#Etched Champion

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Etched Champion by Matt Cavotta

[pucksandpower]

Like … for Uber?

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: maybe you should have been a bit more specific when you told your parents that your boyfriend drives for a living

The aroma of roast chicken and freshly baked rolls wafts through the air as you nervously adjust the centerpiece on the dining room table. Your parents and younger brother are due home any minute, and you’ve spent the afternoon preparing for this pivotal family dinner. Tonight, they’ll finally meet your boyfriend.

The doorbell chimes, sending a jolt through your body. You hurry to the entrance, smoothing down your dress before opening the door. Max stands there, a bouquet of flowers in hand and an easy smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “These are for your mother.”

“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that,” you reply, taking the flowers. “Come on in. My family should be here soon.”

As you lead Max into the living room, you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. You haven’t exactly been forthcoming about Max’s career, telling your family only that he’s “a driver.” It wasn’t a lie, per se, but you knew they assumed he worked for a ride-sharing service or delivery company.

“Nice place,” Max comments, looking around. “Very ... homey.”

You laugh. “Is that a polite way of saying it’s nothing like your fancy Monaco apartment?”

“No, I mean it,” he insists, pulling you close. “It feels lived-in. Comfortable.”

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway interrupts your moment. “That’ll be them,” you say, your stomach doing somersaults. “Ready?”

Max squeezes your hand. “Always.”

Your parents burst through the door, arms laden with grocery bags. Your mother’s face lights up when she spots Max.

“Oh, you must be the boyfriend!” She exclaims, setting down her bags to give him a hug. “You’re even more handsome than Y/N said.”

Your father steps forward, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, son. Heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Max replies with a chuckle.

As introductions are made, you can’t help but notice your parents exchanging curious glances. You know they’re dying to ask about Max’s job, but they’re too polite to broach the subject right away.

“Dinner smells amazing,” your father says, sniffing the air appreciatively. “Shall we sit down?”

Everyone gathers around the table, and you begin to serve the food. The conversation flows easily at first, with your parents asking Max about his family and where he grew up. But as the main course is cleared away, you can sense the questions they’re itching to ask.

Your mother finally breaks. “So, Max, how long have you been driving?”

Max looks momentarily confused. “Uh, professionally? Since I was 17, I guess.”

Your father’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seventeen? Isn’t that a bit young to start with Uber?”

“Uber?” Max repeats, bewildered. “I don’t-”

You quickly interject, “Dad, Max doesn’t work for Uber.”

“Oh, my mistake,” your father says, looking embarrassed. “Lyft, then?”

Max turns to you, a mix of amusement and confusion on his face. “Schatje, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Before you can explain, your mother chimes in. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, dear. Driving for those apps is honest work. We’re just curious about what it’s like.”

Max opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. “Mom, Dad, I think I need to clarify something. When I said Max was a driver, I didn’t mean-”

The sound of the front door slamming interrupts you. Your younger brother, Tommy, comes barreling into the dining room, out of breath and wide-eyed.

“Sorry I’m late, I was at practice and-” He stops short, his jaw dropping as he spots Max. “Holy shit! You’re Max Verstappen!”

The room falls silent. Your parents look from Tommy to Max, then back to Tommy, confusion etched on their faces.

“Language, Tommy,” your mother scolds automatically, before adding, “Wait, what did you say?”

Tommy is practically vibrating with excitement. “That’s Max Verstappen! He’s not just any driver, he’s a Formula 1 World Champion!”

Your father turns to Max, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “Is this true?”

Max nods, looking slightly sheepish. “Yes, sir. I’m a Formula 1 driver for Red Bull Racing.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Your mother is the first to recover, letting out a nervous laugh. “Oh my, and here we were asking you about Uber! We must look so foolish.”

“Not at all,” Max assures her, his smile warm and genuine. “It’s actually quite refreshing. Most people I meet already know everything about me.”

Your father leans forward, his interest piqued. “So, Formula 1 ... that’s the racing with the really fast cars, right?”

Max nods, launching into an explanation of the sport. As he talks, you can see your parents becoming more and more fascinated. Tommy, meanwhile, is peppering Max with questions about his latest races and rival drivers.

“I can’t believe my sister is dating Max Verstappen,” Tommy says for the third time, shaking his head in disbelief.

You feel a blush creeping up your neck. “Tommy, please ...”

Max reaches under the table to squeeze your hand. “It’s alright, liefje. I’m just glad they know now. No more secrets, yeah?”

Your mother stands up suddenly. “Oh, goodness! I completely forgot about dessert. I’ll just go fetch it.”

As she hurries to the kitchen, your father clears his throat. “So, Max, I have to ask ... is it dangerous? All that racing, I mean.”

Max considers the question carefully. “There are, of course, risks. But the cars are incredibly safe these days, and we take every precaution possible.”

Your mother returns with a homemade apple pie, setting it down in the center of the table. “I hope you like pie, Max. It’s an old family recipe.”

“It looks delicious,” Max says sincerely. “Thank you for going to all this trouble.”

As your mother serves the pie, the conversation shifts to more casual topics. You find yourself relaxing, relieved that the truth is finally out and that your family seems to be taking it well.

“So, how did you two meet?” Your father asks, between bites of pie.

You and Max exchange a glance, both smiling at the memory. “It was at a charity event in London,” you begin.

Max jumps in, “She spilled her drink all over my shoes.”

“Max!” You exclaim, swatting his arm playfully. “I did not spill it, you bumped into me!”

He laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Maybe we bumped into each other. Either way, I’m glad it happened.”

Your mother sighs contentedly. “That’s so romantic. And now look at you two, so happy together.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Gross, Mom. Can we talk about racing again?”

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of laughter and conversation. As the night winds down, you find yourself in the kitchen with your mother, washing dishes while Max chats with your father and Tommy in the living room.

“He’s a lovely boy,” your mother says softly, handing you a plate to dry. “I can see why you like him so much.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry I wasn’t more upfront about his job. I just ... I wanted you to get to know him as a person first, you know?”

Your mother nods understandingly. “I get it, sweetheart. It must be hard, dating someone so famous. But from what I’ve seen tonight, he seems very down-to-earth.”

“He is,” you agree, glancing towards the living room where you can hear Max’s laughter mingling with your father’s. “He’s just Max to me.”

As you finish up in the kitchen, Max appears in the doorway. “Need any help?”

Your mother shoos him away. “Absolutely not, you’re our guest. Go relax.”

Max insists on helping anyway, drying the last few dishes as you and your mother put them away. The domesticity of the moment strikes you, and you find yourself imagining a future where scenes like this are commonplace.

Later, as you walk Max to his car, the cool night air nips at your skin. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“That went well, I think,” he says, a hint of relief in his voice.

You nod, leaning into him. “Better than I expected. Sorry about the Uber mix-up.”

Max laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Don’t be. It was kind of fun, actually. Your family is great, by the way.”

“They liked you too,” you assure him. “Even before they knew you were famous.”

He stops at his car, turning to face you. His eyes are soft in the moonlight as he cups your face in his hands. “That’s all that matters to me. That they like me for who I am, not what I do.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. “I love you, Max Verstappen, Uber driver extraordinaire.”

He grins against your lips. “And I love you, Y/N Y/L/N, girl who definitely did not spill her drink on my shoes.”

[fastandcarlos]

The Biggest Tease : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: you're all for supporting max's career, but isn't a sex ban just a step too far?

“Stop right there,” Max called out as soon as he watched you walk down the stairs. Your face told him everything, your plan of mischief etched upon your face, unable to hide it.

You took a seat beside him on the sofa, resting your hand against the top of his leg. With two weeks off, you thought you were finally going to get your boyfriend all to yourself, that was until the seeming third wheel in your relationship got involved. Brad.

“This is ridiculous,” you huffed as Max kept his eyes on you, refusing to acknowledge where your hand was trailing. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“It’s just part of the job of dating a world champion,” he tried his best to joke.

Max almost felt sorry for you as you looked helplessly at him, hoping that somehow, he’d try and bend the rules. Brad was determined to keep Max in peak physical condition during the small break, and although you knew his job meant a lot to Max, you were confident you could find a solution that kept you both happy.

You grabbed the pillow beside you, admitting defeat and holding it close to your body. Max kept his eye on you as you did so, desperately wanting to reach out and give you what you wanted. Was it worth the scolding that he’d get back at headquarters? Probably.

“Max,” you whined, scuffing your feet along the bedroom floor as you found him sat in his gaming chair a few hours later.

“Hi sweetheart,” he hummed, spinning his chair around as he paused his game.

You perched on the end of the bed, folding your arms across your chest with a pout on your face. Straight away Max tapped his lap, inviting you over. You didn’t need to be asked twice as you jumped over, feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist to keep you in position.

“Playing anything good?” You enquired as you studied his set up in front of you.

“Nothing you’d enjoy,” Max assured you, pressing a gentle kiss against your shoulder. “It’s unlike you to come and take an interest in what I’m playing anyway.”

Your shoulders shrugged as you leant further back against Max’s chest, shuffling in his lap as you made yourself comfortable. As you did so, a faint intake of breath came from behind you, your movement taking Max by surprise.

You slowly turned your bright eyes to meet Max’s, catching his bottom lip being bitten by his teeth. His head shook slowly at you, knowing full well what you were trying to do, as if to tell you that you didn’t even need to bother.

“It’s only a couple more days until race day,” Max tried his best to remind you, but you were beyond waiting any longer. You shifted your body so that your lips could reach his jawline, kissing against it gently.

You were all for supporting Max, encouraging him to the best driver he could be, but your patience had been tested to its limit.

“Babe,” Max sighed as you continued to capture his attention.

“What? I’m not doing anything,” you innocently defended, sniggering to yourself.

“I love you, but we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” You quizzed, pulling away from Max so you could see the expression on his face. You could read him like a book, as serious as he wanted to be, his eyes were pleading with you not to stop.

“Are you going to explain this to Brad?”

“You mean am I going to explain to Brad how annoyingly irresistible my boyfriend is? Absolutely,” you chuckled, pressing your hands against Max’s chest.

Max’s head tilted back as you moved one of your hands to brush through his hair, tugging gently at the knots that had formed throughout the day. He soon found himself losing all control, a habit of his whenever you were around.

Soon enough Max’s hands were resting on your waist, refusing to let you move away from him. A smile of satisfaction appeared on your face as you looked at him again, a knowing look on his face.

“I hate what you do to me,” he whispered, secretly loving the way you tried to push all of his buttons.

