last of their photos, Mystery watched as Natasha typed away on her phone with a serious expression. She was talking to someone about something important for them. He loved that about her. She was always working. She always looked so busy. Like she completely had her shit together. He adored that about her. However, he also wished she would take a break every now and then.

“Alright boys. Time to go! Max, I expect those photos by Friday!” Natasha spoke while ushering the band out the doors and into their van. “I call shotgun!” Abby shouted as he practically launched himself into the passenger seat. “You had it on the way over here Abs, let someone else get the seat.” “Ugh fine!” He huffed as he moved to the back and Jinu climbed in the front. The drive home was silent save for the silent music playing in the background.

After arriving home, while everyone scrambled to get in Natasha's bed, still, she asked to speak to Abby alone in the living room. “I know you didn't want to give up your seat but you still did because I asked. I like when you boys listen to me.” She smiled as she led him to the couch and sat him down. “It makes me happy knowing that you respect me that much.” She whispered before leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

Almost instantly, his arms were around her and bringing her down to his lap. “Do I get some lovin this time?” Natasha giggled slightly before nodding. “Yes you get one thing of your choice tonight.” The man wasted no time in choosing his reward. “I want your mouth on my cock. I need it Mistress… please~” He whined as he began to free his cock from the confines of his jeans. Looking down, Natasha smirked before pressing a quick kiss to his neck.

“You’re a big boy aren't you?” She then moved off his lap and settled on the floor in between his legs. “Nervous?” Abby chuckled. “Oh please. I've had bigger sweetheart.” Natasha sighed before leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of the large cock waiting to take sanctuary in her mouth. That was a lie. Natasha had her fair share of fun sure, but none of her past exploits were ever this well endowed. Taking the tip into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, her ears perked up at the heavy breaths Abby was starting to take.

Slowly but surely, she started to bob her head on the erection. Taking more and more of the cock until it almost filled her mouth completely. Save for a few inches at the base. “Oh f-fuck… you look so hot…” Now, at this point she would have smirked and made a comment about how desperate he sounded, but doing anything but trying to fit the rest of the cock down her throat was impossible. “Mm… oh yea… keep going…” Abby moaned as he watched Natasha suck his cock.

Although he was definitely enjoying himself, he was also physically fighting the urge to take the older demoness by her hair and fuck her throat. Not because he was worried about her, oh no. He knew she could handle it. It was his own safety he was worried for. Getting on her bad side was something that was not on his list for that evening. Suddenly, he began to moan louder and his grip on the couch tightened as his eyes watched Natasha quicken her movements.

Humming around his cock, creating vibrations that added to the pleasure. “Shit! Y-yes! Please! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Unable to resist anymore, Abby grabbed a fistful of Natasha's hair and began to fuck her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch causing her to deep throat him. “Fuck!! Mistress! Your throat feels so good! Your mouth! Mm! Mm! Fuck! So good!” The sounds of her wet mouth fueling his desire and urge to paint her throat white.

“Cumming! Oh shit! I'm cumming!! Yes! Yes! Mistress!! I'm cumming!” Looking up at the man, the moment Natasha's eyes met those of Abby's he immediately came down her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch once more. “Mistress!!! Mm! Fuck!!!” It didn't take long for the man to come down from his high after Natasha pulled away from his cock. “You alright? I-i didn't mean to get that crazy.”

Natasha only laughed and smiled before standing from her position and kissed his forehead. “I'm fine hun. Are you ok? I didn't think you could sound so…whiny.” She laughed as she watched the man groan before standing as well. “Put that away and get ready for bed. I'll join you shortly.” Natasha smiled before grabbing her phone and walking into the elevator. She then dialed a number, while the elevator descended.

“Natasha. I am pleased to hear from you. How are the boys settling in?” Gwi-Ma asked. “Fine. That's the only update you're getting from me, asshole. Don't contact me anymore.”

@prettygirlkiki

@rivainimermaid

Chapter 4

[brokenengene]

࿐second chances - l.hs

He calls her after work just to hear her fall apart for him. The next night, she’s in his bed, legs shaking around his head, soaking the sheets with every breathless thank you.

pairing: single dad! boss! heeseung x secretary! fem reader

genres: office romance, smut, angst, second chance, contemporary

This content is only for readers 18+

content warning: strong language, power dynamics, sensitive themes, sexual content, angst, brief mentions of alcohol, discussions of infertility, discussions of pregnancy, low self-worth talk/self-esteem issues, grief mention, detailed smut, 18+ themes

smut warning: kissing, making-out, oral sex(fem receiving), unprotected sex(please don't!) praise kink, verbal breeding kink, mutual masturbation (phone), mention of vibrator usage, interrupted intimacy, soft dom!Heeseung, creampie, crying during sex, emotional vulnerability

word count: 10.6k

soundtrack: daylight-taylor swift/ let me love you like a woman-lana del rey/ earned it- the weekend

College was a long, long four years. Sleepless nights and all-nighters, good professors and bad ones.

To be honest, it didn’t live up to your expectations. 

At all.

Your grades were top of your class but in the romance department, you failed with a zero.

Freshman year went by, and no boyfriend, sophomore year? still no boyfriend. Junior and senior year? Too busy with homework to even try.

But that wasn’t your main goal anyway. Studies were always number one.

You rarely went to any parties, and rarely had any hookups because honestly?

You had essays due at 11:59.

It went by quickly and before you knew it you were tossing your tassel and walking across the graduation stage. A smile plastered across your face and an ache in your heart. 

You did it. You truly did it. 

Now on to adulthood, your carefree years are left behind in the dust.

 You felt pressure the minute you walked off that stage. So, so much pressure.

From weddings and baby showers to getting bombarded with questions at every single. holiday dinner. 

“When are you getting married?  “When are you going to have kids? You aren’t getting any younger.” “I know we told you to focus on your studies but you should think about settling down.” 

When you were offered a position at the biggest marketing agency in the city you were swift to accept. Ready to transition from campus life to corporate life. 

The first few months were rough, but you pushed through. Before you knew it you were fitting right in.

Professionally sent emails, a schedule full of meetings, and coffee perfectly sweetened and delivered to your boss right on time. 

Soon you were caught up in the routine of your 9-5. 

Wake up. 

Commute.

Work.

Commute.

Sleep. 

The American dream you were sold. Yet you still felt so empty, like something was constantly missing.

Your hard work quickly paid off. Soon the company was promoting you to the role of assistant creative director. And with the pay raise came more responsibility—and more mental strain. 

Heeseung Lee, your new boss, didn’t seem thrilled. 

He seemed like he was always giving you a task to keep you as far away from him as possible. But being the hardworking woman you are, you complied.

You had an image to keep up anyway.

You didn’t know much about him. He mostly kept to himself, always buried in work from dawn until dusk. Never really gave you a second glance unless he needed an errand run. Or his coffee refilled.

You woke up to the same blare of your alarm. Starting the day off like all the others. Picking out another navy blue pantsuit and pairing it with some pumps and your work tote. 

You tie up your hair professionally, do some minimal makeup to compliment your features, and spray your favorite perfume. 

You’re out the door just in time. Driving the same sluggish commute to the office. The same songs still playing on the radio. 

As you wind through the crowded city streets the office building becomes visible in the distance.

The unchanging, rising floors and perfectly polished glass reflect the blue of the sky. The logos were perfectly stamped onto the top of the building and the doors. 

You step into the empty elevator and ride it up to the marketing floor. The large windows overlook the bustling city below, letting the sun's rays into the concrete structure. 

Your heels click against the floor, echoing in the empty hall as you make your way toward your desk—which just happens to be room next to Heeseung’s.

You set down your keys and bag before pulling out your laptop to get to work. 

You’re lost in thought and focused on getting a head start on the day. Make a list of clients to contact, things to print, and a schedule of meetings for your boss.

You hardly even notice the sound of the elevator opening with a quiet, ding!

You glance at the clock, no one besides you ever comes to the office this early. You watch through the glass prying your gaze overtop the desktop curiously to see who it could be.

Your boss steps out of the elevator, tie loose and crooked, shirt wrinkled, hair down, You’ve never seen him show up this…messy?

Immediately your interest is piqued. Your eyes narrow with confusion as you watch him stumble into the office, coffee in one hand and laptop tucked under the other arm. You glance down and notice a small boy clinging to his leg. 

He drags himself across the office floor and the boy latches onto his pant leg. You smile softly as you watch through the glass. Wondering who’s kid your stoic boss got stuck parenting this morning. 

 “Daddy I want pancakes!” The little boy yells. 

“Shhhhh inside voice Cal-“ Heeseung says to the boy as he covers his mouth in an attempt to muffle his echoed pleas for pancakes. 

Dad? Heeseung? A Father? You had no idea. You’ve never seen him wear a ring, he never seemed like the family type either.

No pictures of a family framed on his desk like your other coworkers.  You ponder, all of a sudden invested in knowing way more about his personal life than you should. 

Your curiosity gets the best of you as you decide to confidently step out of the office, pretending not to notice him. 

Heeseung's eyes shoot wide as he hears the sound of your heels on the tile floor.

 “Morning.” He says, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from the compromising position you caught him in. He’s visibly flustered.

Again that's a first.

You don’t know what comes over you. Before you know it you're simply leaning in to help. 

“Morning! Didn’t know you were bringing a guest today.” You say with a soft smile to the boy, waving to him as you step closer. 

You gently glance at Heeseung, his expression overwhelmed and stressed. He can’t even fight you as you take the coffee and laptop from his hands.

His shoulders physically drop with the release of the tension. 

Your fingertips brush against the warmth of his as you take the now cold coffee cup from his hand, leaning in and getting a whiff of his cologne as you take the laptop.

You feel his warmth as you do, his scent is woody and inviting. Again you’ve never been this close.

And it's making your heart race.

“Up we go-“ Heeseung says, picking up the still visibly angry boy in his arms as he follows you into his office. You set down his things on the mahogany desk and he closes the door behind you. 

Heeseung lets the boy down, and he instantly starts bouncing off the walls and running circles around his desk. He Jumps up and down on the small leather couch. Heeseung sighs as he looks over at you.

Helpless.

“The nanny I hired walked out on me at the last minute. I just didn’t know what else to do.” Heeseung mumbles under his breath. 

He rubs the back of his neck, You’ve never seen him so unguarded before.

“Callum down! No jumping!” Heeseung haggles as he pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve some of the headache. 

Callum, that must be his son, he looks maybe around four years old. It’s clear he’s full of lots of energy.

He also appears to be protesting his no-pancake breakfast.

Heeseung lets out another sigh, visibly stressed beyond anything you've ever seen. His shoulders are tense, so tense as his son only makes more and more noise.

It makes your heart ache, without even thinking you step in.

“Callum, do you want to color?” You say kindly, you don’t even know what’s taken over you, it just hurts to see your boss looking like a stressed-out mess.

And to be fair, you are his assistant. It’s your job to lend a hand.

You gather some copy paper from his desk before opening the drawers. You shuffle through the sea of sticky notes and paper clips before finding a few colored highlighters scattered around.

“I love to color!” Callum says as he jumps off the couch and onto the floor. 

With the office supplies in hand, you lie on the rug, kicking your heels off in the process. You don’t even notice Heeseung staring at you in awe as Callum takes the green highlighter from your hand and starts to scribble on the page. 

And for the first time since Heeseung walked through the door, it’s quiet. 

“Can you add a dinosaur? Pretty please!!!” Callum says cheerfully as the two of you continue to scribble your masterpiece onto the paper. 

“I can try…” you say with a weak giggle as you use the best of your ability to draw the shape of a dinosaur from memory. Letting your fingertips lightly brush the pens across the white pages.

Heeseung just leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest with a stupid grin on his face. You look good, a little too good.

Shit...

He’s snapped out of his trance when his phone buzzes in his back pocket. He immediately steps out leaving just you and Callum alone for a moment. 

You watch through the glass. There he goes again, stressed and frustrated. His shoulders tight on the call, his hand roughly raking through his already messy hair. 

After a few moments, he aggressively ends the call and steps back in, shoving his phone in the back pocket of his dress pants. 

“Sorry I’ve got to jump on a quick meeting, I didn’t notice the time got changed,” Heeseung says frantically as he grabs his laptop, his eyes wide as he looks between you and Callum. Like he just doesn’t know exactly what to do.

“You go, I can handle this,” you say, chest fluttering as you see his expression melt. You’ve never seen him so soft. 

“I owe you one, you’re a lifesaver,” Heeseung says breathlessly as he turns out the door, he looks back once, heart melting at the sight.

He looks back once more before rounding the corner to the conference hall. 

You and Callum are left alone in the office, you keep him entertained. Thankful that you came in early to get a head start on the day.

It’s easy to give him your full attention knowing you have an empty to-do list.

You get comfortable, taking off your navy blue blazer and tossing it onto the back of his office chair.

You slide your heels under the desk, watching Callum fill up sheet after sheet of paper with colorful, creative pieces of art.

“I like you more than the other lady,” Callum mumbles as he lies on the ground, brows furrowed as he focuses on coloring in the rough outlined shapes. 

“You do?” You question him with a sweet voice. You lean down next to him, taking one of the highlighters in your hand as you mindlessly start to draw on another sheet of paper next to him.