“Me? What did I do?” You questioned, shuffling slightly again. “All I wanted to do was come and see what you were up to.”

Max’s eyes rolled as you tried your best to play innocent with him. He pulled you closer towards him, his hot breath tickling just underneath your ear, “two weeks is a long time without sex, right?”

Your head nodded straight away as he whispered, as much as you wanted to try and convince Max that you had full control around him, you didn’t. You were losing your mind; Max was so close and yet so far away.

Max’s hand trailed underneath the shirt that you were wearing, fingertips brushing against your skin. “I’m sorry I ever made you wait for me,” he hummed.

“I can support the diets, the exercise, and even the sleepless nights of different time zones, but sex is wear I draw the line,” you chuckled, hearing Max’s giggles mix in with your own. “Does Brad not realise what an irresistible man you are?”

Max’s eyes rolled as you continued to laugh away to yourself, “maybe you should tell him all about it at the next team briefing?”

“Does this mean that the ban is over?” You asked, a wave of relief washing over you as Max’s head nodded in reply to you.

The look on your face reminded Max exactly why he found it so difficult to control himself around you in the first place, especially after ten days of trying his best to distance himself.

“Brad will forgive me…I’m a desperate man,” Max laughed as he stood up from his chair, holding you tightly in his arms as he headed for your bed.

“Trust me, you’re not the only one whose desperate.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[tojipie]

mma fighter toji? (im so happy tk see that you’re back btw ❤️)

i really do think this is the best ask i’ve ever gotten pls feel proud of ur brain before u go to bed tonight bc ily. wrote this on the verge of falling asleep if u see any spelling error no u did not.

mma fighter!toji x reader | 1k words

content: violence, injury, blood, reader objectified by stranger

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“you got it, you got—don’t fucking look at her, look at me fushiguro!” your boyfriend’s manager yells, holding a bucket to the younger man’s heaving chest with a sigh.

toji nods at the command, taking a swig of water and spitting into the vessel before wiping his mouth with an ungloved hand. fighters never drank in the ring, it’d only settle heavy in your stomach. make you easier to catch.

blood and saliva drip down his chin and onto the floor of the ring, bright red patters against black mesh.

you watch the veins in toji’s neck pulse underneath sweaty skin, decorated with swirls of black and grey ink. his tattoos extend down his chest and back, working to cover the mess of purple and blue bruises across his body.

on his rib lies a scrawl of your name, etched into his skin for millions to see every time he stepped into the ring.

the raven haired man says something unintelligible to his team before smacking his temple with his glove, almost as if he was trying to knock something back into place.

you cringe at the thought of a brain injury so early into his career. you’d heard stories before, world class fighters reduced to shells of themselves. shot memories, seizures, even paralysis. you try not to think too deeply about it.

the TV screens in front of you pan to across the ring to his opponent. ryomen sukuna, 2 years into his career with every title under the sun.

everything except heavyweight champion. the name belonging to the winner of this very match.

sukuna was terrifying, completely unfazed by the rivets of blood pouring from his temple and left nostril. you’d quite literally watched him pop his nose back into place during the first break after your boyfriend had dealt a serious blow to it. to say this man scared you was an understatement.

toji notices your anxiety, leaning against the mesh wall of the ring to look down at you in the front row.

“you watchin’?” he yells with a grin, barely coherent over the mixed sounds of cheers and boos.

you smile, though your boyfriend scowls at the onslaught of paparazzi trying to capture the tender moment. he spits at the see-through wall of the ring to serve as an unspoken “fuck you.” cheers ring out from the sidelines as the screens capture the interaction.

toji turns to you and pushes off of the mesh wall, throwing his hands out with a “tsk” and a shake of his head.

“you worried about me baby?” he teases, fully aware that the cameras are still on him. “you don’t gotta worry about me, right?.”

you laugh, motioning for security to shoo any onlookers off. the mix of adrenaline and attention was clearly getting to him, though you loved when he got cocky like this. he always fucked you hardest after a big win.

the two men settle back into the middle of the ring, the referee separating them with an stern arm. sukuna looks down at you with an unreadable expression, pinning you to your seat with just a glance. toji’s pink-haired opponent turns back to him with a sinister grin, taking out his mouthguard to speak clearly. you only manage to make out the end of his insult, blood running cold as his words register.

“..and after they give me that title? i might fuck that little girlfriend of yours, fushiguro.”

toji says nothing, expression blank. you begin to wonder if he even heard the other man, but the buzz signifying round 3 pulls you out of your thoughts. you brace for whatever may come next.

sukuna is a brick wall, but toji’s light on his feet, weaving in and out of punches with his gloves guarding his face.

he’s faster than usual, spurred on by adrenaline and anger.

he lands a kick to sukuna’s ribs, the sickening crunch reaching the front row right on impact. definitely two, maybe even three broke ribs you hear a fan spectate.

his opponent curses, landing two punches to his chest before knocking toji to the ground, just barely missing the raven haired man with a solid blow right as he springs upwards.

“you gonna fuck her?” toji scoffs, landing another kick to sukuna’s injured ribs. you can barely make out their conversation even with a front row seat, you doubt anyone in the stands has been able to understand them this whole time.

the pink-haired man winces on impact, his first show of weakness since the beginning of the match.

“huh? tell me.” your boyfriend muses, dodging a kick and throwing sukuna to the floor. cheers ring out in the stadium at the direct show of brutality, you cover your mouth in anticipation.

toji settles his body weight on the man below him, twisting his arm as far as it will go while keeping his face to the floor. his legs wrap around and under the second man, squeezing his injured ribs like a vice with his thighs.

sukuna lands a blow with his free arm, then another, then another. toji does nothing, holding his opponent down with a smile almost too wide, too sinister.

“fuck.. fuck!” sukuna yells, struggling under the weight of the man above him.

the crowd is in hysterics, the announcers are out of their seats. “an unprecedented burst of energy,” you hear them call it. nothing like they’d ever seen before during any of toji’s matches.

you have to fight off the ego boost it gives you, knowing he’s only fighting this hard for you. because another man dared to speak on your name in his presence.

toji takes a couple more punches with that same smile, finally grabbing his opponent’s free arm to render the other man motionless.

you stagger out of your seat, running into the isle to get a better view of the ring.

the referee crouches by the two men, waiting to call the match. sukuna shares a look with third man, groaning before tapping toji’s wrist three times.

the crowd is animalistic. screams, wails, jeers, all of it meshes together within seconds.

toji’s security forms a circle around you, leading you towards the ring as fans flood the isles in celebration.

that was it, he’d won the title. Fushiguro Toji, heavyweight champion.

sukuna is led out of the ring by his team, choosing to forego any post-match interviews. he doesn’t dare look at you as he passes you on the steps, humiliated beyond belief.

calls of your name echo out from the center of the ring, your boyfriend pushing past paparazzi to scoop you into his arms.

the heat from his torso melts into yours as he clutches you to his body. he’s sweaty, practically bleeding from every direction too. but he’s smiling.

it’s not the smile he puts on for press, a quick flash of perfect teeth to keep the morale light, keep his sponsors happy. not the sinister smile he flaunts during matches either, fueled by bloodlust and pure adrenaline.

not even the cocky smile he puts on for the crowd when the match gets tough, the one that gets his opponents mad, gets the crowd hit and bothered.

this smile is soft, private. a small show of love in a sea of flashing cameras and prying eyes. this smile says “i love you, I do this for you.”

you reach for his face, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. toji wipes the blood—his— from your lips with a calloused thumb, pulling your head to his chest with a soft murmur.

“i love you.”

[c0kitty]

NOW PLAYING ... STAY THE NIGHT ft. fwb!abby anderson x f!reader

(⭑) content: wc 600+ hc. modern au. fwb!abby. smut-ish. cursing. dickhead!abby. soccer player!abby. both in uni.

READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

(⭑) ── soccer player!abby who you disliked with a passion. it wasn’t for no reason. abby’s constant air of arrogance, her playboy-mentality with women, and her ability to have everyone at her will — just being the school’s soccer champion, didn’t sit well with you. 

so, it was your surprise when you ended up in her freaking bed later that week.  

you don't entirely remember how it happened, but one moment you were at ellie’s party, doing an intense shot-game with abby, and the next — you both were severely drunk in ellie’s bathroom, cornered, with you on the counter, and abby’s lips on yours.

you remembered small fragments of the night: abby’s lips being so soft, and tongue tasting like a mixture of vodka and grapefruit. your legs being propped around abby’s hips.

abby’s rough hands, slipping through your unbutton jean’s and into your soaked panties. 

her voice, low and soothing in your ear, “c'mon let me hear you, princess.”

it was different from her usual rough tone with you; and the worst part is you liked it. liked her praising you, whispering sweet-nothings.

(⭑) ── soccer player!abby, who fucks you out. the night after was a bit of a whiplash for you. your lips kiss-swollen, dark hickies splayed on your neck, and you were wearing abby’s jersey

abby’s arm was wrapped at your hips, holded tight like she would die before letting you go. her body half-naked only in boxers.

and for some reason having seeing abby like that, stirred so many emotions. to desire, warmth, comfort.

(⭑) ── soccer player!abby, who you can’t sleep with again — you couldn’t be like those girls she’d fuck and get bored with after they’d caught feelings.

so, you leave without a word. but, soon after, you guys would see each other in class, eye’s drawn to each other.

…and it more or less happens again, rushed in a random janitor’s closet, again in abby’s freakishly-clean room, and again, in abby’s truck, her hands pushing your shaky legs apart, two fingers curling at your g-spot.

(⭑) ── fwb!abby, who is obsessed with you, always has been. she liked how you were always head on with her stubbornness, she loved how confident, smart, pretty, especially in those mini-skirts you always wear.

and, even though abby did love etching a reaction out of you, she wanted something more; beyond the snarky exchanges you guys had.

so with this arrangement you guys had goin’ on — all it did was fuel that even more.

to your pretty little moans to her ears, your strawberry glossed-lips, and how you chanted her name reaching your high.

she didn’t want anybody else to have this — have you.

(⭑) ── fwb!abby, who you continue with this fwb thing for two-months. it was at first to you, a way to release pent-up frustration with school and life, plus the sex was good. but after a while

… you wouldn’t just immediately leave after you guys fucked, sometimes you and abby would actually have civil conversations, joke around, watch movies in bed, cuddle.

it was all starting to seem … coupley. and it scared you how much you didn’t mind it.

not minding when she arrived after-practice sweaty, at your doorstep, showering you with kisses, not minding her head on your lap as she slept snoring softly, and not minding staying up late, embarrassingly-waiting for abby to respond to your texts.

it’s not entirely glitz and glamor. you guys would still argue, more so about stupid shit. 

like who’s gonna get the remote that’s on the floor, which results into a big disagreement.