“Are you going to be my new mommy? I miss having a mom.” The boy mutters, his expression hopeful. 

Your heart drops. Is Heeseung taking care of him all by himself? You can only imagine how much stress he’s under juggling work life and home life too. 

You chuckle weakly as you continue to watch him scribble on the pages.

“That’s not really how it works Callum.” You inform kindly.

After about half an hour of coloring and dinosaur talk, Heeseung comes around the corner. You catch a glimpse of him through the glass and you swear your heart skips another beat.

“Daddy!” Callum says as he jumps up and runs into his Dad's legs as he stands in the doorway.

“Were you good for her Cal?” Heeseung asks, glancing at you briefly, his expression softening as he steps into the office and sets his laptop down on the desk.

You start to clean up the mess. Highlighters, pens, and paper scattered all over the floor, your hair a mess, blazer tossed somewhere to the side. You smile softly as you listen to the interaction. 

You catch another whiff of his cologne, woody, warm, and masculine. There it goes again, your heart skipping a beat.

“He’s a good kid.” You say with a smile on your face as you unintentionally lock eyes with Heeseung. He can’t help but smile back at you. 

You’re snapped out of your gaze when Callum tugs at the edge of your shirt. 

“Are you leaving? Please don’t leave! Daddy, can she come home with us?” Callum cries out. 

Heeseung lets out another weak laugh. Face flushing with embarrassment.

“Cal, she's got her own home to go to.” Heeseung watches, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms. 

“Daddy I like her!” Callum says. Heeseung’s expression softens at his words.

His eyes linger on your expression as he pulls a granola bar out of one of the drawers of his desk. He softly breaks it into small pieces before handing it to Callum. 

“Chocolate Chip! Your favorite…” Heeseung mutters as he watches Callum let go of your shirt, running to take the Granola bar out of his hand. It's quiet while he munches away at his morning snack.

With free hands, Heeseung steps away from his desk moving even closer to you. Your heart rate picks up. Beating fast as you notice just how attractive he looks in the low light.

He’s young, he can’t be much older than you are. As you study his face you notice his expression changing, flickering with surprise, gratitude even.

“You’re really good with him. He’s never like this with anyone else.” Heeseung says to you his voice soft, just above a whisper. 

“I worked at a daycare in college, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” You say playfully, an unfamiliar warmth starts to pool in your stomach. You push it down in an attempt to keep the feelings strictly professional.

“You’re a natural, I didn’t know you had this side to you.” He says casually leaning up against the desk.

Your eyes linger on the way his body fills up his suit. The fabric straining against his muscles as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Likewise, didn’t know you had the cutest little boy around. He's real special..” You say as you casually slip back into your work pumps, smoothing out the wrinkles of your blouse.

You flush, noticing Heesueng’s eyes lingering on your fingertips, mentally tracing the curves of your body.

After a long moment, Heeseung shakes his head trying to snap himself out of, whatever he’s feeling.

“He deserves the world and I—I  wish I could give it to him,” Heeseung confesses his voice low, almost sounding defeated.

“You’re doing enough…trust me. I couldn’t imagine being in your shoes. Especially with that ball of energy.” You say truthfully, your gaze lingering on him for another second too long. Noticing the way his dark hair compliments his eyes. 

Heeseung nervously clears his throat, his cheeks flushing as the noise smacks you out of your trance with a nervous laugh.

Heeseung hesitates, there's a moment of comfortable silence before he speaks up. “Well I have another meeting at 12, and I’ve got a presentation I need to work on for Friday, I don’t know how I'm going to get it all done—”

“Don’t worry, I can watch him. I’ll order him some food and keep him entertained while you work.” You interrupt with a soft smile. Your fingertips mindlessly adjust your hair, making his heart flutter. 

“If that's okay with you?” You add nervously.

“Are you sure you really don’t have to…” Heeseung mutters, but you can tell from his body language he’s secretly relieved and deeply grateful for the offer.

“I want to, I’ve pretty much got a blank schedule today so I don’t mind.” You say as Callum finishes his granola and runs back towards the two of you. Leaving a messy pile of crumbs where he sat and ate his snack.

He gently clings to the side of your leg, gripping the fabric of your dress pants. 

Heeseung takes one look and he just can’t say no. 

“Daddy! Can we play some more!” Callum says as he tugs at the side of your pant leg. 

Heeseung smiles, this time it's different, authentic. 

“I’ll be back around 5.”

And with that, he leaves you two in the office to make it your very own personal playground.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The sun starts to set letting hues of orange and pink seep through the office windows.

5pm rolls around and  Heeseung couldn’t be more than happy to be done with his tedious work.

His breath catches as he turns the corner of the hall. Heart softening as he finds the state of the two of you. 

You’re still lying on the rug, barefoot, and with your hair loose as you type away at your laptop. Typical of you to get a head start on some work for tomorrow. 

Callum rests his head on your leg as he sleeps peacefully. His little chest rises and falls with soft breaths as he dozes off peacefully.

You don’t even notice Heeseung standing in the doorway again, as you continue to work.

Remnants of a door-dashed chicken nugget meal is left right next to you. A little bit of ketchup staining Callum’s dinosaur shirt. 

Callum is fed, asleep, and happy. 

That makes today a win. 

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you for this,” Heeseung speaks up as he steps into the room. His voice was soft enough to catch your attention but not to wake Callum. 

You flinch as you hear his voice, unaware that he was watching you for the last few minutes completely enthralled with what he was seeing.

“Is it 5:00 already?” You ask tearing your gaze away from your laptop to glance at Heeseung leaning against the doorframe. His tight blazer rode up just enough to reveal his strong build underneath his slim white shirt. 

“5:16 actually,” Heeseung says matter-of-factly. He drags himself into the room, setting down his laptop and keeling down to help clean up the mess. 

He starts to pick up the food trash, gathering up all the pens and markers. A few pages are scattered across the floor. He smiles as he flips through the drawings. 

Dinosaurs, castles, sharks—his heart stops when he sees messily drawn stick figures in front of a house. 

It’s a boy with black hair, a tall man with the same, and a woman that looks a lot like you. 

Callum drew this, little stick figures in front of his home, a family. 

Heeseung doesn’t say anything to you, he just continues to clean and pack up letting Callum rest on your leg peacefully. But his heart is thumping in his ears.

Imagining you with Callum, in his home. Imagining you in his bed—

He stops himself. You’re his assistant for God’s sake, not a free babysitter. You come here to get a check just like he does. Not to live out some fantasy that he knows is out of reach. 

Heeseung glances at the picture on his desk just one more time. He keeps telling himself it’s asking too much, and that having a family like that is impossible for him.

He tries, but his heart is tugging in another direction. 

There are hardly any words spoken between you as Heeseung packs up his things. The rest of the staff was already gone leaving the office dim and cold and empty.

You gently pick up Callum. He stirs slightly as you hold him up against your hip. You slip back into your shoes, and without even asking, Heeseung grabs the rest of your things. 

The elevator ride down is quiet. The only sound is the soft hum of the cables and Callum’s soft sleepy breaths against your shoulder.

Your heels click against the concrete as you carry Callum to the parking garage. Heeseung keeps glancing at you briefly, not being able to hold contact too long. Like he’s still trying to keep you at a distance, but he's failing. 

“The black Kia is mine…” Heeseung says softly as he leads you through the empty parking garage to the back row of parking spots.

Once you reach the car he opens the back door for you. Letting you easily slide Callum into his car seat. You don’t even notice the drool left on your white shirt as you buckle him into the car. 

Heeseung just stands watching from the side. You look incredible, and he notices the drool left on your corporate attire.

You just look so right, feel so right. But he knows it’s not right in the slightest.

Once Callum is bucked in you shut the door to the black SUV turning to take your blazer, laptop, and workbag from Heeseungs arms.

“You have no idea what you’ve done for me today,” Heeseung says softly, his tone truthfully like he means every word as he passes you your things.

“Anytime. Callum is worth it.” You say softly as you slip back into your navy blue blazer. 

“Here let me repay you for the Happy Meal I—“ 

“Don’t. Please. It’s my pleasure truly.”  You say as you playfully 'shh' him with your fingertips. His cheeks flushed a soft pink at the gesture.

You don’t even realize just how close you are. 

There’s a pause. It’s not awkward just heavy. Like you can feel the thoughts racing through your head and his.

You catch a breath as he stares down into your eyes, his gaze lingering across every one of your features. 

He hesitates, not wanting to cross a line, but God he wants to. He reaches out his hand, gently cupping the sides of your face, his thumbs brushing against the warmth of your cheeks.

You swear you can hear the beat of your heart echoing through the empty car garage. 

“You are so kind, so beautiful…” Heeseung mutters under his breath. His gaze locked on you like he’s in a trance. His fingertips gently brush against your soft skin. 

He leans in, his lips almost touching yours. His breath is hot against you. The woody and masculine smell of his fading cologne fills your senses. Reminding you how quickly the distance is shrinking between you.

The moment is charged, you both know you shouldn’t. But you're dying to have a taste of his perfectly shaped lips. 

“You really saved me today, I can’t say thank you enough” Heeseung whispers. Tension sizzles while his heart feels conflicted all at once.

But right now, off the clock, he’s feeling everything he’s been pushing down since the day you were promoted.

 Right now, you’re not just his assistant. You’re the generous, intelligent, attractive woman that he's been pushing away since day one.

His eyes find yours again, and he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

He’s scared but also excited. Maybe you could be something more.

“Then don’t say it.” You mutter softly… Your eyes widen as you realize what just slipped out of your mouth. 

Heeseung chuckles again. The sound makes your stomach flip as his dark eyes flick down to your perfectly shaped lips. 

His breath catches.

He hesitates.

But closes the distance. 

He leans in and captures your soft lips with his own. The kiss is soft, gentle, barely there like he’s trying to say goodbye and thank you all at once.

Your breath gets caught in your lungs as you feel the warmth of his lips against your own. You feel the tension slipping from your body as you kiss him back with a soft sigh.

You slowly move your hands letting them rest against his chest, gently pulling at the cool fabric of his button-up shirt. 

His lips brush against yours again, barely capturing your lips with his own, keeping his distance in case you want to pull away.

You don’t. 

You can’t help but lean into it. His lips are soft and feather-like. You gasp into his mouth, heart-thumping in your chest.

Your breath hitches, and Heeseung smirks. Noticing the effect he’s having on you. 

The kiss lingers, for two seconds, maybe three. After a short moment, he pulls away. His breath still mingling with your own.

His lips were pink and plump from the kiss. He lets his fingertips linger on your skin before reluctantly pulling them away. Leaving you with a shiver of cold without his warmth. 

“Damn,” Heeseung whispers breathlessly under his breath as he puts a few more inches of cold distance between you.

“Is that your way of saying thank you?” You tease with a soft smirk as you lean down to pick up the rest of your things, face burning as you realize—

You just kissed your boss.

“I’ve wanted to try that for longer than you think” Heeseung teases back as he nervously pulls his gaze away from you to dig in his pocket for his car keys.

The tension is heavy between you two, like you both want to say so much but the words just won't come out.

“I should get going it’s getting late—” You say nervously adjusting the wrinkled collar of your shirt in an attempt to ease some of the thick tension.

“You’re right, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Heeseung questions hopefully. His eyes lingered on you once again.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” You reply as you turn on your heel to walk towards your car, scared of what would happen if you stayed a moment longer.

“Drive safe…” Heeseung calls out behind you as he leans against the side of his car, watching as you walk across the garage before stepping into your car.

You pull the driver's side door shut with a slam. Letting out a loud heavy breath of relief as you try to process what just happened. 

Heeseung is a father. Exhausted, attractive, and kissing you like a fucking dream.

A problem in the making.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You can’t stop thinking about the day as you finally arrive home. You aggressively throw your things down on the kitchen counter and make your way straight for the shower. 

Hopefully, that will help clear your mind. 

You step into the shower washing your hair and skin. You can’t stop thinking about Heeseung’s gentle glances. About Callum's sweet laughter. All the things confessed and how natural everything felt in the chaos.

The weight of the day finally catches up to you as you change into a satin pair of pajamas and slide into bed.

You’re exhausted, physically and mentally. 

Just as you shut your eyes your phone vibrates and buzzes on the nightstand. You groan, lazily grabbing it, the illuminating screen hurting your eyes as you look at it in the darkness.

It’s Heeseung. 

At this hour? He can't be calling about presentations or pamphlets that need to be made. Your thumb hovers over the green circle. 

On the third ring, you pick up. 

“Hello?” You say into the phone with a professional tone.

“Hey sorry to bother you this late. You’re still up?” Heeseung asks.

You hear the rustling of sheets through the other side of the line and it only piques your interest. 

“Wouldn’t be talking to you if I wasn’t.” You say playfully in response. 

There’s a soft pause, the sound of your ceiling fan creaking overtop your bed the only thing that cuts through the breathing. 

“Hey about the kiss, I hope I want to cross a line or anything. I want to apologize—“ Heeseung breathes out.

“No trust me, you don’t have to apologize.” You say, your heart beating faster the longer the call goes on. 

Heeseung bites his lip, contemplating if he wants to say what he’s thinking. 

“I liked it, a lot actually and I would do it again,” Heeseung confesses, his voice shaky you can almost see how red he is behind the screen.

“Oh yeah?” You reply, your thighs already clenching together under the covers just at the sound of his voice. 

“I want to do more than just kiss you actually—God I shouldn’t be saying this. Maybe I should hang up,” Heeseung confesses, his voice heavy as your phone picks up the sound of more sheets rustling. 

 “Please don’t.” You plead. Your voice was shaky as it cuts through the silence. There’s another quiet pause before Heeseung softly interrupts.

“…what are you wearing?” He asks curiously with a whisper. His voice hits through the phone as you hold it to your ear.

“Satin..nothing underneath.” You say with a shaky breath. 

“Fuck. That’s hot.” Heeseung says into the phone as you hear more sounds of him from the other side. He lets a quiet breathily moan slip from his lips.

“I wish I was there. The things I would do to you, for you…” Heeseung mumbles his voice softly trailing off. 

“What things?” You ask, your voice a soft gasp catching in your throat. 

“I would kiss you again, letting my hands slide that satin off your pretty skin. Then I would kiss down your neck, letting you moan into my ear. I bet you’d sound so pretty.” Heeseung confesses. 

You imagine it, your thighs squeezing together at the thought, you’re heart beating faster as you hear his breaths getting heavier. 

“Fuck..” Heeseung gasps with a soft moan. Your eyes roll back in response as your free hand traces lower until it’s slipping into the satin fabric of your shorts.

“Then I’d kiss down your body. Down until I was kneeled between your legs, tasting you. Worshiping you, a real thank you compared to that kiss.” Heeseung gasps as you hear the bed creek underneath him on the other side of the phone. 

You moan at the thought, you don’t even realize it slipped past your lips right through the other side of the call. 

“Shit—“ you gasp your fingers slowing their movement between your legs. 

“You touching yourself?” Heeseung whispers. 

“Yeah..” you reply, your cheeks burning hot as you do. Not completely from embarrassment but maybe from how much you’re enjoying this.

“Me too…I’m so hard just thinking about you..” Heeseung says as he’s cut off with another soft groan. 

“Fuck—“ you curse as you grab some of the wetness leaking from your hole before dragging it up to your clit working small circles on yourself. 

“I’d be so good to you. Lying you back, fucking you in missionary so I can watch your pretty face.” Heeseung gasps, his breath heavy as his hand moves against himself.

“God, your voice..” you gasp as you rub yourself faster adding more pressure between your thighs. 

“Let me hear you. Fuck let me hear those pretty sounds..” Heeseung commands through the line, and the phone picks up the sound of his sharp breaths.

Your thighs shake as you push yourself further, getting lost in the image of his mouth on your pussy before sliding his cock into it. You close your eyes, letting his breaths turn you on more. 

“Daddy?” You hear softly from the other side of the phone.

 Everything stops. 

“What is it, Cal?” You hear Heeseung's muffled voice as the sheets are aggressively tossed on the other side of the phone. The room goes quiet as you hear him jump up from the bed

After a moment he comes back. 

“Shit—I’ve got to take care of him...I’m sorry..” Heeseung says frantically. 

“It’s ok I understand…have a goodnight.” You reply softly. 

“You too, goodnight,” Heeseung replies before hitting the red button on the screen leaving you completely in silence. 

You let out a sigh of pure disappointment as you turn to dig through your bedside table to find your vibrator.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The next day you show up to the office early. Partly because you always do and partly because you couldn’t hardly sleep at all.

Not after that call.

You remember the empty feeling of having the most unsatisfying orgasm ever. Your fingers and toys feel like nothing compared to his voice turning you on.

You shake your head trying to clear your head of the thoughts. Last night shouldn’t have happened, and you can’t let it interfere with your work. 

You pull your laptop out of your bag and immediately start to skim through your inbox, making the usual list of clients to call and meetings to attend. You’re quickly interrupted by a knock. 

You glance at the door as Heeseung steps in. His blazer unbuttoned along with the top buttons of his white shirt. His tie hangs loosely around his neck.

You immediately notice the bags around his eyes suggesting he didn’t get much sleep either.

“How’s Callum?” You ask honestly. 

“My nephew is home from college today so he’s watching him,” Heeseung says casually as he steps into the room closing the door shut behind him. 

“Can we talk about yesterday?” He asks as leans against the side of your desk. His blazer is tight as he crosses his arms.

“You think this is a good time to bring up the phone sex we had before your son walked in?” You tease casually as you continue to scribble notes onto your planner. 

“I didn’t mean to leave you hanging, trust me,” Heeseung murmurs his voice dropping an octave as he leans in close. 

“It’s okay I had my vibrator finish the job.” You tease matter-of-factly. 

“Now that’s cruel,” Heeseung says with a soft chuckle. The same laugh that was making you lose it yesterday. 

“We shouldn’t be talking about this here.” You reply, already feeling yourself getting worked up again.

The warmth between your thighs, the flush in your cheeks. 

“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.” Heeseung states as he glances deeply into your eyes. Like he’s pleading with you to not shut him out. 

You sit back in your office chair as he rounds the desk, you let him step closer, breath catching as he leans in. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will...” he whispers as he gently cups the side of your face again, his eyes flicking down to stare at your lips. 

You remember exactly how it felt in the parking garage, how warm and wet and inviting his kisses were. You’d be a fool to say no. 

Heeseung closes the distance his lips strongly clashing into yours. He lets out a deep groan of satisfaction at the contact. 

Your hands slide to the back of his neck, fingertips tangling in his dark hair as your lips move in synch. 

This time the kiss isn’t gentle and soft, it’s intense and full of need. 

You gasp for air as he pulls away only for your lips to capture his again. Your lipstick smudges down your chin as Heeseung sucks and nips at your swollen lips. 

You part your lips in invitation and Heeseung swiftly accepts. Gently pushing your lips open further with his tongue as he slips into your mouth. 

You whimper as you taste the remnants of his morning coffee on his tongue.

“God you’re so—“ Heeseung gasps as he pulls away an inch to catch his breath. Your lipstick smudged across his lips and chin. 

Heeseungs brows furrow as his phone buzzes in his back pocket. He pulls away, keeping one hand resting on your waist as he answers. 

The phone screen flashes ‘Riki’ with an option to pick up or decline.

“It’s my nephew— I have to take this...” Heesung grumbles as he keeps one hand resting on you, not wanting to completely pull out of the moment just yet.

“He’s sick? Fever?” You hear Heeseung say with a concerned tone of voice. His expression drops as he stays on the call. 

You watch with concern. After a few more moments of muffled talking from the other side, he hangs up. Letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Callum’s running a fever now…and I have a meeting at 4. I won’t be able to get to him and Riki just isn’t exactly—“

“Do you want me to pick him up?” You offer, secretly excited to see the little ball of energy again even if he is under the weather. 

Heeseung doesn’t even speak, he just kisses you again.

Another thank you, another promise. 

“I don’t want to push my luck— but if you wouldn’t mind.” Heeseung gasps against your lips. The tension was visibly relieved at your request.

“Text me the address, I’ve got you.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

**arrived**

The GPS beeps as you pull into the driveway of Heeseung's house. It’s a small modest home in a quiet neighborhood.

The outside was neglected. The grass was overgrown and the flowerbeds were messy.  

Heeseung pulls in right behind you. He swiftly puts the car in park, running right to your side. 

“How is he?” Heeseung asks frantically as he watches you lean into the backseat of your car to unbuckle Callum from his car seat. 

“He’s got a fever for sure, poor baby says his stomach has been hurting too.” You say with a sharp groan as you pull a sleepy Callum out of the backseat of your car. 

“There’s some medicine in the CVS bag up front I bought it just in case.” You say breathlessly as you balance a very sleepy Callum on your hip. 

Heeseung grabs the bag of medicine and locks up the cars behind you. He jogs awkwardly to catch up to you and unlock the door. 

Your heart softens as you step into the warmth of his home. The home is small but it looks lived in. 

Callum’s drawings on the fridge, days of unopened mail stacked up on the kitchen countertops, and Legos spilled across the carpet. 

You can’t explain the feeling any other way besides, right? 

Not perfect, just right. 

And maybe the imperfect is whats been filling that empty feeling in both of you. 

You kick your heels off at the door, letting your bare feet hit the carpet as you lie Callum down on the living room couch. 

He’s half awake, burning up, cheeks red. 

Heeseung is right behind you, opening up the medicine and pouring the syrup into a small cup. 

“Cal you need to take some medicine if you want to feel better,” Heeseung says softly as he kneels next to him. 

“No! I don’t like the red flavor it’s yucky.” Callum protests as he tries to knock the medicine out of Heeseungs hands. 

“Cal-“ he grunts with frustration as some of the medicine spills on his black suit. 

“Callum…” you say with a soft, soothing voice as you kneel next to him, your hands stroking through his hair. The same dark shade as his dad's. 

“If you want your tummy to stop hurting you have to take the medicine. You can do it, Callum..” you say softly as you rake your fingertips through his hair trying to calm his anxiety.

“I don’t wanna-“ Callum whines.

“What if I hold your hand? And we count to three?” You suggest lovingly.

Callum stirs but that seems to do the trick. You hold his little hand in yours as you start to count. 

“One”

“Two”

“Three”

With a sharp breath, Heeseung puts the cup to his lips, holding it there until he swallows it in a few shaky gulps. 

“There you go…see it wasn’t so bad.” You praise, gently patting his back softly. 

“You ready for bed Cal?” Heeseung whispers, his fingertips brushing against his forehead again to feel his fever.

“Is she leaving?” Callum whispers. 

You pause. Heart fluttering in your chest.

Are you leaving? 

“Can you tuck me in? That's what mommy used to do.” Callum asks, his little voice shaky as he sniffles.

You’re heart sinks. You don’t say anything.

You quickly glance at Heeseung for approval and he nods. 

You pick Callum up off the couch and Heeseung leads to down the dark hall to his room. There are toys all over the floor, mismatched furnishings, and the walls decorated with his finger paintings and prints of his favorite characters. 

You lie him down on the small bed tucked in the corner, pulling the blankets up and tucking him at the sides to keep him comfortable. 

Heeseung watches leaning against the edge of the doorframe. His heart felt warm and full at the sight.

He knows he can’t let you go tonight, not after this. 

He thought he could do this alone, thought he was the type of man that could juggle it all.

But your patience, your kindness, is something Heeseung hasn’t seen in a long time. 

“Can I have my dinosaur?” Callum asks his voice weak as he curls into the pillows and blankets with a cough. 

You pass him the dinosaur plush that was halfway tucked under the bed. Probably lost in the chaos of this morning. Callum grabs it and settles into the blankets.

“Thank you…” he says weakly.

Your breath catches, you know he’s not just talking about the plushie. 

“Sleep well Callum…” you whisper before gently pushing some of his dark hair away from his temple. You gently kiss him goodnight before turning to the door. 

Heeseung can’t look away. You look so perfect right now. And the way you handled everything it’s making his heart swell. 

The two of you file out of the door with unspoken words. Heeseung hits the lights and closes the door to Callum’s room. 

“Will you stay?” Heeseung asks, his eyes pleading like he’s begging you not to go. 

“Heeseung I—“ 

“Please I have wine.  I know it’s nothing compared to everything you’ve done for me, for us..” he trails off, his hands sliding between the two of your bodies to find yours. 

He laces your fingertips in his own, the motion taking the words out of your throat.

You know you should protest, but physically you can’t.

And you have to admit to yourself you want this just as much as him.

“Wine sounds perfect. And I’d kill to get out of this suit.” You reply with a playful breathy laugh. 

Heeseung lets you change into some of his clothes, a large oversized t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts. 

You step into the kitchen finding him dressed casually in gray sweatpants and a loose fitting shirt.

You bite your lip as you turn the corner. Your gaze lingers on his messy hair and casual attire. You’ve never seen him like this before.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy, single dad budget— you know how it goes,” Heeseung mutters as he opens the half-full bottle of red wine and pours it into two glass cups.

“I’m sure it tastes great.” You say as he motions for you to join him in the living room.

You sit next to him on the plush couch, fingers brushing against his as you take the wineglass from his hand. 

You bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of the liquid. Heeseung does the same. The air is thick, like there’s still so much left to say. 

“You’re incredible you know that? You got him to take his medicine without a fight. Sure you’re not casting spells on me?” Heeseung teases. 

You laugh, really laugh. It feels warm in your chest.

“God…Heeseung..” you say as you try to catch your breath. 

Heeseung chuckles too, his voice low and deep. He leans in, taking another sip of his wine as he turns to look at you. 

You can smell the fading scent of his cologne. You didn’t even realize how quickly the woody musk has become one of your favorite scents.

You lean in closer, letting your free hand rest on top of his.

“I always thought I would have this by now…a house, a family.” You say weakly. Your voice was shaky as you opened up to him in the quiet darkness of his living room. 

Heeseung doesn’t say anything. He just watches, just listens. 

“You know it was always homework in college then it was internships. Then it was hooking up with the wrong guy, then it was another who never wanted anything serious. It was just fail after fail.” You say with a bitter laugh as you hold back tears. 

“Then I just stopped looking, kept my head up, focused on work. And it paid off with the promotion it really did. But even with the raise I just felt so empty...” You say weakly as you blink back tears. 