(⭑) ── yet as the weeks passed, the arguments seemed to dwindle and sometimes, abby would apologize, with your favorite food in hand.

it's very unfinished but yay i posted! 😭

[bunnys-kisses]

Hey lovely, can I please have a butter tart with a coffee and whatever's on the house served by Lestappen?🤍

bakery menu

please request your own! there's ton of items on the menu for you to pick! (with more coming in the near future!!). *quiet voice* thank you lovely anon. basically i wanted to do a lestappen & reader three-way rivalry that would make me lose it. this order is on the house for doing me a solid, please come back another time and order again!

butter tart ("let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.") + coffee (rivals au) + on the house (aftercare) served by max verstappen & charles leclerc (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, lestappen, threesome, rivals au, dirty talk, aftercare, teasing, hot stuff (!!), various sexual acts mentioned

the sun, the moon and the stars.

the trio that ended formula one the same time. from three different parts of the world, three different past experiences and histories, but all with the same goal.

you all wanted to win. simple as that.

on camera, it felt like the three of you were in a league of your own. to settle scores that were etched into your psyche during your karting youth. max would get a little too close to charles, charles would make a snide comment before the final race, and you'd vague post about them online.

all to fuel this insatiable hunger that the media had to watch the three of you tear each other apart. a rivalry between the three celestial bodies that would tear the universe (or this case, formula one apart).

the rumours followed the three of you since you became in each other's orbit. over the past few years more images have resurfaced that only added to the "conspiracy" of your secret relationship. it was honestly quite fun to watch.

"someone tried to create a timeline in tiktok." charles shook his phone at you and max. you were both honestly impressed by how much the internet could cobble together.

a personal favourite photo of yours was a poorly saturated photo of charles and max at a club together. they both looked painfully drunk in the seats they were in. while that itself wasn't striking, what made it a favourite was that their faces were covered in kiss marks. all the way to the collar of their shirt.

this was often paired online with a few photos of you wearing the same shade of lipstick to events around the same time. it was a rich plum colour from what you remembered and you remembered that the marks didn't end at the collar of their shirts.

you had a bruise the size of a golf ball when you and charles ended up in a cramped bathroom stall.

you were thankful that some of the photos were lost to time. or rather an old hard drive on a laptop you kept buried in your apartment for fear of people finding the photos and videos. you didn't even trust a hammer to get rid of the evidence.

there was one file that was on your current phone however, that you painstakingly transferred. it was a video, you three at around twenty four, right after max's first champion win.

charles was between his legs, his mouth on max's cock while you standing beside them, filming the sexual scene while max's fingers were stuffed in your pussy. and that was one of the more tamer ones.

however, well into your racing careers. the rivalry still went strong. and sometimes, after a race. it all boiled over.

your teammate, george looked at you as he caught you leaving your hotel room. a small knapsack was filled to the brim with stuff. he sighed, "not this again. what, you're going to catch an uber and go see them?"

the relationship between you and the two other men was the worse open kept secret. you shrugged, "it's the dutch grand prix and max didn't completely fuck it up, you know how it goes."

not fucking it up meant that max won. but you couldn't give him the benefit of knowing that you lost. so, max just did well.

george replied, "just be smart... be safe, i guess. i don't know. i don't want drama because you three couldn't get along or be safe."

you replied with your best press smile, "aw, c'mon russell! the three of us are always at the center of drama. you're not new to this." he watched you turn away and head to the elevators.

at the hotel occupied by ferrari and red bull, you ended up at max's room. you bounced on your feet for a moment as you knocked. then waited for him to open the door. you then tapped your foot and almost called something before the door opened and max pulled you into the room.

he pushed you up against the back of the door once he was shut. he grabbed you by the face and pulled you into a searing kiss. you sometimes forgot how big his hands were until you had become painfully aware.

"where's charlie?" you asked when max pulled away from the kiss. you held onto his wrist for a moment.

"i want you to guess where he is." max replied.

"the fan girls swarming him."

"he was getting us some wine too." max made a face.

you replied, "well, i guess we can start without him." then started to strip when max let go of you. the two of you got naked quickly and onto the massive bed. max's hands were allover your naked body, the blankets provided some comfort against the air conditioned room.

you felt like you knew max's body as well as your own. you had touched it in so many ways over the years. you pressed yourself up against him and kissed him gently.

it really was the moon and the stars right now. but, they wouldn't be alone forever as a knock at the hotel room door pulled you away from one another. max got out of bed and answered the door.

"hey ma- why are you naked?" charles voice could be heard before he steeped in. he was pulled in by max. you moved a little bit to see through the doorway to the main room where the men were.

charles was holding a bottle of wine and smiled when he saw you. he said, "are you starting without me?" then turned to max, "you sent me out for wine so you could have first pick, right?"

"i would never! she just doesn't have the dedicated fan base you have." then headed back to the bedroom. charles followed closely behind him and was stripping his clothes. his shirt ended up with max's on the couch and his jeans were draped over some chair.

you got out from under the covers and charles almost choked on air at the sight of your naked body. not because it was horrible, but because it was just as beautiful as ever.

the sexual history between the three of you was a messy web. it felt like anyone who tried to get with one of you always failed. because if one of you tried to step out, the string that kept you tethered to one another always brought you back.

the two men got into bed with you and started to kiss at you warm skin. you felt a shudder run through you at the feeling of their lips on your skin.

"you fuckin' freaks." you purred as you giggled at the touches. you felt goosebumps across your skin as you rubbed your thighs together.

"ah what, are you mad that you came in sixth today?"

you looked over your shoulder at charles and said, "i should've ran you off the track, mister third."

max pulled your attention to him and said, "and what about me?" he chuckled as he held you jaw.

you held onto the other's shoulders and said, "ugh, i was hoping that something would come flying off. halfway through the race."

the men pressed against you even harder, their touches were getting harder. charles said, "i can't believe she said that about us. after everything we've done for her."

"i know. so ungrateful."

charles pulled your head back and pulled you in for a hot kiss. you felt both their erections up against your back which made you whine softly.

max chuckled, "i'm curious about what colours she'll end up wearing. when she is cheering from the sidelines."

you shuddered, "shut up, both of you. i'm not changing my last name and i'm sure as hell not marrying either of you." you tried to squirm out of their grasps.

but it only tightened and both men looked at each other. they could barely compose themselves and both of them started to howl in laughter, like you said the highlight of a comedy show.

"we're serious." charles said, low in your ear.

max chuckled lowly, "she'd be too stubborn, even if one of us got her pregnant, she'd give that kid her last name."

you looked at max, "yeah, exactly." and tensed up when max's finger dragged across your achy slit.

"verstappen is always available." max then pulled you in for another searing kiss and charles' voice was in your ear, the combination made your core throb. you hated how they knew all your weaknesses.

"i was thinking leclerc. i mean we'd still have this little arrangement. but i'm thinking a nice wedding in monaco, the whole thing. your team, my team, your family, my family. max."

he pulled away and said, "thanks." his tone was flat.

"no problem." he smiled at his rival before he went back to you and added, "i think it would be a lovely wedding. i think leclerc seems less... harsh than verstappen."

max rested his chin on your shoulder to look at charles, "to be good on the grid, you need a strong name." their eyes met and charles went in to kiss the other man.

you were perfectly sandwiched between them as they kissed. when they parted charles said, "don't worry, max. you can have my last name too."

you tapped your chin for a moment and said, "lovely offers you two, but i think i'm just going to stick with the last name i've had for my entire life. i don't need either of you to boost my legacy."

"right, right. it's not like you're going to marry anyone else outside of this." max said.

"oh yeah, most likely. i think we've entered the let's ruin ourselves for anyone else territory."

charles kissed the side of your neck, "don't say it like it's a bad thing."

you looked over your shoulder at him and raised your eyebrows, "i would like a husband at some point."

"then marry me." both men said in unison.

eventually the three of you got into position. your face buried in charles' lap while on your elbows and knees with max behind you. you looked up at charles who had his hand in your hair.

"you look good like this."

"next time." you said, "you're eating me out." your voice was pointed as if you weren't practically salivating at the chance to suck him off.

"there's no higher honour." he said as he held the back of your head before you started to kiss at his cock.

both men were impressive in size, not too crazy. nothing that would painfully scare someone or leave you with internal bruising.

"ready for me?" max asked.

you nodded as you continued to kiss at charles' cock. your hands on either side of his waist for leverage as you really sank your mouth down on it. you did arch your back and moan when max pushed his cock inside of you.

"neuken."

charles chuckled, he's heard that more than a few times in his life. with his hands tangled in your hair, he looked to the other man and said, "she still feels amazing."

"afraid you have competition, charles?" max replied, as if you hadn't spent time watching the two of them go after one another in the bedroom from time to time.

he made a face before he looked down to you and started to gently roll his hips. you knew exactly how to make these men squirm as you eagerly pleasured them.

max's thrusts were strong, but not fast. he was savouring his time inside of you. the tight heat of your pussy that he only found himself craving more as time went on.

you knew if the press even got a whiff of this, it would be such a media circus that you were certain that one of you would kill a reporter. that was why you still had that laptop, because the fear of the files being restored somehow even after a good wipe of the hard drive, was very real.

there were nudes of you, of max and of charles, sometimes all three of you together. there was one when the three of you were in amsterdam where it was you smoking a cigarette, presumably after sex and max was fast asleep and you were using his back to hold the hotel ashtray.

you knew there was a video of max waking charles up by putting his pussy slick covered fingers (thanks to you) in front of the man's face and whistling to him like a dog. the funny part was that it worked.

it would be a treasure trove of debauchery if anyone got their hands on it. the three of you were stupid little sex freaks, in a way you still were. except now with heftier pay checks and nice homes in expensive real estate.

you closed your eyes and let yourself just be fucked by the other two men. they were never truly mean. no slapping or hair pulling, and certainly no bruising.

you and max spent a whole season in the rumours section of gossip rags because of the amount of hickies that were seen on your neck. max even went as far as to leave one on the inner part of your wrist. charles thought that fiasco was funny, mostly because he wasn't in it.

"you feel so good." charles groaned.

max wrapped both of his strong arms around you and leaned over you, pressing you further into the bed. he rutted against you and kissed the back of you neck while you throat was full of charles' cock.

"she feels so fucking good." max said, "i think we've really lucked out. as good in the bedroom as she is on the grid."

charles chuckled, "if she was that good on the grid, she would've easily passed you today."

max kissed the side of your neck and shoved his cock as deep as it could go, "true, true." he kissed the side of your face,

the three of you moved together. the sounds of sex filled the hotel room, you had felt over the years since this started you have become more mature in your sexual proclivities. it wasn't a quick, messy fuck in some hall closet or a blow job in a car in an empty parking lot.

you three could take the time with each other. the three of you panted, moaned and groaned. you were wrapped up in the hot euphoria of sex.

the three of you were interlinked in ways that couldn't be fully explained. while it made for titillating headlines, there was a deeper under current of your relationship.

while most feuds between the two of you would be solved either through conversation or the heated moments of sex. there was a need for the three of you to push to your absolute limit.

while there were seventeen other drivers on the track, and you did have your feuds with them. you were tied to charles and max just as they were tied to you and each other.

a perfect triangle. in a strange reality where two of you were on the same team, it would be a clean sweep for the team. it was good that the three of you were on three different teams.

in all fairness, george, sergio and lewis probably would prefer the three of you somehow were on the same team. at least it would contain the bitching. (you knew they had their own group chat to figure out what the hell was going on between the three of you)

but it was hard to bitch when the three of you were in the bedroom.

both men were starting to lose steam, in all fairness, so were you. you could feel the head rush as you continued to charles' cock with max's cock hitting against your sensitive areas. you gripped the bed under you and kept it together long enough to orgasm.

charles was the first to finish, that was usually what happened. he ran so hot when he had sex that it clouded his mind and he easily finished down your throat, almost coming a second time when he saw how easily you swallowed it all up. he slumped against the headboard of the bed watched max continue to fuck you.

you were the second to cum, you gripped onto the bed wit your nose up in charles' pubic hair as you panted heavily. it was a throb in your body only made worse by max's persistent thrusting.

max watched both of his partners of a sexual bliss and continued to rut against you. he had been holding himself off to make sure that you two finished before he did. that was sort of what he did. but the sight of both of you was enough to send him over the end. and he finished inside of you with a last hard thrust.

"holy fuck." he panted as he felt the fight leave his body.

you felt a bit of your jaw ache as you laid there with your head on charles' thigh. max pulled out and got comfortable beside the other man.

charles play with your hair and said, "i think she's been spoiled."

max chuckled, "i think she's spoiled us. that was her plan all along."

you cracked an eye open at max before you leaned over to kiss him. right before you did, you said, "yeah max. it's been my evil plan for almost ten years."

max kissed you and charles' continued to play with your hair. the sun, the moon and the stars. the three celestial bodies of formula one. curled up in bed together.

-

both men laid in bed and shared a smoke while you cleaned yourself up. you always ran so painfully hot. while you got your hair out of your eyes after you dried it, you noticed that max's red bull shirt and charles' ferrari shirt were both left over the couch.

you heard both men talking in french, with the occasional sound of kissing. but your focus were on the shirts on the couch. a thought crossed your mind and you picked up your phone from the sink counter and snapped a picture.

you stared down at your phone for a moment. you should've probably pondered your options a little more before you uploaded the photo to your instagram story. "a stallion and a bull. yeah right." with a rolling eyes emoji. you posted it to your story then put your phone on silence before you headed back to the bedroom.

the fallout from that would be tomorrow's problem. <3

[taurasiluvr]

can i request cait having a tough and scoreless first half so her gf finds her at halftime to give her quick head

HELLO ABSOLUTELY YES

the first half had been brutal for caitlin, she hadn't managed to make a single bucket. you could see the tension in her every movement, the frustration etched on her face as she walked off the field at halftime. you knew she needed a boost, something to reset her focus and confidence.

you watched as she made her way to the locker-room, you weaved your way through the crowd and followed suit. as soon as you saw her alone in the locker room, you made your move. "cait," you called softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

she looked up, surprise and relief flashing in her eyes. "oh hey," she said, her voice weary.

you didn’t waste any time. "i know it’s been tough out there," you whispered, moving closer and wrapping your arms around her waist. "cut i’ve got a little something to help you out."

caitlin raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "yeah? what do you have in mind, baby?"

you dropped to your knees in front of her, your hands already working on the waistband of her shorts. "think of it as a good luck charm," you said with a smirk.

you looked up at her through your lashes and she let out a low groan, her hands finding their way into your hair as you freed her from the confines of her shorts. "fuck, so pretty," cait whispered as she gazed down at you.

you ran a finger down her folds before leaning in and pressing your tongue against her, earning another groan from the girl above you. you savored the taste of her, your tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes as you felt her body respond.

caitlin's grip on your hair tightened, her breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps as she pushed you deeper into her as you let out a moan of your own.

"fuck, just like that," she murmured, her voice filled with need. "always know how to make me feel so good, princess."

you hummed in response, the vibration eliciting a sharp intake of breath from her. you focused on her clit, circling it with your tongue, then sucking gently, making her hips buck against your face.

"fuck, yes," caitlin moaned, her legs trembling. "so perfect, baby. so perfect."

her praise spurred you on, your movements becoming more urgent. you slid a finger inside her, curling it to hit that spot that you knew would drive her wild. her reaction was immediate, her body tensing as she let out a loud moan.

"don't fucking stop, gonna cum all over your pretty face." she panted, her fingers gripping your hair even tighter.

you had no intention of stopping. you added a second finger, increasing the pace as your tongue continued its relentless assault on her clit. you could feel her tightening around your fingers, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

with a final groan, caitlin came hard, her body shaking as she rode out her orgasm.

you pulled back slowly, looking up at her with a satisfied smile as you wiped your mouth. "feeling better?"

she let out a shaky laugh, pulling you up into a searing kiss. "so much better," she murmured against your lips. "don't know what I’d do without you."

"go out there and score some shots," you said with a wink, giving her a playful smack on the butt. "show them what you’re made of."

caitlin grinned, her confidence visibly restored. "oh, i will. just for you, baby."

you watched as she headed back out to the field, feeling a sense of pride and love swell in your chest. she was your champion, and you knew she’d give it her all in the second half.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[rebelliousneferut]

long-distance misunderstandings | jude bellingham x verstappen!reader

summary; a compromising photo that poses a threat to your relationship with jude

genre; angst, fluff

face claim; annie schröter

note; english is not my first language.

as soon as i saw the photo i knew i had to write something about it

masterlist!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

wagsgossips

liked by y/nverstappen, yourbestfriend, footballwags and others

wagsgossips the 21 y/o real madrid star was seen last night in california in the company of his england teammate trent alexander arnold. but it was not that that caught our attention, but his closeness with a girl whose identity we still do not know.

jude bellingham has been in a romantic relationship with y/n verstappen, the younger sister of the triple world champion in formula 1.

are there problems in paradise? follow me so you don't miss any news

view comments

y/njudefans you are creating drama where there is none. it is a simple photo and we don't know the context behind it.

username he is a footballer, that already makes him a cheater

username i agree

vertappenssource was max's warning not clear enough?

username i saw it coming, she deserves better

username poor y/n:( i always thought she looked more in love than him

username for god's sake, stop assuming things and creating meaningless gossip

sunshine streamed through the window of our shared madrid apartment, casting a warm glow on everything it touched. except me. my phone, usually buzzing with life, lay silent on the coffee table. the cheerful chirping of birds outside mocked the turmoil brewing within me. a single picture, a single stolen moment, had shattered my world.

jude was in california for a commercial shoot. missing him terribly, i was holding down the fort back in madrid. social media, my usual source of joy, had become a minefield. a gossip page had exploded with a photo: jude, seemingly handsy with a random girl at a party. the caption screamed betrayal. my phone had become a vessel of concern, overflowing with messages from worried friends and fans.

"he wouldn't do that," i whispered, denial laced with a sliver of doubt. i knew Jude. i knew his loyalty, his unwavering love and i knew how harmful the networks could be. yet, the photo gnawed at me, a seed of suspicion taking root.

i decided to take my phone, just because i knew how worried my brother would be until now and i had to talk to him. and almost as if he read my mind, a video call from him came in

"hello liefje," he muttered, almost as if he was expecting me to explode at any moment. "i know how things may look right now, talk to jude before you do anything rash, you know how the media is."

"I know, it just took me by surprise. and I'm not going to lie, it hurt me a little but i know there is an explanation behind it." i told him, even though it wasn't a compromising photo, seeing him so close to another woman had made me think.

"in any case, let me know and i'll go beat him up." max answered me, pretending to hit his fists which made me genuinely laugh.

after talking to max for a while i felt calmer, but i still knew that i had to talk to jude, who i had not responded to for hours because i knew that my feelings were going to betray me.

days bled into one another. calls from jude went unanswered, my voicemails a silent plea for explanation. the silence stretched, a suffocating weight on my chest. i retreated into myself, a fortress of hurt and confusion.

then, the door creaked open, shattering the suffocating silence. jude, his face etched with worry, rushed in, his arms outstretched for me. i flinched, the photo flashing in my mind.

"where have you been?" he sighed, relief washing over his features. "why haven't you been answering my calls?"

his voice, laced with concern, chipped away at the walls i'd built. tears welled up in my eyes, a torrent threatening to burst. i thrust my phone at him, the photo accusingly displayed on the screen.

jude's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at the picture. understanding dawned, followed by a wave of frustration.

"baby, i know what this looks like, but she was there for a photo. the media just took everything out of context, i would never be able to lie to you, you know." shame colored my cheeks.

"i should have called you," he admitted, his voice laced with regret.

i reached out, taking his hand in mines. "i should have trusted you," i whispered, the words heavy with unspoken hurt.

the silence that followed wasn't suffocating anymore. it was filled with the promise of a new beginning. we spent the night talking, clearing the air, the misunderstanding dissolving in the warmth of shared apologies and renewed trust.

the next morning, i woke up to the gentle sunlight and the feeling of jude's arm wrapped around me. he pulled me closer, his lips brushing against my ear.