There’s a quiet minute, neither of you says anything you just set the wine down and sit in comfortable silence. 

“Callum...wasn’t planned. At all.” Heeseung speaks up, his own voice shaky with emotion.

“I wasn’t in love with his mom. I was in college, was acting reckless, thought I was being careful that one time.” He says his voice dripping with self-depreciation. The tone makes your heart-ache. 

“Then she told me she was pregnant and that she wanted to keep him. So I stepped up. I got another job, took summer classes, and thought I could maybe redeem myself by showing up and doing the right thing.” Heeseung adds. 

“It wasn’t what I signed up for. But the minute Callum was born, the minute I became a father I just instantly had so much love for him. So I was determined to make it work with his mom.” Heeseung confesses. 

“She was bartending and taking classes, I was just starting with the company, and one night—she left for a shift late at night and didn’t come back. Found out she was killed in a car accident. That guilt, fuck it eats you alive.” Heeseung says, his voice shaking as he tries to hold it all together. 

You lean in, gently pulling him closer, just offering to let him rest or pull away. His arms reach around your waist, pulling you closer. 

“You’re doing enough, trust me.” You whisper into his ear as you pull him closer. 

His breath hitches, and he squeezes your waists tighter. “I didn’t expect to be a single dad at twenty-one god that just sounds—“

“Like a lot..yeah..” you finish. 

“But this with you..feels like the missing piece to a puzzle I didn’t even realize I was struggling to put together,” Heeseung confesses. 

Your heart stops at his confession. Your fingertips shake, this is exactly what you’ve been missing too.

Someone to lean on, a home to come home to. 

“I didn’t expect it to be you,” you whisper, still trembling from the confession. 

“Me either, but I’m tired of pushing this away,” Heeseung confesses. 

You kiss him, gasping into his mouth as you taste the sweet wine lingering on his lips. Your hands slide to the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. 

You don’t even realize tears are falling from your face until his hand gently cups your face, his thumb brushing the tears away. You kiss him harder, pouring everything into the kiss. 

Heeseung pulls away gasping for air. His lips still mingling against yours, his breath shaky as he tries to hold himself back from diving in for more.

“Will you come to bed with me? I want to take my time with you. No interruptions” He suggests with a weak breathless laugh. 

You’re so breathless all you can do is nod.  

Heeseung kicks the room to his door open with his foot. He lies you down on the bed in the dark room. His breath was heavy and labored already. 

“Fuck..” he curses as she kisses you again, this time it’s hungry, needy. He lets his lips drag down your throat. And you can’t help but arch into his touch. 

Your hips arch off the bed and Heeseung lets out a sharp exhale. He reluctantly pulls away from your skin, his fingertips hooking inside the waistband of your shorts.

In one swift motion, he pulls them down tossing them to the floor. 

You gasp as the cold air hits your bare pussy, already starting to get wet from just his kissing. He doesn’t even bother to pull off the rest of your clothes.

He locks eyes with you as he spreads your legs, leaning in to drag his lips across the inside of your thighs.

“You’re so wet already? Goddamn, just from some kissing?” Heeseung asks rhetorically.

He spreads your legs and dives in. 

He lets out a deep groan of approval as his mouth finds your heat, his large hands keep your legs spread apart as he licks another slow stripe from your dripping entrance to your clit. 

“Heeseung God—“ you moan weakly as he holds you open more. He pushes up the fabric of your shirt so his hands can feel the warm skin on your hips and waist. 

“So fucking sweet…” Heeseung mumbles as he pulls away to catch his breath, only to gently kiss your inner thighs before his tongue slides across your folds again.

Your breath gets caught in your chest, the feeling of pleasure already starting to build in your core. Your hands tangle in his dark hair pulling him in closer. 

Heeseung drags his tongue through your folds like he is trying to memorize every inch. You gasp, feeling yourself dripping as his tongue flicks your sensitive clit.

Heeseung catches on, you like that. He drags his tongue back towards your clit and gives it more attention. He lightly sucks on it as your back arches off the mattress.

“You’re so good with him. Holding his hand, tucking him in—Do you have any idea what that does to a man?” Heeseung murmurs as he pulls away from you to breathe. 

You whimper as he kisses the inside of your thighs, your pussy shamelessly clenching around nothing as his mouth makes its way back to your place of need.

“That's it, soak me, let me give you a proper thank you.”  Heeseung mumbles into your heat. His tongue moves hot and fast like he’s been waiting to do this.

You feel yourself letting go. Your body relaxes under his touch, deep moans escaping from your throat as he eats you out with precision.

“Fuck keep going…” You moan as you prop yourself up on your arms to get a look at him between your legs.

He's deep in it. His eyes halfway shut as his hands grip tighter onto the back of your thighs. He’s completely lost in pleasuring you.

Your thighs tremble as he picks up speed, lapping at your aching clit between long, thick stripes up your folds.

He doubles down his efforts, squeezing your thighs tight, keeping them open as he sucks more ridged moans from you.

You curse, letting his name fall shamelessly from your lips as he pushes you to the edge. That familiar warm knot starts to pool in your stomach. Thighs trembling by his ears.

His tongue slides away from your clit, dipping into your wet hole to taste more of what you have to offer. His fingertips dig into your skin as he fucks his tongue into you with a low groan of satisfaction.

You’re wet, dripping, shamelessly letting it coat Heeseung’s lips and drip down his chin as he fucks his tongue into it with a steady pace.

“Oh, fuck I'm gonna come, Heesung—” You gasp breathlessly as your grip tightens in his hair. Your moans only grew deeper and thighs shook on either side of his head.

“Come for me, baby…Fuck I need it—” Heeseung gasps into your wet pussy, the sounds of his lips sucking at you only pushes you further.

He finds your clit again, tongue pressing harder as he traces patterns across it. Following your moans as he pushes you over the edge.

You let go. The orgasm is better and stronger than anything you could achieve with your vibrator. You shamelessly coat his lips and the sheets beneath with your hot arousal.

Heeseung gasps into you as he laps up what he can, you coat his face, wave after wave. Your clit buzzing with pleasure as he anchors his tongue to it.

He slows his movements to small, lazy licks as you come down from your high. Your grip loosens as your body falls limp onto the mattress. 

The heat flushes your cheeks as you bask in the afterglow, your body still twitching from the intensity of your orgasm. Completely overstimulated.

“Damn I can’t remember the last time I came like that..” you reply breathlessly. Your chest vigorously rises and falls as you struggle to chase your breath. 

Heeseung licks you one last time, savoring your sweet wetness before he pulls himself away. Wiping your juices off his lips and chin before he hovers over you. His large hands caging you in on either side of your head. 

“You should go ahead and throw away that vibrator. Now that I’ve got you I’m not letting you go.” Heeseung says with a playful smirk.

You cup his face as he leans in, kissing you slowly, his tongue languid against yours as he lets you taste your sweet essence on his lips. 

“Fuck need to be inside you. Holy shit—“ Heeseung says breath catching in his chest as he kisses down your neck, his hands slipping into the waistband of his sweats before pulling them down.

He tosses them to the side letting his aching cock spring free. It’s thick, hard, and already leaking.

He doesn’t waste any more time. Heeseung guides you onto your back, his eyes locked on you as he spreads apart your legs just how he likes it, notching his sensitive tip into your wet entrance. 

He glances at you one last time for consent. You nod. 

He lets out a low groan as he pushes in. Your heat is tight, enveloping him and squeezing him perfectly. He takes his time sliding into you. Once he’s buried to the hilt he pauses.

“You were made for me—“ 

Heeseung starts to move, pulling out until just his swollen tip is notched inside only to grip your hips tighter as he slams back in. The wet sound of your body echoing off the walls.

“Mmm..you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this with you…” he confesses, his pace picking up slightly. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him for support. 

You only get wetter, his thick cock spreading you open deliciously with each thrust. 

You’re breathless as his thick cock slides against your walls, hitting spots inside you didn’t even know existed. 

“Fuck the way you’re squeezing me? Goddamn, you're making me want to make another baby…”

Heeseung mumbles as he grips the back of your knees, pushing your legs back towards the bed as he sinks even deeper into you. 

“Just imagine it, we could give Callum a sister, fuck imagine her with your hair and your eyes—“

You feel it again, that pit of despair in your stomach, that feeling of emptiness, that feeling of being broken.

“Heeseung…” you cut him off, your frustrated tone snapping him out of the mood. 

“Everything okay? Am I hurting you? He asks frantically, brows furrowing with confusion as he slows his thrusts. His breath is heavy as his hand moves from your leg to your face.

“Heeseung I can’t.” You say, your throat feeling like it’s being wrapped in barbed wire as you hold back tears.

“You can’t? Can’t what?” Heeseung asks as he stops his thrusts, his voice full of concern as his hands cup your face. Thumbs brushing across the softness of your cheeks.

“I can’t get pregnant, the chances are low.” You choke out, the words feeling like they’re being ripped from your heart.

You can’t help but start to sob after all these years dealing with this battle alone. 

Heeseung just holds you, his warm hands pulling you close. He doesn’t say anything right away, he just lets you cry. 

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t know…” he whispers intimately like anything louder would break you even more. 

“It's okay, I’ve never told anyone this before.” You choke out as the aching sob comes to a stop. 

He’s still holding you, still inside you, still wanting you. 

He didn’t even flinch, he just held you. 

“I always told myself I didn’t want it, want this. The kids the mess, the family. Thought I could fill that emptiness by being the career girl.—" You say chest heaving as you whimper another sob.

“I can’t give you the life you want.” You whisper painfully. 

“I already have it.” Heeseung whispers against you as he holds you closer. 

“You, Callum, all of it. We can make it work. We could be a family again…” his voice trails off weakly. 

His words take the air out of your lungs, you can’t even speak, so you kiss him. 

Slow, deep, messy. Just like how everything so far has felt with him. 

And you wouldn’t want it any other way. 

His hands slide down your body again, hands gently holding your hips. He slowly starts to rock his half-hard cock back into you. His lips dragging away from yours. 

“Tell me what you need, do you want to keep going?” Heeseung asks, his breath heavy, his cock already starting to grow hard. Your warmth makes him choke back a moan. 

“Don’t stop..” you gasp, your eyes still watering from before. Heeseung leans down, his soft lips kissing your tears away as he slowly buries himself inside you. 

Heeseung takes his time, dragging his cock through your clenching walls only to push back in. His swollen tip kissing your cervix deep.

He just holds you like you're the most precious thing in the world. 

He fucks you like your fragile, not in an attempt to break you, it’s like he’s treasuring you instead.

The sounds of skin on skin fills the room, the squelch between your bodies is erotic. 

You can’t help but reach out to him. His hands hold you close, making you finally feel complete. 

He leans down to kiss you again, his lips reluctantly pull away for him to whisper. 

“I don’t need any more kids, not some perfect plan, you’re everything. And I love you, every part of you.” Heeseung confesses against your lips. 

Your world feels like it stops in that moment. After everything you've confessed, he still wants you.

Ans after everything he's confessed to you, you feel the same way.

“I love you too.” You choke out, trying to hold back another sob. Heeseung lets a breathy laugh slip past his lips. Like he can’t exactly believe this is happening, that this is real. 

You clench around him with a gasp, grounding him in reality. 

This is real. 

His hand slips between your slick bodies, fingertips finding you clit, still coated wet. 

“Fuck…Heeseung…” you moan into his neck. Your nails dug into the porcelain skin of his biceps. Your hips rock into his, chasing your release again. 

“Need you to come again, on my cock this time.” Heeseung gasps, his own hips jerking as he feels himself slipping towards the edge. His hand still rubbing small, torturous circles on your clit.

“Heeseung I’m—fuck so close—“ you whisper weakly. Your heart beats rapidly as you feel the warmth in your stomach again. Legs shaking as he pushes you over the edge. 

You come again, hands gripping him tight as he buries himself deep inside you. You clench around him, moaning his name as your toes curl with pleasure. Dripping wetness like a wave, the sheets below getting soaked. 

“Fuck, that’s it, I’m gonna come—“ he whimpers as he thrusts one last time hard and deep. He exhales as thick ropes of cum shoot into you. Painting you as his. 

He gasps your name as his cock throbs and he pushes deeper, letting your pussy squeeze out every drop of his cum. 

You don’t move, the two of you just lie there, heavy breathing echoing off the walls as cum drips down your inner thighs. 

Heeseung kisses you, his thumbs tracing small patterns right above the skin of your hips. He kisses you slow and deep like he’s telling you everything he couldn’t find words to say out loud. 

He breaks away, his sweaty forehead resting on yours. His eyes were half-lidded with desire, his softening cock still inside your warmth. 

“I love you.” He whispers, truthfully. There’s nothing else behind it. 

“I love you too.” You gasp back, tears threatening to spill again. 

With those words, it feels like the weight of the past falls away.

The path ahead isn’t smooth, but it’s a path worth walking. 

This time it’s not about the picture-perfect plan or the picture-perfect image. 

It’s imperfect and for once that’s enough. 

A beautiful second chance. 

For you and him.

*8 months later*

The timer for the oven beeps over the sound of laughter. You’re back in his home dressed in warm pajamas, bare feet on the kitchen floor.

You watch Callum as he plays in the living room with his toys. An old Christmas movie playing on the TV as the warmth of the house envelops you. 

You open the oven, and the scent of freshly baked apple pie fills the air. The heat from the oven is nothing in comparison to how full your heart feels. You set the pie on the cooling rack, turning to place the oven mitts back in the drawer. 

“Oh my God that smells amazing,” Heeseung says as he rounds the corner with a huge smile on his face.

“Apple pie, your favorite— You can thank the freezer aisle at Walmart.” You say with a soft chuckle.

Heeseung steps closer to you, pulling you into his arms and spinning you around like a scene out of a cheesy rom-com. 

He looks you in the eyes, full of love. His breath hitches as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small folded piece of copy paper. 

“What’s this?” You ask softly. Take the paper in your hands and slowly unfold it piece by piece.

“It’s from Cal. I was just waiting for the right moment…” Heeseung whispers, his voice slightly trembling as he watches you.

Your heart stops. 

It’s a drawing with highlighters, a house scribbled into the background, a tall man with dark hair, a little boy with the same…

And a woman who looks a lot like you. 

Before you can even process it all Heeseung is in front of you, dropping to one knee. 

You can’t even breathe, he just smiles at you as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny red box.

“So I don’t have a speech planned, or roses or a photographer. But you, here, with Callum and I, it’s a second chance I never imagined I’d have. And I love you, and I want nothing more than to wake up beside you every day as my wife…”

“Will you marry me?”

His voice cracks, his hands tremble. 

You glance at the ring, and then back at him, proposing in the middle of the kitchen in his pajamas.

And it would be your greatest honor to become this man’s wife. 

“Yes. God yes.” You say breathlessly. Heeseung smiles with relief, he wastes no time taking the ring from the box and sliding it onto your finger.

It’s delicate and simple. No huge diamonds or lavish gold. But it’s more than enough.

He kisses you. His arms wrap around you like he never wants to let you go. You break away from his lips as you hear Callum barrel into the kitchen. 

“Did she say yes?!!” He asks as he hugs the both of you. 

You wipe the tears from your cheeks with a soft breathless laugh. 

“She did Cal-“ Heeseung says with a smile as he gives you another gentle peck on the lips. 

“Ewww are you guys going to kiss more now? That’s gross.” Callum groans. 

“You’ll understand one day Cal...” Heeseung mutters. 

You pull away taking the drawing in your hand and placing it front and center on the fridge with a homemade magnet. 

And you take one look around at everything. And the puzzle finally feels complete. 

This wasn’t just a new beginning.

This isn’t just a second chance, 

Maybe it was the right one all along.

© brokenengene

note: Thank you for reading this far! I hope it lived up to expectations! If it did I would love to hear about it! I was so emotional writing this chapter, definitely held back tears during editing. (Mostly because I'm painfully single right now 🥹) I'm so incredibly grateful for every comment, reblog, and like. It really means the world to me and inspires me to write for hours on end.

Again, I'm beyond grateful for the support. I wish you all the best. 💕

Written with love,

xoxo kate <3

masterlist!

taglist: @iweirdthingblog @stormlit-pages @gyuw1fe @m1kkso @luvksnn @miauumin @la-choiblog @mheretoreadff @rpwpthv @yohanabanana @sourkiki @ki2rins @cutehoons02 @remehokusoo @snowprincehoon @7789995323567322 @manuosorioh @ilovehoonie @xoenhalover @rosepetals09 @beomguys11 @godisdidi @ashirp @coconutx-o @hanamiwa1414 @niyzu @kimuranirisi @ninistranaut @dulcetnostalgia

[sydwritess]

Premier Night

Lewis hamilton x fem!reader

Summary: After the Canadian race, you and Lewis fly straight to his penthouse in NYC, spending some time together before the big f1 movie premier.

Second Person POV

Notes: requests are open!

You and Lewis had left his hotel in Montreal a couple of hours ago. You were waiting at the airport for Lewis's plane to arrive, he brought you to a hanger that was out in the airfield, both relaxing inside while you waited.

"You alright there?" Lewis said, putting his hand on your bouncing leg.

"Hm? Oh yeah. Just fine." You smile.

"You don't have to be nervous, this is normal." He smiled.

"Oh yeah... normal. Yeah I always hang out in private hanger's waiting for a private jet to come fly me anywhere. It's always fun." You say sarcastically.

"You know what I mean. It's just a plane." He said quietly, chuckling under his breath.

"With fancy leather seats and flat screen TV's?"

"No TV's just your phone." He said.

"Oh, well.... I guess that's okay then, right? Make's it more normal." You say.

"Relax. Charles is going to be with us. So it will be like a... slumber party." He said, raising his head at the thought.

"Right. Right." You laugh. The both of you wait longer, until you hear a plane fly in, slowly rolling up to the hanger.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." You say.

He gently grabs your hand, leading you to the staircase up to the plane. You walk up with him, the person standing at the top grabs your bags and follows you into the plane.

"See? Normal." He says.

"Normal." You repeat.

He slightly laughs and you two sit together at a small table. You sat in silence, when Charles suddenly appears on the plane.

"Hey mate." Lewis said, shaking Charles hand.

"Nice plane." Charles said, sitting across from you and Lewis.

"I know. Normal, right?" Lewis asked. You turn your head to him and teasingly roll your eyes.

"Y/n, you have any?" Charles asked.

"Oh yeah, a ton." You smirked.

"Really?" Lewis and Charles asked in unison.

"Yup. I got a blue one, a red one, a green one, and one that has my name on it, in big, bold letters." You say.

"Oh, so just lowkey." Charles joked.

"Exactly." You point. The three of you laugh.

When everything is situated, the plane takes off, flying down to New York.

It was a quick flight, only and hour to get there. When you finally landed, you got all of your bags, making your way slowly through security.

"This takes for ever. Why do we have to do this!" Charles whinned.

"What do you have something to hide?" Lewis teased.

It took another twenty minutes to get through security, and all of you went outside the airport. Personal security following the three of you out.

You got led to Charles got led to his car and you got led to Lewis's.

"Wow, you must really be special. You got a chauffer and everything." You say, getting in the back seat of the car with Lewis.

"Oh you know how it is." He laughs.

"I never knew you were that famous." You tease. He laughs and places his hand gently on your leg, sitting closer to you.

"Have you ever been to New York?" He asked.

"Jeez, you make it sound like I'm uncultured." You say, smiling.

"Oh really? What places do you know about then." He asked.

"Top of the rock, Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Manhattan, Empire State Building, Pier 17, Twin Tower memorial, Summit one Vanderbilt, Brooklyn Bridge, Public Library Flagship...." You pause, looking at Lewis as he just give you a wide grin.

"I can keep going." You smirk.

"You want to name the street address's to?" He said, you playfully smack him in the arm.

"Why? Are you mad because I know about New York?" You ask.

"Excuse me Miss. but I live there." He says.

"Don't you live in Monaco?"

"Yes... and here."

"Hmm. That screams rich people vibes."

"I am not rich."

"Mhm, okay." You say, smiling.

The drive to his house was around an hour long, you guys got to drive past some historic sight's, shops and different parts of the city before arriving to his house.

You both got out of the car, grabbed your bags and made your way up through the apartment building. Arriving at the top floor.

There were big, ceiling to floor windows in the living room and dinning room, having a full view of the city.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Lewis asks, walking into the kitchen.

"No I'm okay. Thank you." You say. You slowly walk over to the dinning table, sitting down at it while looking out the window.

You could see everything. The Empire State Building, all of the different buildings surrounding that. From afar you could see across the river to Jersey City.

And from the living room, if you looked out just right, you could see the Statue of Liberty far away.

Lewis came back, sitting next to you.

"Are you excited for the premier tonight?" You ask.

"Yeah, I think it will be cool. At night and all." He said.

"What are you wearing?"

"A pink suit top thing, with black pants." He smiled. You nod.

"What about you?"

"Me? I'm- I'm not going." You say slowly.

"Since when?"

"Since I'm not in the movie?" You question.

"Well you are going. You'll be my plus one." He smiles.

"No, I am just here to be here. It's your night." You say.

"And I want my night to be with you." He says, standing up.

He walks over to the door where the suitcases are, he grabs both and starts walking down the hallway to his room.

"Come on!" He shouts, you get up, walking behind him into his room.

He set's the suit cases up on his bed, opening them and standing in front of them. You sit on his bed, looking as he paws through the clothes.

He lays out his suit neatly on the bed, and then starts looking through your suit case.

He looks through all of the clothes, pulling out multiple dresses, laying them next to his suit.

"What exactly are you looking for?" You ask.

"The perfect dress for you." He says, smiling widely.

"Come here." He waves over. You walk over and stand next to him.

He gently turns you by your shoulders to a nearby full body mirror.

"How about this?" He asks, holding up a long black dress.

"I don't know. I don't even know what this is about!" You say, throwing your hands up in slight frustration.

"The f1 movie, duh."

"I know, but like what are other people wearing. Other girls." You say quietly.

"They are probably wearing something that screams 'I'm at a premier.'"

"You pick." You say, looking up at him.

"Okay, but I will make you look amazing." He says.

He starts holding up dresses slowly, one by one, aligning them with your body.

"This... this is perfect." He says, holding up a long, light pink dress.

It was thin strapped, slightly dragging on the floor, a slight corset look at the chest and waist area, and a low v-cut. Something casual but stunning.

"What- whatever you think." You say.

He smiles at you through the mirror and hands you the dress.

"You really want me to put this on now?"

"Yes, I want to see how it looks." He said, smirking. He slowly pushed you into the bathroom and closed the door behind you.

You quickly changed into the dress, taking one last look in the mirror before stepping out. Lewis was sitting on the bed but stood as soon as you walked out.

"So?" You question, looking down at the dress and then back up at him.

"You look beautiful." He says, smiling widely.

"Thank you." You say shyly. "You should try your suit on." You say, directing your hand to his outfit.

He quickly grabs his suit and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door.

You slowly walk over to the mirror in the bedroom, gliding your hands slowly down the dress, looking over it.

You look at the whole thing, attempting to fix your hair as well, but nothing really fits.

After about five minutes, you see Lewis walk back out, walking over to you at the mirror.

"So?" He repeats.

"Well, don't you look beautiful." You tease, he lots out a small laugh.

"You look handsome." You say seriously.

"Thanks. What are you doing with your hair?"

"I don't know. It looks... weird." You say, picking up pieces and letting them fall.

"You could let me do it." He suggests.

"You? Do my hair?"

"Yeah, why not? It could be fun." He smirks.

"Okay... why not." You smile.

"But on one condition." He says, holding up a finger. "You have to let me pick what to do."

"Okay now I'm scared." You joke.

"Don't be. It'll be the best hair treatment you'll ever have." He says, walking into the bathroom.

You giggle at him as you wall back into the main area, sitting back at the dining table where you were.

He quickly rushes out after you, grabbing supplies after supplies, going back and forth from the bathroom to the table, until he stops.

"What about your hair?" You ask.

"It's fine. Plus, I already have many of these events to go to between races." He says, shrugging it off.

"Yeah but still, it's important." You say.

"Don't worry about me. Let's just worry about you." He says lowly, and starts doing your hair.

"Last I checked, this wasn't about me." You laugh.

"Alright... but what would you even do with my hair?"

"I could..." You sat there thinking for a moment. "Put it up for you?"

"See, there's nothing that could be done." He said you could feel his smirk from behind you.

"Okay, well, it is already hard when your hair is twisted. If I wasn't, I could do a lot." You say.

"Is that right?"

"Yeah, it is." You say, smiling.

He continues to do your hair, using multiple products, heat tools, everything. It was around 30 minutes when he finally started putting everything away.

You follow him back to the bedroom and look in the mirror. Your hair was in a tight slick back, a high ponytail at the top with curls.

"This looks really good." You say, looking at it closely.

"Thank you. I accept cash or card." He says sarcastically, holding out his hand. You laugh at him lightly.

He laughs as he goes into the bathroom to do his hair. He takes around five minutes before he comes back out.

The both of you walk out into the main area, getting your purse and your shoes on.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

"Yeah, let's do this." You smile.

He leans down towards you, giving you a quick kiss before grabbing your hand and walking out together.

Hey loves! Sorry for the rushed ending, this was supposed to be done the night of the premier but look where that got me! Comment to be added to the F1 tag list! Requests are open for anyone!

Tag list:

@latay7 @mimisweetz

[jordiemeow]

omg would love your thoughts on stepbrother!patrick. def a lot more of a freak

absolutely agreed. where art is a freak in private, patrick could not care LESS.

he's ogling you shamelessly, watching the way your shorts ride up or your tits spill out of your tank. wolf whistling, patting you on the ass when he passes and muttering fake apologies despite the way you catch a glimpse of the corner of his lip quirks as soon as he turns away. accidentally barges in on you in the shower when he needs his toothbrush but he takes his time to admire the curve of your body through the fogged-up glass and rubs one out afterwards.

he convinces himself it's you who wants it. the way you look at him and goad him when your parents aren't home. you're just as pervy as he is. or, at least, that's how he justifies it. actively makes comments like "you don't even try to be quiet, do you? it's like you want me to hear" when he hears you touching yourself in the next room over. on one occasion, he pushes his luck enough to 'accidentally' walk in on you, legs spread and toy nestled between them. you see him, of course. maybe you keep going anyways, just to mess with him.