"maybe next time, we travel together," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

i smiled, a genuine one this time. "no more long-distance misunderstandings," i agreed, snuggling closer.

the internet storm eventually subsided, replaced by messages of support and well-wishes. our love story, a little richer for having weathered a storm, continued, a testament to the power of communication and trust.

judebellingham uploaded to their story;

[caption; my one and only]

[pickingupmymercedes]

Whispered fairytale - Lewis Hamilton

request: "hi can i have a request about moments of fluff when reader's pregnant? with lewis of course <3" - anon

pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: fluff, like a lot of it

wordcount: +2K

a/n: I am not sorry for the sighs I was letting out as I was writting this. You guys have been warned, it's dad Lewis after all.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Monaco shimmered beneath the fading sunlight, a familiar scenery for Lewis and Y/N. This time, however, the champagne flowed with a bittersweet undercurrent as nestled in a drawer, a positive pregnancy test hummed with a quiet revolution. No elaborate pronouncements, just a single pink line etching a new chapter onto their shared story.

Their path to parenthood hadn't been meticulously expected. Discussions about starting a family had danced between them, unspoken agreements carried on the wind of their non-stop lives. Lewis, now an eight-time champion, a feat achieved under the scarlet banner of Ferrari, still felt the fire to chase another title. Yet, amidst the celebrations at the end of season, a quiet voice whispered that perhaps, the timing might have been just right.

As the celebratory roar began to fade, replaced by the clinking of abandoned champagne flutes, Lewis found himself gazing at Y/N, her smile hesitant yet imbued with a radiant joy, although the reason behind it hadn’t been revealed.

Their planned racetrack of a future had morphed into a sprawling unknown, but as Y/N's hand met his, a quiet certainty bloomed within him. This unplanned detour wasn't a wrong turn. It was a victory lap of a different kind, perhaps the starting grid for their greatest adventure.

A Dream

Sunlight speared through the sliver of uncovered window, painting a warm stripe across Lewis's features. Y/N stirred beside him, the weight of sleep clinging to her eyelids. Disoriented for a moment, she blinked, the room slowly coming into focus. Lewis, sprawled on the plush white chaise lounge next to his driver’s room sofa, was the first thing that registered.

Except, he wasn't really by himself, not mentally anyway.

His gaze was fixed on a spot above her stomach, a soft, almost reverent smile playing on his lips. He spoke, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down Y/N's spine.

"Alright, little one," he was saying, "I know you can't hear me yet, but listen up. This whole thing...it's a bit overwhelming, you know?" He chuckled, a nervous sound that tugged at Y/N's heart. "Honestly, I don't have a clue what I'm doing. But your mama here," he glanced at Y/N, his eyes warm, "she's a trooper. We'll figure it out, together. As a team."

The sight of Lewis, ever the composed champion, confessing his anxieties about fatherhood sent a wave of tenderness over Y/N. Carefully, she reached out, her fingertips brushing against the dark braids of his hair.

"Lewis," she croaked, her voice thick with sleep.

He turned, his smile widening as he met her gaze. "Hey there, beautiful.”

"Just getting to know the newest member of the team," he continued, his eyes flickering back to her stomach. "We were having a little chat."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, a soft sound that echoed in the quiet room. "It can’t really hear you" she said, her smile fading slightly. "It's still early days, remember?"

Lewis's smile softened. He reached out, his hand hovering just above her stomach. "I know," he said, his voice gentle. "But that doesn't mean I can't try, does it?"

Lewis, ever the believer in manifestation, ever the optimist. She scooted closer, making room for him on the sofa. He settled beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"How was your nap?" he asked, his lips brushing against her temple.

"Good," she mumbled, nuzzling closer to him. "But you woke me up with your…pep talk."

"Just some heart-to-heart, you know?!" he said with a wink. "With the little one, of course."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but a smile tugged at her lips. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind. The surprise of the positive test, the initial shock, the overwhelming joy – it had all been a blur. Lewis, ever the supportive partner, had taken it all in stride. Sure, there were moments of worry, of panicked glances exchanged in stolen moments, but mostly, there was a quiet excitement that simmered between the couple.

Out of the blue, as it tended to be, a loud growl echoed in the quiet room. She winced, covering her eyes in shame. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, his voice laced with concern. "This little one needs some food, right?"

Y/N nodded, the growling easing down "Yeah," she mumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Sorry, I..."

"Don't apologize," he said firmly. "This is all part of the journey. We're in this together."

His words held a quiet strength, a comforting confidence that calmed the churning in her stomach. It was more than just constantly being hungry; it was a reminder of the tiny miracle growing inside her.

They lay in silence for a moment, the only sound the rhythmic rise and fall of their breathing. Outside, the world buzzed with activity, the roar of the racetrack a distant rumble. But here, in this quiet haven, a different kind of race was about to begin – a race against time, against uncertainty, but most importantly, a race towards a future filled with the promise of a tiny miracle. And that little one, even though they were still just a whisper of a dream, was already so loved. More than Y/N could ever imagine.

Your scent

The crisp scent of Lewis's signature cologne, a heady mix of citrus and spice, usually sent a wave of warmth through Y/N. Today, however, it was the trigger for a rebellion in her stomach. A wave of nausea crashed over her, sending her scrambling out of bed towards the bathroom.

Lewis, stirred by the commotion, sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep. "Y/N? You alright?" he called out, concern etching lines on his forehead.

Y/N emerged from the bathroom, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah," she mumbled, her voice weak. "Just a little…" she trailed off, the metallic tang of bile rising in her throat.

Lewis was by her side in an instant, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Morning sickness again?" he asked gently.

Y/N shook her head, forcing a weak smile. "Second trimester was supposed to be smooth sailing, they said" Her voice held a hint of sarcasm, even to her own ears.

Lewis chuckled softly. "Maybe smooth sailing is a bit optimistic," he admitted. "But hey, at least you're keeping food down" Y/N grimaced. That particular phase had been brutal. She rinsed her mouth in the sink, the minty freshness a welcome relief.

"Actually," she started hesitantly, Lewis's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Y/N hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Your cologne," she began, gesturing vaguely towards the bottle on the dresser "it's making me sick."

The surprise on Lewis's face was comical. He stared at the bottle, then back at Y/N, as if trying to process the information. This was the cologne he'd worn for years, his signature scent. It was practically an extension of him.

"My cologne?" he finally managed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "But it's…" he trailed off, searching for the right words. "It's me, Y/N. You love me, right?"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. "Of course, I love you, silly," she said, reaching out to cup his face. "But right now, your child doesn’t really enjoy your 'you-ness'”

A slow grin spread across his face. "Alright, then” he declared, picking up the cologne bottle. "Operation: Find a pregnancy-safe scent it is."

Y/N watched, a smile playing on her lips, as Lewis rummaged through his extensive collection of grooming products. "How about this one?" Lewis asked, holding up a small, unassuming bottle with a label that read "Lavender Serenity."

Y/N wrinkled her nose playfully. "A bit too…serene for you, wouldn't you say?"

Lewis chuckled, tossing the bottle back onto the dresser. "Maybe. But hey, at least it won't make you puke."

Whoever they are

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/N's mother hoisted a heavy bag of groceries onto the kitchen counter. Lewis's dad, Anthony, hovered beside her, peering inside with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Alright" Anthony announced, brandishing a head of cabbage, "let's settle this once and for all. Boy or girl?"

Y/N chuckled, her belly, now a prominent dome beneath her maternity clothes, bouncing with laughter. "Lewis and I have already agreed, no peeking!"

Across the room, Lewis, ever the competitor, mirrored Y/N's amusement. "Besides," he added, winking at Anthony, "I have a feeling your cabbage test is about to be proven wildly inaccurate."

Anthony scoffed playfully. "Don't underestimate the power of tradition. Now, hand me that measuring tape."

As the pregnancy had unfolded everyone had made the bump a target to old wives' tales and lighthearted debate.

Y/N's mother, a firm believer in the "pregnancy glow" theory, insisted the baby was a girl based on Y/N's radiant complexion. Anthony, armed with his cabbage test (apparently, a high, round shape indicated a boy), remained stubbornly convinced otherwise.

Lewis, however, held a quiet confidence in his prediction of a girl. He couldn't explain it; it was just a feeling, a deep one that resonated within him.

The rest of the family, friends, and even Ferrari staff, seemed convinced it was a boy. The sheer volume of blue onesies and miniature race car toys accumulating in the nursery was a testament to that.

Despite the overwhelming "boy" camp, Y/N found herself drawn to Lewis's quiet certainty, her mother's unwavering belief and Leclerc’s claim that Lewis was a girl dad and he wouldn’t believe in anything else. There was a subtle shift in their preferences, a secret language of pink frilly socks and delicate stuffed animals tucked away in the corner of the nursery.

As the due date came ever closer the playful arguments gave way to a more sentimental atmosphere.

Anthony surprised everyone one evening by pulling Y/N into a tight embrace. "Girl or boy," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "you're going to be incredible parents. And that little one," he patted Y/N's stomach gently, "they're already so loved."

A tear escaped Y/N's eye, mirroring the glistening in Lewis's. The truth was, the gender didn't matter. They were about to embark on the greatest adventure of their lives.

As Y/N snuggled against Lewis on the couch, just days before their little one arrived, her hand resting on her swollen belly, a wave of peace washed over her.

"You know," she whispered, "maybe the whole point isn't about knowing the gender."

Lewis turned to her, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lamp. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe," Y/N continued, a smile gracing her lips, "the point is in the surprise. The joy of meeting them, whoever they are, for the very first time."

Lewis's smile mirrored hers. He squeezed her hand gently. "We're ready, whatever comes." he said, his voice filled with an unshakeable certainty.

Their shared ritual

Exhaustion clung to Y/N like a second skin. The past three months had been a parade of sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and the constant, gnawing worry that comes with being a new parent.

But nestled in the crook of her arm, a tiny miracle slept soundly. Her daughter, in a quiet moment of shared hope, was a testament to the love that bloomed amidst the chaos.

She was a symphony of soft sighs and the occasional gurgle, her tiny fists clenched in a peaceful slumber. However, the moment Lewis's voice cut through the quiet of the room, her whole world seemed to shift.

"Hey there, my little champion," Lewis cooed, his voice a low murmur as he entered the nursery. The infant’s eyes, a pitch perfect copy of her dad’s brown ones, snapped open. A wide, gummy grin split her face, and a high-pitched squeal erupted from her tiny lungs.

Y/N watched the scene unfold with warmth washing over her. Lewis, ever the prodigy, had taken to parenthood like a natural. The same gentle persuasion he used on the racetrack was now employed to coax a smile from their daughter, his voice a soothing melody that calmed her fussy cries.

The transformation was remarkable. Y/N vividly recalled the first trimester, Lewis sheepishly confessing his anxieties about fatherhood to their unborn child. And throught the months a routine was created as every evening, he'd spend a quiet moment by Y/N's side, whispering words of encouragement and promises of love to the tiny bump.