"you like putting on a show that much, huh?"

and then the front door opens before things can escalate, leaving you both to come down from whatever the fuck that was alone in your separate bedrooms.

it all comes to a head a while after that. you get blasted out of your mind at a party and he offers to take you home. not that he's in any state to drive, mind you, but he sees an opportunity. he somehow manages to get the pair of you home safely but neither of you make any effort to get out of the car. he leans over to undo your seatbelt for you, hand lingering on your thigh while the pair of you stare at each other. he's not sure who moves first—probably him—but five minutes later he has you bent over in the back seat right outside your house, ploughing into you, groaning about how he's wanted to do this for so long. about how he's sick of seeing you in bikinis and not being able to do anything, sucking on lolly pops to taunt him, leaving your door open just a crack when you're getting changed.

absolutely brags to art about it afterwards because he knows his best friend has a thing for you. "no condom, by the way. she liked it messy." art tells him he's sick, but he just shrugs it off. "maybe. but i still fucked her first."

maybe one night you bring a date home, cosied up on the couch to watch a movie. patrick's passive aggressive all night, deciding now he's a living room kind of guy to avoid leaving the pair of you alone. he justifies it by claiming he's just a 'good brother' and 'keeping an eye on you.' but when your date goes home, he's quick to corner you.

"you think he can fuck you better than me? bet he doesn't even know what you sound like when you cum."

"of course he does," you lie straight through your teeth.

"wanna compare? let me bend you over right now and prove it."

refuses to touch you until you're begging. his dirty talk is always absolutely filthy, always highlighting the reality of your relationship. "say it. say you want your stepbrother to fuck you. c'mon, use your words." he gets off on the thrill of being caught. sneaking into your room at night, hand over your mouth to silence your sweet mewls. every thrust a risk, each moan a gamble, but it's worth it in the end. "ah ah ah. shhh. you're being loud again, baby. you want them to hear? want them to know you're getting filled by their golden boy?"

he's big into hickeys. thinks it's fucking hilarious to point them out in front of your parents, acting like it wasn't him that left him there just to watch how embarrassed you get while your mother frowns in disapproval and his dad pretends not to notice.

he acts like he's proud of you. like you're just some innocent little thing. you get good grades—as far as your parents are concerned, you never do anything wrong. patrick would do anything to break that image. "you're such a good girl for everyone else.... but in this room, with my cock in your mouth? not daddy's sweet girl anymore, are you?"

or he makes you watch yourself in the mirror. hand curled around your throat to keep your head up so you can see the blissed out, cock-drunk look on your face. "look at yourself. look how fucked out you are. look what your stepbrother does to you."

he sends you filthy texts at the dinner table with your family asking whether you're thinking about it too. about him taking you right there. bet your pussy's already dripping through those little shorts. and when you reply with wanna check? he ducks his head under the table to 'pick up his fork,' met with the sight of you opposite him, pushing your shorts to the side, pussy glistening and no panties in sight. what a tease.

loves when you talk back. he's big into testing your limits: edging, choking, orgasm control, anal, calling you dirty names just to see how far he can take it. and you're always willing to go further. "look at you. from my bratty little stepsister to my perfect little slut."

also probably has a breeding kink. finds it especially hot because he's your 'brother.' send tweet

[chroniclesofskz]

Ride My Face Baby Girl

Meet Bang Chan, the CEO of Stellar Fashion, a man who could silence a room with a single glance. His sharp features and piercing dark eyes spoke of power and authority, a stark contrast to the soft whispers of fabric that accompanied his every move. The office buzzed with the electric anticipation of his arrival each day, as employees straightened ties and smoothed out wrinkles, hoping to catch his eye.

But not everyone was so eager to bask in his shadow. Enter Y/N, the new girl on the block, with a fire in her eyes that matched the vibrant H/C hair. Unlike the others, she wasn't so easily swayed by his charisma or his sharply tailored suits. In her mind, he was just another entitled prick who thought he could have anything he wanted, including her. But as the days passed, she couldn't deny the growing tension between them, a dance of wills that seemed to fuel his obsession.

Their interactions grew more frequent and intense, their banter a mix of professional and personal, with Bang Chan's eyes often lingering on her curves a beat too long. It was infuriating, yet strangely thrilling, like a cat playing with its prey. Y/N knew she was skating on thin ice, but she was determined to keep things strictly professional. After all, she needed this job.

One evening, the tension reached a boiling point. As the office emptied and the last of the day's light painted the sky, Bang Chan called out to her, his voice echoing down the hallway. She sighed, steeling herself for another round of his games. Entering his office, she found him leaning against his desk, his arms folded over his broad chest, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal strong forearms. He studied her with a look that was both hungry and challenging.

"Do you have any idea why you're here?" he asked, his voice a low growl that seemed to resonate through her body. Y/N swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as she met his gaze. She knew she had to keep her cool, but the way he looked at her was making it increasingly difficult. "No," she replied curtly, her voice a little shakier than she would have liked.

Bang Chan pushed off the desk and took a step closer to her. "You've been parading around here all week, flaunting that body of yours, and not giving me the time of day," he said, his eyes raking over her figure. "It's driving me mad."

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool. "I'm just doing my job," she said, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. But inside, she felt a thrill at his words. The fact that she had gotten under his skin was oddly satisfying.

He stepped closer, invading her personal space, and she could feel the heat of his body. "Is that what you call it?" he murmured, his breath warm against her neck. "Driving me wild with every twirl of your hips?"

Y/N tried to step back, but she was already against the wall. She put her hand on his chest to push him away, but instead of resisting, she felt the firmness of his muscles beneath the fabric, and her hand lingered. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice betraying the excitement she was trying to suppress.

His hand reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. "I want to taste you," he said, his eyes dark with desire. "To feel every inch of you tremble beneath me."

Her breath hitched, and she knew she should be offended, should push him away, but instead she found herself leaning into his touch. "You think I'm going to just give in to you?" she challenged, her eyes sparkling with defiance.

Bang Chan chuckled, the sound low and seductive. "I know you want it," he said, his voice a whisper against her ear. "I see it in the way your pupils dilate every time I'm near, the way your breathing changes." He took her hand and placed it over the bulge in his pants. "Feel that?" he asked, his voice a rough rasp. "That's all for you, baby girl."

Y/N's cheeks flushed, and she tried to pull her hand away, but he held it firmly in place. "This is inappropriate," she protested weakly, her body betraying her.

He leaned in closer, his mouth so close to hers that she could feel his warm breath on her skin. "Is it?" he whispered. "Or is it just what you've been waiting for?"

Before she could respond, his lips claimed hers in a kiss that was both demanding and possessive. Her resolve crumbled, and she kissed him back with a passion that surprised even herself. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and contour as if he had been waiting for this moment his whole life.

The sound of a zipper echoed through the room as he unzipped her dress, his fingers deftly unhooking her bra. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, his eyes greedily devouring the sight of her bare breasts. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Y/N's body responded to his words, her nipples hardening under his gaze. She felt a thrill of power as she watched him fight for control. With a smirk, she reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling him back towards her. "If you want me, you'll have to earn it," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr.

The challenge in her eyes was all it took for Bang Chan to snap. He picked her up, setting her on his desk as if she weighed nothing. His mouth found hers again, their kisses deepening as his hands began to explore her body, his fingers dancing over her sensitive skin.

"You want me to earn it?" he murmured against her lips, his voice a dark promise. "I'll make you beg for it, baby girl."

Without warning, he slid his hand between her thighs, finding her already wet and ready. He inserted two fingers, stroking her with a precision that sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. Her eyes went wide, and she gasped as he curled them just right, hitting that spot that made her see stars.

The room filled with the sound of their ragged breaths and the slick sound of his fingers moving in and out of her. His thumb circled her clit, pressing down just enough to make her hips buck. She felt the tension building, the pressure mounting, and she knew she was close.

"You're going to come for me," he murmured, his voice a dark promise that sent a shiver down her spine. "I want to feel you drench my hand."

Y/N bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to escape as his fingers worked their magic. But it was no use. With a gasp, she felt the wave of pleasure wash over her, and she squirted all over his desk. He groaned in approval, his eyes never leaving hers as she rode the intense orgasm.

Her body trembled as she came down from the high, her breathing returning to normal. She felt a sense of vulnerability wash over her, but also a strange sense of satisfaction. She had never been with a man who could make her feel so alive, so desired.

Bang Chan pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean. "Mmm, delicious," he said with a wink. "But we're not done yet."

Without a word, he took Y/N's hand and led her over to the plush burgundy Chesterfield sofa that dominated one corner of the office. He lay down, his tie now loosened and shirt untucked. He patted his face, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Ride my face," he said, the words dripping with lust.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her heart racing and her mind reeling. But something in the way he looked at her, with such hunger and desire, made her want to give in. She straddled his head, her legs trembling slightly as she positioned herself. His nose grazed her clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through her, and she gasped.

He began to lick and suck, his tongue delving deep into her wetness. His hands gripped her thighs, keeping her steady as she rocked her hips back and forth. The leather of the sofa was cool against her bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his mouth. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter with every stroke, her body responding to his expert touch.

Her hands found their way to her breasts, her nipples hard and sensitive as she pinched and played with them. The sight of her bouncing on his face, her hair cascading down around her, was almost too much for him to handle. He groaned, the sound muffled by her pussy, and she felt his grip tighten on her thighs.

Y/N threw her head back, her eyes closing as she let the waves of pleasure wash over her. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Harder," she moaned, her voice barely a whisper.

Bang Chan didn't need any more encouragement. He buried his face deeper into her, his tongue working her clit in fast, firm circles. He could feel her legs starting to shake, her hips bucking against his mouth as she approached climax.

And then she was there, screaming his name as she came all over his face. He lapped it up greedily, savoring the taste of her sweet release. When she finally collapsed onto the sofa beside him, breathless and panting, he gave her a smug look. His face glistened with her arousal, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill at the sight. He leaned in, kissing her softly, and she could taste herself on his lips. It was an intimate, erotic moment that she didn't expect.

With a cheeky smirk, she whispered, "Was that all you've got?" Y/N was surprised by her own boldness, but it was clear she had tapped into a side of herself that she had never explored before.

Bang Chan chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Not even close, baby girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "We're just getting started."

Y/N looked at him with a mix of surprise and excitement, her breath still ragged from the intense orgasm. She couldn't believe she had allowed this to happen in the office, but something about his commanding presence made it feel right. He stood up, his own desire evident in the bulge straining against his pants.

With a flick of his wrist, he undid his belt and let his pants fall to the floor, revealing his hard, throbbing cock. She stared, her eyes widening at the size of it. "Like what you see?" he asked, stroking himself slowly.

"You're… huge," she breathed, unable to tear her gaze away.

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "And you're going to take every inch of me," he said with a smirk, his voice full of confidence.

Y/N felt a thrill of fear mixed with arousal. She had never been with a man this dominant before, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating. He stepped closer to her, his cock brushing against her inner thigh. "Now, let's see if that mouth of yours is as feisty as your attitude," he murmured, guiding her head towards his cock.

Her heart was racing, but she knew she wanted this. With a nod of determination, she leaned in and took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip as she began to suck. He groaned, his hand fisting in her hair as he guided her rhythm. She took him deeper, feeling the veins pulsing in his length, the taste of him making her even wetter.

As she bobbed her head, he watched her with hooded eyes, his grip on her hair tightening slightly. "That's it, baby girl," he said, his voice strained. "Take it all."

Y/N felt a rush of power knowing she could make him feel this way. She took him deeper, her cheeks hollowing out as she worked her mouth along his shaft. She could feel him getting closer, his breaths becoming shallower, his hips jerking slightly as he fought for control.

But just as she was getting into the rhythm, he pulled away, leaving her gasping for air. "Not yet," he said with a smirk. "There's something I want to do first."

Without warning, he picked her up and carried her over to the large, mahogany desk that dominated the room. He laid her down, her legs dangling over the edge, and spread her open. "Now, let's see if I can make you scream louder," he said, his eyes darkening with desire.

He slammed into her without preamble, filling her completely in one swift motion. Y/N gasped, her nails digging into the wood as he began to thrust. Each stroke was deep and demanding, his powerful hips driving into her with a force that made the desk creak beneath them.

The sound of their skin slapping together filled the room, punctuated by her moans and his grunts. She felt herself climbing towards another peak, her body responding to his every command. His hands roamed her body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as he claimed her completely.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, he reached between them, finding her clit and giving it a firm press. She came again, her body arching off the desk as she screamed his name, her walls tightening around his cock.

He didn't stop, his movements becoming more frantic as he chased his own release. His eyes were locked on hers, and she could see the hunger in them, the need to claim her fully. And in that moment, she knew she was his, and she didn't want it any other way.

As the last of her orgasm faded away, she watched him, panting and desperate. "Come for me," she whispered, and with a final, powerful thrust, he did, filling her with his hot seed.

They lay there for a moment, their bodies tangled and sweaty, the tension of the day giving way to the afterglow of passion. But she knew that this was just the beginning of a very complicated dance between them.