"Alright, little one," Lewis would say, his voice barely above a whisper, "we're going to face whatever comes our way, as a team, okay?"

Those nightly pep talks, once a source of amusement for Y/N, now seemed almost prophetic. The kid, it seemed, recognized Lewis's voice as a source of comfort, a familiar sound that echoed the evenings spent nestled safely inside Y/N, bathed in the sound of his love.

Lewis, oblivious to the internal monologue playing in Y/N's head, scooped the baby into his arms, his face alight with a radiant joy. He bounced her gently, singing a silly, made-up song about a race car driver and a tiny princess. Captivated by her father's performance, the infant cooed and gurgled in response, her tiny hand reaching out to grab a lock of Lewis's dark braids.

Watching them together, a lump formed in Y/N's throat. The exhaustion that had threatened to consume her throughout the day had faded away, replaced by a fierce and overwhelming love. There, in the quiet sanctuary of the nursery, their team flourished – united by an invisible thread of shared love, a love story whispered before their daughter ever entered the world.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

summary: spencer gets drunks and you offer to take him home. your intentions are clear, you long for him to offer you to stay, but when you do, your relationship becomes more unclear.

cw: fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, drunkenness, drunken confessions, general confessions, kissing, mutual pinning, idiots in love, some angst, fluff, lightly proofread, 3.7k words

<3

the crowd of people in the bar is unexpected, normally there aren’t many people lined across the countertops, snapping their fingers for drinks. it appears that you and the rest of the team have caught the bar at a particularly busy time. you have never been one for bars or alcohol, but whenever the team decides to all go out together, you always find yourself making an exception. after all, who were you kidding? you could use a little distraction from your lingering feelings for a certain pretty boy, genius. 

the entire team sits around a table, nose buried in each of their hands of cards as you compete in an intense game of poker. the air is warm and you can feel each piece of clothing uncomfortably sticking to your stick like a humid summer day. you shift in your seat, bringing one hand away from your cards and to the edge of your tight shirt, carefully pealing it away from your perspirating skin. and though, you meant to erase him from your mind, if only for one night, spencer peeks up from behind his hand of cards, noticing your sudden movement. and when he tilts his head to one side, the motion sending you a silent question, asking “are you okay?” you can’t help but adore him for everything that he is. with a gentle nod in his direction, you silence his worries, before returning to your game of cards without the rest of the team’s knowledge of your interaction. 

"and I win!" morgan’s sudden and triumphant declaration echoes through the room, the resounding slap of his cards hitting the table punctuating his victory. a cocky grin adorns his face, reveling in the satisfaction of his unexpected triumph. the rest of the team, caught off guard, let out a chorus of exasperated groans, their cards dropping onto the table with defeated thuds, and frowns of disbelief etched on their faces. morgan, seizing the opportunity to revel in his victory, turns his attention to spencer, who had been the reigning champion in the previous few games and, truth be told, usually emerges victorious in most gaming scenarios. "would you look at that? pretty boy must've lost his touch," morgan teases, a mischievous glint in his eye as he playfully nudges spencer.

spencer, caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events, sits there with his mouth agape, his usually quick and analytical mind momentarily stunned by the twist in the game. the unexpected defeat has him grappling with a mix of surprise and amusement, and he blinks in disbelief as if trying to process what just happened.

"cat got your tongue, reid?" morgan continues to taunt, while you and the rest of the team watch, amused, fond smiles cast upon your faces as the friendly banter unfolds.

"must be all those drinks," hotch quips, his tone playfully accusing as he crosses his arms in the seat next to spencer, "starting to cloud that genius brain of yours."

you playfully roll your eyes before spencer calmly counters, "i've only consumed a total of five drinks, which technically wouldn't be enough for the neurotransmitters in my brain to stop fully functioning. they could be slowed down, but I'm still fully capable of winning a game of cards at this stage in the evening." a ripple of laughter and teasing remarks follows spencer's scientific explanation, the team thoroughly enjoying the conversation. you, hotch, rossi, and prentiss exchange amused glances. 

morgan, chuckling at spencer’s very sober response, quips, "okay, it's time for you to have another drink."

spencer raises an eyebrow, contemplating the proposal. "but first, I demand a rematch."

the room erupts in a mix of cheers and groans as the team anticipates another round. penelope, observing from the sidelines, can't help but interject with enthusiasm, "oh, this is getting good! i’ve got my money on reid for the rematch!"

morgan sends penelope a look of faux offence, before returning his attention to spencer with a challenge, "whoever loses, drinks the same number of shots as the highest card in their hand."

spencer considers the terms before nodding in agreement, "deal."

"alright, I think it's time for me to grab another drink," emily declares, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she stands from her seat. she turns her attention to you, a playful glint in her eyes, "care to join me?"

you can't help but laugh in response, the invitation exactly what you need. glancing over at spencer, you notice his keen observation, as if he's scrutinizing your every move. you playfully divert your attention, standing up with a grin. "sure, why not?" you reply, the corners of your mouth turning up.

as you follow emily toward the bar, you observe the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversations surround you, and the lively energy of the bar becomes more apparent. the dim lighting casts a warm glow on the faces of the maybe people all around, creating an inviting feeling that contrasts with the intense focus of the card game.

“so, what’s going on between you and reid?” emily asks nonchalantly, as if the question wouldn’t have the effect on you. she slides you a drink across the countertop before grabbing her own and taking a small sip. you body tenses in response to the question and you don’t want to know what color your cheeks must be. 

“what do you mean?” you ask, trying to ignore that fact that you can’t seem to compose yourself. emily raises her eyebrows, shooting you a look of disbelief. 

“I mean, pretty boy over there, hasn’t stopped glancing over here since we left,” emily explains, her words prompting you to turn your gaze towards spencer and the rest of the team. true to emily’s observation, spencer’s eyes are fixated on you, the intensity of his gaze evident even from across the room, “and I’m pretty sure he’s losing.” emily adds, a small smirk resting on her face and the two of you watch as morgan, once again, slams his cards onto the table with a victorious smile. 

“oh, I don’t think that’s because of me.” you reply quietly, trying to downplay the situation. your gaze shifts back to your drink as you swirl the glass around in your hand and watch the liquid flow. 

“are you sure?” emily questions, her eyes twinkling with mischief and her posture relaxed yet keenly attuned to the movements of the conversation.

“I mean, yeah, we like each other,” you admit, looking up at emily’s smirk, which is accentuated by a slight tilt of her head, before quickly dismissing it away, “but not like that.” 

“but you want it to be, like that.” emily suggests and you don’t respond, confirming her suspicions. the weight of emily's words lingers in the air as the two of you watch the team hand spencer drinks, the effects of the shots he's taking becoming increasingly evident. the atmosphere is charged with unspoken tension, and you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

“I don’t know what I want.” you finally confess, answering emily’s last question with your eye lingering on spencer’s drunken self. 

“I think you do.” emily responds, her voice gentle but probing, “but I don’t think he does.”

“emily, I–” you start to respond, urgency to end the conversation evident in your tone, but before you can, emily interrupts. 

 “oh, it looks like he’s coming over.” she says, her eyes widening with anticipation and her smirk evergrowing on her face.

“what?” the sudden realization sparks a flurry of movement within you, a mix of nerves and excitement intertwining as you prepare for the impending interaction.

“i’ll leave you to it.” emily grins, giving you a supportive pat on the shoulder before slipping away into the crowd.

“hi,” spencer greets and you can practically hear the amount alcohol he has consumed within the tone of his voice. it isn’t the same shy tone that you know and love, there’s a little more sweetness and a slight edge of confidence embracing his voice.

“hi, spence.” you respond, your eyes meeting his in a moment that seems suspended in time.

“you’re so pretty,” spencer suddenly slurs, expressing his admiration with sincerity as he hops on the stool next to you and slumps over the edge of the bar, “you’re always so, so beautiful.” he sighs with a soft smile. you hum in agreement, sipping on your drink as you watch spencer with loving amusement. 

“you know, you’re my favorite person ever.” he adds, before his eyes widen suddenly and he leans forward, gesturing for you to lean with him, “but don’t tell morgan, he thinks it’s him.” spencer whispers, earning a loud cackle from you. that seems to make spencer happy, earning that kind of reaction, even if he’s too drunk to truly understand what he’s saying. 

“I love your laugh.” spencer’s words spill out with a warmth that feels like a comforting embrace in the dimly lit bar. his eyes, glazed but loving, reflect a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. 

“spencer, honey, how much have you had to drink?” you ask, concern evident in your voice. in response, spencer clumsily grasps your hand, his fingers fumbling to intertwine with yours. the touch is a blend of affection and intoxication, and you can't help but smile at the endearing sight.

“shh, shhh, you can’t tell anyone,” spencer replies with a giggle escaping his lips, it makes your heart race and sends a delightful shiver down your spine, “I lost another round of cards.” 

“oh, spence, I think it’s time for you to go home,” you suggest gently, running your thumb across his hand, “do you want me to take you?”

“would you?” spencer’s eyes widen with a hopeful glimmer, lifting his head before a soft curl falls onto his sweaty forehead, “I hate taking the bus alone.” spencer admits, his eyes glistening, almost as if he’s about to cry. 

“let me give you a ride, spencer.” you offer, your voice carrying a soothing reassurance, “you shouldn’t ever have to take the bus alone.”

“I know, I know.” spencer replies quietly, feeling ashamed, before you reach out with the hand not holding his to brush a loose curl away from his face.

“alright, let’s go.” you say, gently standing and guiding him towards the exit of the bar, “do you have all your things?” you ask, stopping to face spencer to see his response. he nods, squeezing you hand, before you smile and walk towards the table where the rest of the team sits in order to grab your purse from your chair. 

“hey guys, we’re heading out. I have to get him home safely.” you announce to your teammates, sending them a gracious smile, thankful for the night out, “we’ll see you in the office on monday.”

a series of goodbyes and drive safes echo from your teammates as you allow spencer to hold your hand and lean on your shoulder for stability. together, you make your way out of the bar and towards your car. unlocking the door, you assist spencer into the passenger seat before settling into the drivers seat and taking a moment to reach over to buckle spencer in.

“I can do that myself.” spencer protests, attempting to push your hands away with sluggish movements. 