[izzih22]

My favorite trope is bestie to lovers but you already did a story like that before I believe so do enemies to lovers or friends with benefits

Don’t Make This Complicated

Note: I hope y’all like this I wasn’t to sure what to do ngl

Azzi’s breath caught when she heard the lock click behind her.

Paige didn’t say a word.

Just leaned against the door of her apartment, arms crossed, blue eyes fixed on Azzi like she already knew exactly what she came for. Like this had all happened before.

Because it had.

Too many times.

Too many nights where they crossed lines they swore they wouldn’t. Where it was supposed to just be casual no strings, no feelings, no talking about it after.

Paige never asked her to stay the night. Azzi never expected her to.

But still, she always lingered a little too long.

Azzi swallowed hard. “Hey.”

Paige didn’t move. “You said you weren’t coming.”

“I changed my mind.”

Paige stepped closer, slow and sure. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded, cheeks flushed already. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“You never can without me, huh?”

Azzi didn’t respond, but the way her body shifted, soft and uncertain, gave her away. Paige loved that how easily Azzi came undone, how she never had to say a word for Paige to read her like a favorite book she knew by heart.

Without asking, Paige reached for her, hand curling around the back of Azzi’s neck. Gentle at first. Then tighter. Azzi let out the smallest exhale, one that made Paige smirk.

“Take off your shoes.”

Azzi obeyed.

“Jacket too.”

Azzi shrugged it off, every movement unhurried, almost reverent. She knew the game. Knew what Paige liked. Knew exactly where this was headed.

But tonight felt… different.

Paige guided her to the couch, fingers brushing against Azzi’s waist. “Sit.”

Azzi sat, legs close together, hands in her lap like she didn’t know what to do with them.

“You nervous?” Paige asked, voice low, teasing.

Azzi looked up at her. “No.”

“Liar.”

Paige moved in between Azzi’s knees, hand resting on her thigh. Azzi’s breath hitched again.

“I don’t get you,” Paige murmured, her thumb brushing soft circles over Azzi’s skin. “You say this doesn’t mean anything, that it’s just physical. But you look at me like I’m everything.”

Azzi blinked, caught.

“I—I don’t.”

Paige leaned in. “You do.”

Her lips hovered just above Azzi’s. “You act like you’re mine.”

Azzi whispered, “I am, when I’m here.”

That flicker of vulnerability… Paige felt it like a punch to the chest. She kissed her then, fierce and unrelenting. Azzi melted into it, her hands clutching at Paige’s hoodie like she was drowning and Paige was the only thing keeping her above water.

This wasn’t just about heat or tension or dominance anymore.

It was the way Azzi always gave herself so completely without needing to be asked.

It was the way Paige couldn’t help but want to protect her, ruin her, hold her all at once.

Paige pulled back, lips swollen, eyes searching Azzi’s face. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

Azzi nodded slowly. “You do the same to me.”

“Then why are we still pretending this is just sex?”

Azzi didn’t answer at first. Just looked at her with something raw in her eyes.

“Because if I say it out loud,” she said, voice shaking, “I’m scared you’ll leave.”

Paige was quiet.

Then, she sat back slightly, taking Azzi’s chin between her fingers, tilting her face up.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Paige said. “Not unless you tell me to.”

Azzi’s eyes closed. Her lips trembled. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t.”

And she didn’t.

Not that night. Not the next.

And somewhere between the kisses and the tangled limbs in Paige’s bed, neither of them could pretend anymore.

Whatever this was it was already more.

They just weren’t ready to say it.

Not yet.

But soon.

Maybe next time.

Maybe when Paige didn’t leave the room after. Maybe when Azzi finally asked her to stay.

[consume-cs]

valentina (02) ◯○ crazy rich korean boy

big reputation, oh, you and me would be in a big conversation | 💋 | 🕷️enhypen content | materialist | crazy rich asian series

english isn't my first language. park sunghoon. rich boy — just sunghoon being your rich bf ﷼

building a room just to hear you play the piano.

Since kid, you’ve been playing the piano for your entire life but even when you were dating Sunghoon, there was only a few times where he got the chance to see you playing it. So, after you got married, he decided to make a surprise for you once the house was completely finished. He made a whole room for you with a huge classic piano for you.

letting you his black card.

It’s the time where you have an argument with him and you’re still mad with him, so when you remember you have your own money, you decide to go out and explore the world to calm yourself down.

Even if he tries to talk with you but you don’t want to, he secretly puts his black card on your bag to make sure you can spend all the money you want if that’s going to calm you down.

But at the end of the day, he knows you’re going to end up at his office because you don’t like to go out alone.

every gift has a detail.

Sunghoon loves seeing you happy and he knows how much you like receiving gifs from him on the most random days, but every gift he gives you has a note inside of it. One day, he gifted you a pair of pink stone earrings and he wrote a note on the box saying, "Wear this when you want to feel like a princess, well you’re already a princess".

private jet reunion.

There's moments where you have to travel to another country for work and every time you have to do it, Sunghoon can't handle it very well. I mean, his whole schedule gets ruined when you're not around him and knowing you're not going to be home when he gets there, it's hurtful.

So when the private jet is landing, you already know he's waiting for you because he called you more than five times that day, asking how long he has to wait for you. When you get out of the plane, he walks to you and lift you up with excitement. "Never leaving you that long again".

equestrian date.

His family and him love horses and he's been saying how excited would be if he teaches you how to ride a horse. After work, he drives you to his family's private ranch where he shows you his black horse that his father brought from Sweden for his 18's birthday.

He lifts you up until you're sitting on the horse saddle and then he effortlessly sits behind you, holding tighly the rope that goes around the horse's neck and also getting you closer to his broad chest. "Ready?" He mutters to your ear.

morning breakfast.

Almost every morning he wakes up earlier than you and it's because he's waiting for the private chef to finish preparing breakfast so he can bring you it to the bed, waking you up with forehead kisses.

sunrise at Los Cabos.

Since all of his friends convinced you to see the sunrise together, you convince Sunghoon as well to stay up with some kisses and he inmediately say yes, which is why Heeseung has been teasing him saying that he's completely dominated by you. And since it's a bit cold due to the morning breeze, he hugs you from behind resting his chin of your head as his arms wrap around your waist.

frozen lake for ice skating.

Sunghoon loves ice skating so it's a perfect time to visit your grandparents to Sweden since it's winter, and once he knows the lake is completely frozen, your grandparents already have some pairs of ice skates for both of you.

You're not a professional as him but seeing him skating around with delicacy and elegance makes you so happy. Also he holds your hands when he sees you struggling and guides you on the frozen ice.

soft spot for you and a playlist about you.

When he's at the company, he has to play a role of being a great representation of Park's family, but at the same it's exhausting so when he gets home, he walks to you and rest his head on your lap and he relaxes his body after a long day of work.

He has a playlist he listens to on his office just to remember you at every hour of the day, but it's something you don't know about.

— crazy rich asian series

xoxo girl💋…

© consume_cs

[nhmkhnh]

hellooo, do you take c.ai requests? if so, may i please request a rich!older!abby who is a professional trainer and former athlete, (or maybe owns an athletic company or something) who makes diet plans for her younger!bimbo!girlfriend, and she likes, helps her workout and stuff too

𐔌 older!rich!abby anderson ━ younger!bimbo!fem!user ⸝⸝

≔ chat here (c.ai)! || ≔ chat here (janitor ai)! (soon?)

the weights clink quietly in the background. not the heavy kind—abby made sure of that. those were racked neatly out of reach. instead, she has her girl on resistance bands and soft pastel dumbbells, everything color-coded and easy to grip with manicured hands. no strain, no sweat—just enough to keep her toned. soft. touchable. pretty.

exactly how abby likes her.

she leans back on the leather bench, sweat still glistening across her own sculpted abs from her 5 am deadlifts. a protein shake in one hand, the other lazily holding her girl’s pink ipad, where the custom diet plan she spent three hours perfecting last night is open in a sparkly notes app.

“tuesday: oat milk smoothie, one scoop vanilla whey, four strawberries, half banana. protein waffles. no syrup.”

abby smiles at her own work. she’d even added a glitter heart sticker next to “abby’s approved 😘.”

she watches {{user}} curl the light weights in a matching set of baby blue—sports bra too small, shorts riding up that ridiculous ass abby spoils rotten. she could barely focus during that board meeting this morning, kept thinking about how she wanted to bend her girl over the conference table and—

“back straight, baby,” she murmurs instead, voice low and fond.

{{user}} adjusts instantly.

good girl.

abby gets up, padding across the plush flooring in her sports bra and compression leggings, broad frame casting a shadow over {{user}}. she gently sets her hands on her girlfriend’s waist and guides the motion. “there we go. just like that. you’re doing so good for me.”

she watches her form. watches the little pout when her arms get tired. watches the way her thighs jiggle just the right amount. abby swears she’s never been more obsessed in her life.

after a few more reps, she pulls the weights away and replaces them with a bottle of electrolyte water she imported from italy because it’s pink and tastes like strawberries. “hydrate,” she commands softly. then wipes her girl’s forehead with a warm towel.

“let’s do stretches now, yeah?” she says. “don’t wanna pull anything. you’re too precious for that.”

she leads her into the next room, where floor-length mirrors reflect the two of them—abby: tall, muscled, confident; {{user}}: dolled up, small in her hands, perfect. abby helps guide her into each stretch, palms sliding over soft skin under the pretense of “correcting form,” when really she just wants to touch. needs to.

the more abby presses close, the more the scent of her shampoo rises—something expensive and sugary sweet. the kind that lingers on abby’s pillows long after {{user}} slips back into her pink car and drives home, lip gloss still smeared on her cheek.

except abby never lets her leave without dinner. never lets her leave at all if she can help it.

once stretches are done, abby scoops her girl into her lap without warning, still sitting on the yoga mat. “you did so good, sweetheart,” she praises, voice thick, low against {{user}}’s neck. “you followed your meal plan, you finished your sets, you even texted me your weight like i asked.” a kiss to the jaw. “proud of you.”

she pulls out her phone and shows her a little progress chart she made, complete with sparkles and a photo of {{user}} at the top. “we’re gonna keep going slow, okay? keep you healthy. soft. just how i like you.”

[zerocoded]

summary: what is like to date idol!txt.

author's note: i wish i could turn this into an idol!series where i portray them as our boyfies because i have SO MANY ideas like this but i'm can't tell if anyone would enjoy this lol. also, not me writing this while i'm studying for my finals and trying not to die from burnout. but hey! at least my winter break is close teehee. txt is here to help me with my delulu and ALSO I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT COMEBACK, I FEEL LIKE IT'S GOING TO BE BIG. this work is part of our moa net here on tumblr, you should check it out! @onedreamnet.

warnings and tags: sfw content • ot5!separate x reader • fem!reader in mind • fluff • domestic txt • est. relationship • the boys are so soft here i want to cuddle them • one kissy kiss scene on taehyun's.

word count: 3.1k (500~700 per member).

my kpop masterlist: here.

★˚๑🎐％���choi yeonjun﹕ᘏᘏ୭₊˚

the duality drives you insane.

in public — on stage, in photos, under the lights — he’s confident in a way that borders on unfair. head tilted, eyes half-lidded, body moving like he owns the air around him. no hesitation. no nerves. just pure, deliberate charisma.

but offstage?

you catch him sulking in the kitchen because he dropped his dumpling on the floor and “no one will ever understand that kind of grief.”

you’ve learned his patterns by now.

the morning of a performance, he’s quiet. not because he’s nervous — not exactly — but because he’s already thinking about the camera angles. the formations. the fans. the five-second part where he gets to smirk like a villain and cause cardiac arrest on a national scale.

you sip your coffee across from him in the early morning silence. he’s still in pajama pants, hair pushed back with a headband, eyes unfocused as he mumbles his lines under his breath between bites of toast.

“you’re going to burn a hole through the table,” you say softly.

he looks up, blinking. “was i being weird again?”

you nod.

he smiles.

and when he gets up, he kisses your forehead like it’s the one part of him not too busy to love.

later, you visit the music show set.

he’s already in full styling when you arrive — velvet jacket, smoky liner, lip tint sharp enough to cut. he looks nothing like the boy who fell asleep face down on your laundry pile two nights ago.

“don’t look at me like that,” he says as you approach. “you’re going to make me trip on stage.”

you hold up the bag you brought. “you forgot your vitamins.”

he blinks. you raise a brow.

he pouts.

“thank you, baby,” he says, voice soft and dramatic all at once, like he’s the main character in a romance film. he holds your hand for half a second too long. “will you cheer for me?”

you smirk. “only if you wink during your center part.”

“that’s illegal.”

“do it.”

he does.

after the show, you find him sitting on a folding chair in the corner of the dressing room, head tipped back, chest rising and falling with exertion.

you crouch beside him, hands gently brushing his thighs. “hey.”

his eyes flutter open. “did i do okay?”

you almost laugh. “you’re joking, right?”

he smiles sleepily. “just wanted to hear you say it.”

you press a kiss to his shoulder. “you killed it.”

he leans into your touch, the heat of performance slowly melting into something tender.

“can we go home?” he murmurs.

“you still have a fan call.”

he groans, flopping dramatically. “they don’t let me rest.”

“i’ll wait,” you say. “we’ll eat after.”

his eyes light up. “can i pick the place?”

you roll your eyes. “you always do.”

that night, you fall asleep with him tucked into your side — his hair damp from a late shower, his breathing slow, one arm curled around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

he always wants to be babied after a stage. wants back rubs and snacks and quiet praise whispered into his hair.

“you were perfect,” you murmur against his temple, fingers tracing his spine. “i’m proud of you.”

he exhales, almost asleep now, and whispers:

“you make it all feel worth it.”

and you hold him a little tighter.

★˚๑🎐％﹒choi soobin﹕ᘏᘏ୭₊˚

you didn’t expect soobin to be this… domestic.

the first time he spends the night at your place after promotions end, he shows up at your door with a tub of strawberries, three different types of cereal, and a full-size body pillow he carries like a briefcase. no suitcase, no overnight bag. just snacks and sleep gear.

“don’t judge,” he says, stepping out of his shoes. “my brain is too tired to pack properly.”

he immediately lies down on your floor like his bones have dissolved. doesn’t even make it to the bed. you poke him with your foot. “you good?”

“i live here now,” he mumbles.

being with soobin means you never know what version of him you’re going to get.

sometimes he’s the shy, blushing leader who asks “can i hold your hand?” even after months of dating. other times he wraps himself around you on the couch like a weighted blanket and says “you’re mine now” while chewing crackers like a menace.

he kisses the top of your head when he’s proud. gives you a thumbs up when he’s too shy to say “you look beautiful.” and tries to act cool when he walks into a door frame because he still forgets how tall he is.

idol life with soobin is not as glamorous as you thought.

he practices so hard his neck sounds like bubble wrap when he turns it. sometimes you massage his shoulders while he’s half-asleep on your lap and he lets out a noise so pained you almost cry laughing.

he loses his phone in the fridge. he forgets to eat. he falls asleep mid-conversation, still holding his chopsticks, because rehearsals went until 2am. and you tuck him in, clean up, and never say a word.

when he wakes up the next morning, guilt in his eyes, you just hand him a warm can of coffee and say, “don’t even start.”

he hugs you for five full minutes.

when you visit him on set, he pretends not to notice you at first. just nods politely, like you’re staff. until you pass by his chair and whisper, “your mic pack is crooked.”

then he turns pink. very pink. and immediately fixes his posture. his members don’t say a word—but they’re smirking. especially beomgyu.

later, during a break, he sneaks over to where you’re sitting behind the monitors and plops down beside you with a sigh.

“missed you,” he whispers, forehead bumping your shoulder.

you pull out a protein bar. he lights up like a golden retriever. “you know me so well.”

“you only like this one because it tastes like cookies.”

“exactly. healthy cookies. it’s good for my image.”

you raise a brow. “your image?”

he leans in, voice low and teasing. “you mean my boyfriend image? the one where i’m tall, sweet, and snack-efficient?”

on tour, he texts you only when it’s quiet.

after the stages, the chaos, the screaming fans and interviews, he always finds a few minutes in the hotel room to send you something real.

sometimes it’s a photo of the ceiling with “i wish you were here.” sometimes it’s “what if we just lived in a cabin and raised rabbits.” sometimes it’s just “i’m tired. but i love you.”

you never pressure him to call. you know his body hurts. you know the silence is sacred after giving so much of himself away.

so you send back things like “drink water, stretch your legs, think about my face.” and he replies with a sleepy selfie and a peace sign.

he gets back after two weeks on the road and the first thing he says when you open the door is:

“do you still have the cereal i left here?”

you do. and he kisses your cheek like it’s the biggest act of devotion he’s capable of.

★˚๑🎐％﹒choi beomgyu﹕ᘏᘏ୭₊˚

dating beomgyu is like having a cat that bullies you all day but sleeps curled into your side every night.

he says things like “you’re obsessed with me” when you ask if he’s eaten, and then posts your shared playlist on his story with no caption. he makes fun of your hair when you wake up, then ties his hoodie around your waist if you ever mention feeling self-conscious.

he flirts like he’s joking, but stares like he means it.

the first time you visit his dorm (unofficially, when the members are out), he spends the entire afternoon pretending he doesn’t care.

“this place is nothing special,” he says while literally dusting the keyboard of his PC with a microfiber cloth. “i didn’t clean for you,” he adds, minutes after you catch him color-coding his sock drawer. “and that candle was already lit. it’s not for ambience or anything.”

you raise a brow. “is that… a cheese board?”

“shut up.”

idol life with beomgyu is unpredictable. one day he’s writing songs with raw vulnerability. the next he’s sticking googly eyes on the studio whiteboard and pretending they’re his A&R team.

you’ve seen both versions.

you’ve seen him hold a guitar like it’s a shield. you’ve seen him nearly cry because a take wasn’t perfect. you’ve seen him rip his in-ears out after a recording and say, voice flat: “i’m not good enough.”

you sat with him on the floor, forehead to his shoulder, and said nothing.

he doesn’t need cheering up. he just needs to know you’re there.

later, when he’s back in his element, screaming about a pizza discount code, he throws himself onto your lap and says, “you always bring me luck. you know that, right?”

he texts you like a menace.

🧍‍♂️: i saw a dog today and thought of u 🧍‍♂️: but in a cute way 🧍‍♂️: actually nvm i take it back 🧍‍♂️: are you free tmrw or do you hate me

he also sends you voice memos where he sings badly on purpose just to make you laugh.

but sometimes, right before bed, he’ll send a 12-second clip of a guitar riff he’s working on. no words. just sound. soft, warm, intimate.

you save every single one.

when you visit him backstage during promotions, he tries to act unfazed—but his entire face lights up when he spots you. he’s mid-hair touch-up, blush still fresh on his cheeks, mic taped to his jaw.

“you came,” he says like he didn’t remind you of the schedule twice and send a location pin.

you hand him a snack. he looks at it like it’s priceless. “you get me.”

“it’s literally just a peach tea.”

“and yet… from your hand?”

you roll your eyes. but when he walks back to the dressing room, he takes the tea with him. drinks it in every behind-the-scenes video. holds it like it’s good luck.

you don’t realize how much he talks about you until taehyun tells you, deadpan: “if i hear one more ‘my baby did this cute thing’ story i’m blocking him.”

“you’re just jealous,” beomgyu says. “my baby has rizz.”

he calls you that too—my baby. unironically. constantly. even in front of staff.

but then you catch him watching fancams of you (he took them himself) on the couch, face soft and unguarded, and he quickly shuts the screen. “wasn’t even watching anything,” he lies.

you don’t bring it up.

he buys you matching keychains. he “accidentally” leaves a stuffed animal on your bed. he begs you to stream his comeback and then says “actually don’t, it’s cringe,” even though he secretly checks if you listened.

he pulls you onto his lap when you’re sitting too far. he tucks your hair behind your ear when you’re ranting. and when you cry—really cry—he doesn’t joke. doesn’t speak.

he just wraps his arms around you and says, “i’ve got you, baby.”

and for once, you believe him completely.

★˚๑🎐％﹒kang taehyun﹕ᘏᘏ୭₊˚

you don’t remember when exactly it happened, but somewhere along the way, you started treating taehyun like gravity.

he doesn’t ask for your attention — doesn’t need to. he’s just there. solid, steady, magnetic. he listens more than he talks, watches more than he reacts, and loves in the way most people overlook — in water bottles handed to you without a word, phone batteries at 78% because he charged them while you slept, and texts that say “lock your door tonight. i saw the news.”

he doesn’t say “i love you” that often. but he acts like it constantly.

he wakes up at 6am even when he doesn’t have schedules. works out in silence. tracks his reps on a crumpled post-it you keep trying to replace with an app. tells you, deadpan, “the gym is my therapy,” and then does squats to BLACKPINK like it’s nothing.

and he’s hot. obviously. but not in the loud, performative way — more in the how is your side profile even legal way.

he ties his hair back and opens water bottles with one hand. stares at contracts on his laptop like he’s about to buy out the company. walks around shirtless after practice like it’s your fault for looking.

you once called him “CEO boyfriend” as a joke. now he uses it to get his way.

“i can’t carry your groceries today,” you mutter. “would a ceo let you lift things?” “…you’re holding an iced americano with two straws.” “exactly. for us.”

idol taehyun is a different beast.

you see it when you visit the studio — the switch. he nods at staff, reviews choreography videos, calls out adjustments to their stage formations like a perfectionist who knows he’s right. and he is. he always is.

he’s not cold. just focused. a little intimidating.

okay, a lot.

you sit in the back, thumbing your phone, and watch him work like he was born for it. no wasted words. no wasted moves. the others tease him for being a robot, but you know the truth.

he just doesn’t half-ass anything.

and that includes you.

he’s the kind of boyfriend who remembers your schedule better than you do. who texts “wear a jacket” before the weather even shifts. who watches your reactions when you eat something new because he wants to know if you like it before you say anything.

he brings you home vitamin packets and high-protein snacks. then lies with his head in your lap for two hours while you scroll through reels and read fan comments out loud. he pretends he doesn’t care. but every time you read one that says “taehyun’s the boyfriend type fr,” he smiles. just a little.

after performances, he’s quiet.

not in a moody way. just… cooling off. energy still simmering under his skin. you help him undo his mic tape. he watches your hands like they’re fragile things, even though you’re tugging pretty hard.

“good show,” you murmur.

he shrugs. “i messed up the angle on the chorus.”

you raise a brow. “literally no one noticed.”

he looks at you then — really looks at you — and it’s like the whole room stills.

“you did,” he says. softly. honestly.

your breath catches. “i’m not a critic.”

“you’re my person,” he replies. “it matters.”

he doesn’t do PDA in front of staff. never kisses you in dressing rooms. rarely even holds your hand where others can see. but every now and then — in the hallway, behind the black curtain before a show, in the elevator after press — he’ll lean down and whisper, “come here.”

and when he kisses you?

it’s slow. confident. the kind of kiss that says i’m not afraid of anyone knowing you’re mine — i just like keeping it between us.

when he’s away, he never says “i miss you.” he says things like:

“don’t forget to eat protein.” “i’ll call after the shoot.” “send me a picture. just you. no filters.”

and when he comes back?

he pulls you into his arms like he never wants to let go. buries his face in your neck. sighs like home is finally real.

“missed you,” he says, once. “i know,” you say back. and he smiles.

★˚๑🎐％﹒huening kai﹕ᘏᘏ୭₊˚

you realize you love him the day he apologizes for looking at you too long.

“sorry,” he mumbles. “i didn’t mean to stare.”

you’re sitting across from each other, legs tangled under the kotatsu table. his hoodie sleeves are pulled over his palms. his cheeks are pink. and he’s looking at you like you hung the moon and forgot to tell anyone.

you blink. “kai,” you say, gently. “you’re allowed to look.”

he shrinks a little, but he nods.

he doesn’t know what to do with attention — not really. not when it’s personal. not when it’s you.

you’ve heard it in passing before — in interviews, old livestreams, articles that fans have archived and translated — that kai has always been quietly unsure about his looks.

it doesn’t make sense to you. he’s so striking in person it almost hurts. luminous eyes. impossible bone structure. a smile that feels like finding your favorite song after a bad day.

but insecurity isn’t about logic. and kai isn’t the kind of person who wants praise just to hear it.

he wants to feel seen.

you learn how to love him in his language.

you send voice notes when he’s on tour — your voice soft, half-asleep, saying “i’m proud of you.”

you leave sticky notes in his backpack with doodles and stupid puns and reminders to stretch.

you call him pretty only when no one else is around. and he smiles every time like he’s hearing it for the first time.

his love language?

unlabeled. sideways. soft.

he leaves you little things: guitar picks in your coat pocket (“that one’s lucky”), a folded napkin with your name written in tiny hearts and a playlist titled “for when it rains but you still have to smile”

he doesn’t like big declarations. but he’ll hug you from behind when you’re brushing your teeth. hum into your neck when you’re washing dishes. whisper “i dreamed about you again” like he’s sharing a secret.

and then there’s the stage.

you never get used to that version of him — the one with a guitar strapped across his chest, a reed in his mouth, eyes glittering under the lights.

it’s not that he becomes someone else. it’s more like he steps into himself.

his body moves differently. his presence shifts. there’s this subtle confidence — not arrogant, just rooted. he plants his feet. commands the space. owns the note. and you, watching from the side curtain or through a screen, forget to breathe.

he finishes with the reed between his lips, hair slicked to his temples, and walks off like he didn’t just rearrange the earth’s axis.

you stare at him, stunned.

he looks back at you and says, in the softest voice:

“did i look weird?”

when he comes home, he doesn’t talk much. he curls into you on the couch, hoodie zipped all the way up, and plays chords on an unplugged electric guitar while you read. every once in a while, he’ll glance up — make a face — and go back to playing.

sometimes he lets you sit in his lap while he composes. sometimes he dozes off mid-layer, one headphone in, fingers still resting on the frets.

you kiss his forehead and tuck a blanket over him. he murmurs something you don’t catch. and you think — if this is love, then it’s the kind that doesn’t need to shout.

check out more works like this on here @onedreamnet !

author's note: first time writing for other members except soobin kinda nervous lol. send me a request • my masterpost