“sure you can.” you retort, a gentle smile playing at your lips as an annoyed, “hmph,” leaves spencer’s mouth. 

the drive to his apartment is marked by a comforting quietness, the soft hum of the engine interweaving with the occasional murmurs from spencer. when you arrive, you jog over to the passage door, eager to assist him as you navigate the stairs together. reaching his apartment door, spencer retrieves his keys from his pocket, his attempts to unlock the door met with visible frustration. recognizing the need to intervene, you gently step in, placing your hand over his, “hey, hey, let me help you.” you whisper giving spencer a sympathetic smile before he allows you to take his keys and unlock the apartment door. 

“thank you, y/n.” spencer says, letting go of your hand to take a step into his apartment, while you stand just outside.

“you’re welcome, spence.” you respond gently.

the two of you stand there for a moment, locked in each other’s gaze. but, the silence is too much, you can’t handle the truth of what you and spencer are and are not. 

“I guess I should—” you start, but the hesitation in those few words lights a match of hope in spencer’s heart and he can’t help but interrupt. 

“don’t go.” 

“what?” 

“stay.” spencer says with such emotion that your heart feels like it’s about to stop. and when he reaches out for you to take his hand once more, you don’t hesitate.

“yeah.” you nod, stepping through the doorway and into spencer’s apartment, “yeah, I can do that.” you repeat, taking in the space before you. it looks all too familiar to times that you’ve been before, warmth, inviting, just like him. 

before you can engage in any conversation, spencer's sluggish movements guide the two of you towards his bedroom. he briefly releases your hand to sift through his drawers, searching for a set of less damp clothes to wear for the remainder of the night.

"feel free to use the bathroom," spencer mumbles, his words slightly slurred as he gestures in the direction of the adjacent room. the soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm hue, revealing the disheveled state of his bedroom.

in the bathroom, you peel the sweaty material from your skin, feeling the immediate relief of shedding the remnants of a night spent in a crowded bar. the mirror reflects your image, and you assess yourself. the makeup, meticulously applied before the evening's festivities, shows signs of wear. small smudges underneath your eyes and imperceptible flaws on your face catch your attention. you find a washcloth and gently wipe away the remnants of the night, revealing the natural contours of your features.

returning to spencer's room, you find him seated on his bed, his gaze fixed on his lap as his fiddles with his hand. the room is dimly lit, shadows playing on the walls like silent spectators to the unfolding scene. spencer glances up as you enter, his eyes carrying a mix of longing and fatigue.

“stay, with me, please," spencer practically begs, his words carrying a weight of vulnerability that echoes through the room.

"okay," you find yourself saying, the decision flowing from your lips with zero hesitation.

silently, the two of you climb into his bed, laying side by side. your gazes linger on each other for a moment too long, the air thickens and you find yourself momentarily breathless. as you notice spencer lean toward you, searching of your lips, you feel as though your heart beating out of your chest, the rapid movement making my breath catch. but when he kisses you, you know you’re an absolute goner.

his lips are soft and his kiss is gentle, so gentle, like he’s afraid if he kisses too hard, you’ll break. but when you pull away, the realization of spencer's drunken state washes over you.

"I love you," he confesses, the abruptness of his words catching you off guard. your eyes soften with sympathy, understanding that his declaration was led by intoxication. 

"oh, spencer," you hum, reaching forward to gently cup his face, which he tenderly leans into. "tell me when you're sober."

"okay," he murmurs, a whisper of agreement that lingers in the air, before the both of you wrap in each other’s arms and spencer falls into a comforting sleep. yet, you lie awake for moment, questions about your relationship clouding your mind, until finally you give in and fall asleep too. 

—

the morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. as you slowly regain consciousness, a dull ache pulses through your head, the sign of a mild hangover. the warmth of the body beside you serves as a gentle reminder of the events that unfolded the previous night, and a rush of memories floods your mind. you glance at spencer, and you can’t help but notice the furrowed brows on his forehead, confirming your suspicions of a major hangover of his own. the desire to kiss away his discomfort lingers, an unspoken gesture to alleviate the tension etched on his face. however, uncertainty about the nature of your relationship holds you back, even after the intimate connection you shared last night. 

silently, you slip out of the bed, careful not to disturb spencer's peaceful slumber. the soft creak of the door announces your departure as you head to the bathroom, intent on changing back into your own clothes. spencer's clothes, a reminder of the night's events, lay neatly on his dresser. the room retained the echo of shared laughter and whispered conversations, leaving you in a contemplative state.

once dressed, you tiptoe through the hushed space and navigate through the familiar halls of spencer's apartment. in the kitchen, you leave a glass of water, a tylenol, and a quick note on the counter, a small offering to soothe the aftermath of the night. with each passing moment, your thoughts swirl like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. questions about the nature of your relationship with spencer remain, and the quiet house seems to hold the weight of those unanswered queries. you hesitate before leaving, casting a final glance at the still-sleeping spencer, his vulnerability exposed in the morning light.

summoning a cab, you venture back to your own apartment, the familiar surroundings offering a respite from the whirlwind of emotions. the click of your keys on the kitchen counter echoes through the space, and you collapse onto the couch with a sigh. running a hand down your face, you lean back against the cushions as you repeatedly replay the events of the previous night in your mind. 

—

monday morning unfolds with a swiftness that catches you off guard, a reminder that the enjoyment of the weekend has drawn to a close. seeking solace, you head to the bau office early, hoping to avoid spencer, at least for the time being. the comforting hum of the coffee machine beckons, and you find yourself mechanically preparing a cup to ready yourself for the day ahead. a yawn escapes, betraying the exhaustion that lingers from the weekend. as the rich aroma of coffee envelops you, a familiar chuckle interrupts your thoughts.

"how was the rest of your weekend, gorgeous?" morgan inquires, his tone light-hearted, though you can sense a mischievous undertone.

you roll your eyes in response, leaning back against the counter with the warm cup cradled in your hands. "it was good."

morgan, undeterred, pours himself a cup of coffee and continues his interrogation, a sly grin on his face. "and your night with reid? how is pretty boy treating you?"

your eyes widen before narrowing in suspicion. "what do you know?" you question, the accusatory edge in your tone not lost on morgan. he raises his free hand in defense, a playful shrug accompanying his innocent expression.

"hey, I was just wondering," morgan replies before taking a sip of his coffee. "it's obvious that you two like each other," he adds slyly, leaving you momentarily stunned, echoing the shock from your recent conversation with emily.

"no, it's not," you retort, your gaze still narrow as you fight to defend your emotions.

"whatever you say, sweetheart," morgan comments, walking away, leaving you standing by the coffee machine, your mind swirling with the weight of recent revelations.

as you ponder emily's words, spencer's drunken confession, and morgan's casual observations, the scent of books and wool approaches beside you. your heart skips a beat in anticipation of the impending conversation.

“hey, can we talk?” spencer asks, his voice regaining its sweet, shy tone, replacing the confident echoes of his intoxicated self. the smell of books, wool, leather, and a hint of coffee instead of the burning scent of alcohol. his gentle smile and shy gaze. his curls tucked perfectly behind his ears, and his form tall instead of slouched toward the ground. you prefer him this way—sober, gentle, sincere. 

“um, yeah. yeah, we can talk.” you nod, each word a conscious effort to maintain composure.

“look, we can pretend I never said what I said if that means—”

your eyes widen with shock before you interrupt, “what? no! you can’t take it back!” you almost yell, catching the attention of a few of your teammates, who are walking around the office, files in hand. 

“then I don’t really know what to do,” spencer admits, his vulnerability laid bare, “because I meant it, y/n. I love you and I’ll say it a thousand times even if it means that we aren’t friends anymore. and I want you to know I haven’t stopped thinking about you all weekend but I thought you needed space. and—”

“I love you, too, spence.” you confess, stopping spencer’s rant from going any further, and ending any confusion between the two of you. 

spencer's face lights up, delight evident in his expression. "really?" he asks, and a giggle escapes your lips as you revel in his excitement, mirroring your own bubbling joy.

"yes, really," you respond, placing your cup of coffee on the counter. spencer takes a couple of quick strides towards you, a beaming smile seemingly etched permanently on his face.

"can I kiss you?" spencer boldly asks, his excitement momentarily overriding his usual composure. you nod, and spencer gently grasps your face, his palms pressing against your cheeks as he kisses you in such way that tells you he’s been wanting to for a very long time. when you pull away, wide smiles adorn both of your faces, the giddy excitement, like a child’s, taking over your senses and it’s not long before your lips are on his once more. 

“wheels up in ten,” hotch’s voice suddenly interrupts, jolting you back to reality. both you and spencer pull away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment of being caught by your boss, “and I better not see any more of that in my office.” hotch adds sternly, shooting you each a pointed look. 

“yes, sir.” spencer nods nervously, casting you a quick glance, while hotch’s gaze also turns towards you. 

you offer a shrug, glancing at spencer with a soft smile, “i’m not making any promises.”

<3

masterlist . spencer reid masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @ihrtmasong, @averyhotchner, @jordie-gvf, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[shitsndgiggs]

THE SECRET IS OUT - LAMINE YAMAL

In which a secret comes out when Spain won the euros

Lamine Yamal x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

As the clock hit the 86th minute, Mikel Oyarzabal found himself perfectly positioned, meeting Marc Cucurella’s cross with precision.

He tapped the ball past Jordan Pickford, giving Spain a crucial 2-1 lead. The Spanish fans erupted in joy, their cheers filling the Berlin night.

The remaining minutes of regular time were a blur of frantic action. England pushed forward desperately, seeking an equalizer, but Spain’s defense held firm.

The tension was palpable, every second stretching out as the Spanish team fought to maintain their lead.

Finally, the referee blew the whistle, signaling the end of the match and confirming Spain’s victory. The stadium exploded with celebration.

The awards ceremony began shortly after the final whistle. England’s players were the first to step up, receiving their silver medals with a look of disappointment etched on their faces.

The applause was respectful, acknowledging their hard-fought journey to the final.

Next, it was Spain’s turn. The atmosphere was electric as the Spanish team lined up to receive their gold medals.

Each player beamed with joy as the medals were placed around their necks, the culmination of their hard work and determination.

Among the accolades, Lamine Yamal was called forward to receive the Young Player of the Tournament trophy.

His face lit up with a mixture of surprise and pride as he accepted the award, the crowd cheering loudly in recognition of his outstanding performances throughout the tournament.

As he held the trophy aloft, his teammates clapped him on the back, their cheers echoing in the stadium.

With medals around their necks and trophies in hand, the Spanish team gathered together for the ultimate prize.

The Euro 2024 trophy gleamed under the stadium lights as the captain lifted it high above his head. The team erupted in joyous celebration, the iconic sight of confetti raining down on the champions.

“Come on, let's join them,” Lamine's mother said, pulling me towards the pitch.

We made our way down, weaving through the throngs of ecstatic fans and media.

The field was a scene of pure jubilation. Spanish players were embracing, jumping, and shouting in celebration.

Lamine spotted us and broke away from his teammates, sprinting towards his family. He enveloped his mother in a tight hug, lifting her off the ground, his laughter ringing out.

“Lamine, you were incredible!” I shouted over the noise, my voice barely reaching him.

He turned to me, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “Thank you! This is unreal!” He pulled me into a hug, his grip strong and full of elation.

We had kept our relationship a secret for months, fearing the scrutiny that could come with it.

But in this moment, Lamine's happiness overflowed, and he didn't seem to care who saw us. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead, and then another to my cheek.

"You're my good luck charm," he whispered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

I laughed, feeling the weight of secrecy lift ever so slightly. "Looks like I have to come to all your games now."

"Deal," he said, his eyes twinkling. "But seriously, thank you for being here."

“You really outdid yourself,” I said, my voice a mix of pride and amazement.

“I couldn’t have done it without knowing you all were here,” he replied, his smile never fading.

Then, in a move that made my heart skip a beat, Lamine took his gold medal from around his neck and placed it over mine. “This is for you, mi amor,” he said, his eyes holding mine. I could barely respond, the gesture leaving me overwhelmed.

As the celebration continued, we stayed close, Lamine occasionally placing a hand on my back or holding my hand briefly, his joy making it impossible for him to keep his distance.

The other players were too engrossed in their own celebrations to notice much, but a few teammates gave us knowing smiles and nods, supportive in their silence.

"Lamine, come on, we need you for the team photo!" one of his teammates called out.

He squeezed my hand one last time before joining his team, looking back at me with a smile that promised many more shared moments.

As he stood with his teammates, the cameras flashing, I couldn't help but feel proud, not just of his achievement, but of the bond we had managed to keep strong through it all.

The night was filled with laughter, hugs, and endless photos. The Spanish team celebrated their victory, but for Lamine and me, it was also a moment to share our joy and love with the world.

Our secret was out, and it felt perfect.

[pandorasfavorite]

can u do a dom x fem!reader and basically shes an interviewer at wwe and dating dom and decided to try the pheromone perfume thing on him and it drives him wild and then smut 🤭

Perfume is Powerful

I'm clawing at the walls writing this.... and were pretending baby boy is in his Champion era.

You and Dominik have been dating for close to a year but no one knows. There have been rumors, but of course, there was no concrete evidence, you guys were careful. You hate to be a woman who is displeased by her boyfriend... the sex is great every time without fail. But part of you longs for something more feverish, quick, risky. Anytime yall fuck it's passionate and in bed, you want that movie type of sex. The kind that makes you throw your head back and have your mouth muffled by his big hands while he plows into you. Truly when Dominik steps into work he is instantly into character, but regardless his character is still in love with you....

You are dressed up in a business casual type outfit, a skirt that was a bit shorter than normal, that the cameras couldn't see. But your shirt was skimpy, covered by a coat that would conceal you during the interview. What brought the whole thing was the new perfume you bought, all the reviews say it makes their boyfriends go crazy, so you had to try it out. You roll the perfume onto the sides of your neck, your wrists, and just a bit on the insides of your thighs...just in case.

Dominik has yet to come to the interview but all the cameras were set up when it goes live. Dominik couldn't be around you before the interview otherwise his character wouldn't be as pronounced, and it would be too obvious. He walks in with that usual swagger his face etched with a frown, that mean look always gave you goosebumps in the best way. You couldn't help but smile and Dominik was holding back, his lip just barely quirked up at the sight of you before he suppressed it. The directors told you both it was time. You and Dominik stood nearly shoulder to shoulder facing the camera. "3...2...1...were live!" the director yelled.

You smile directly at the camera to start your introduction, "I'm joined by NXT champion Dominik Mysterio, who got a front row seat to his opponents match for tonight, that his father set up. How are you feeling going in?", you turn to ask him and immediately you are struck. Dominik looks bent out of shape all of the sudden, his jaw is tight as if it was wired shut and his fist is clenched to his side. He shakes his head and coughs trying to play it off, "Well, my back hurts from carrying this company on my back for past almost two years now. I already beat Dragon Lee twice with my dad in his corner". Dominik speaks to the camera but its clear to you that his mind is elsewhere, his hand is twitching at its side now...towards you.

You smile at his cocky response moving on to one more question with your own twist, "Standing here with Mr. 'Dirty' Dominik Mysterio has been a great pleasure, we have one more question for you.".

Dominik swallows and you noticed he has started to sweat, pulling at his shirt to get some air. "Yea".

Your directors nodded at you, they knew of this news, but Dominik is just now finding out on live television. "What is your advice for a new wrestler such as myself?", the roars of the crowd were booming loud enough for the cameras to pick up on. Dominik's eyes went comedically wide and he nearly dropped his belt right off his shoulder. He breathes shallowly, he gathers his bearing just enough to say, "You don't need any advice". This means Dominik had complete confidence in your abilities. You turn your attention back to the camera and you smile. The crew instantly packed up their things and rushed out of the room in a matter of 30 seconds, on their way to other segments.

The door clicks shut and you hear Dominik's belt smack on the ground. He unbuckles his belt, ripping it off of his body and he rushes towards you. His large hands grasp and squeeze your waist, his nose nustling into your neck, and then you hear a loud muffled moan. His mouth is open sucking on your neck while he takes deep breaths, inhaling the natural smell the perfume brought out. Your fingers run through his hair, and you giggle at his reaction, "You okay baby?".

Dominik thrusts your body against him, with no space left for yourself. "You smell good", he says in an uncharacteristic deep voice, your eyes light up. You kiss his cheek, "Don't I always?".

"This is different, mierda mami. You're driving me crazy", in a second you feel his teeth scrape across your collar bone. His hands work at the buttons of your skirt pulling it down till it falls to the floor. He tosses his shirt of quickly and sinks to his knees to connect his lips to the soft of your legs. You spread your legs just enough for Dominik to get between them and the moment he does the groans at the same smell, his hand falling from your leg to his cock. He lays his forehead on one of your legs and his eyes are squeezed shut, you rub his head trying to see what's going on. "Dominik? What's wrong?", your voice is overflowing with concern, you didn't think he'd react this strongly. "I think I'm gonna cum", he sputters out, his fingers leaving red marks on your thighs. You can't control the gasp that flies out of your mouth, you knew that was going to be burned into your mind for a year... maybe two.

You sink to your knees in front of him, your hands cradling his face now... not that it helped considering you put it on your wrists as well. "Do you need a minute?", you ask so sweetly. He answers with a deep inhale, nearly tilting his head back at the pleasure you bring to him just by your natural pheromones. God the way he was acting you didn't need any prep, he could slide right in. "I need it now hermosa, tell me you can take it, tell me mami", he looks up at you with wide, glossy, dilated eyes that take your breath away. "I can take it", you whisper to him trying to diffuse some of the tension he is feeling.

His face splits into a major grin and he pushes your thighs apart so he can get in between them. In that moment he gets close to you, only to push you back by the chest, a hand behind your head when it hits the floor. You lay on your back, your feet flat on the floor and your legs spread. Dominik pulled off your coat but simply unbuckled your bra from under the shirt, tossing it off to the side. His patience was wearing thin, he pulled your shirt just above your boobs and his hands instantly go to touch them. His mouth follows and the closer he gets to the smell of you he can feel himself lose control over again. Another groan of pleasure and a bit of pain from denial brings him back to his twitching cock. "I can't be easy, I have to fuck you-tell me-", you sit up on your elbows for just a moment to look at him. "Fuck me", you say with absolute certainty.

He follows your instruction, pulling out his cock quickly and pushing into you with one fluid motion, the girth stretching you in the most pleasurable way. Your mouth falls open with a moan/whimper. "I know mami, it's going to feel so good in just a second", he says like a promise, though he was feeling as if he was going to cum on the spot. You tug at his hair, your wrist right by his face, the smell driving him to a frenzy, he thrusts into you at a relentless pace. The sounds of his hips smacking against your ass was loud enough to echo, your moans come out loud and high-pitched... too loud. Dominik think the sounds from your mouth are the hottest thing he's ever heard but you both cant risk getting caught. His hand clasps over your mouth, his hair dangling in front of him, his hips working rhythmically, his body looking like a Greek god. He slows down and goes deep inside of you, groaning as you moan, "I'll give you some advice if you want to walk- don't wear this shit. My cock was hard the moment I got close to you", he rasped into your ear.

The sensation felt so good, his deep thrusts hitting the spot inside of you that only he could reach. Every roll and rock of his hips made your walls clench around him and you felt it coming before you even realized it. Your head just barely tilted back and your back arched, Dominik knew what was coming just by that. He pressed you back down harshly, pressing down on your stomach just to the point you could feel that pressure. "Cum. You know you go first", he grits out feeling himself getting close too. As you cum your pussy convulsed around Dominik's cock and the pleasure was astronomical for him. The wet slick and almost painful tightness brought him over the edge moments after you. He cums with a groan, his face falling into the side of your neck.

He inhales and pulls back with a groan, his face made as he glares at you. "You still smell so fucking good. I just came mami-", now he sounds like he's whining at the effect you have on him.

[meazalykov]

heart of gold

aitana bonmati x WAG!reader

summary: there's a big reason why you've fallen in love with her

warnings: angst, bronze medal match

a/n: the winner of the vote was this fic, here you go <3

the roar of the crowd around you faded into the background as the final whistle blew. germany had secured the bronze medal, and spain was left with nothing. 

your stomach churned as you watched the spanish players slump to the ground, faces etched with exhaustion and disappointment. but your eyes were fixed on aitana.

there she was, the ballon d’or winner, the heart of the team, standing tall amid the wreckage. even as the loss sank in, she was comforting her younger teammates, cradling their heads against her chest as they sobbed. 

aitana wasn’t breaking — not yet, at least. that’s who she was. selfless, grounded, the strength for everyone else.

you watched as laura, laura freigang, asked aitana to swap shirts shortly after. the blonde wondered if it was too early to ask, but aitana gave her reassurance as she took the german shirt and gave laura the red spanish one. 

your hands gripped your camera, not sure if you should even take any pictures at this moment. 

your job as a sports photographer had brought you to moments like this, but this time was different. 

this time, it was personal. you’d met aitana through your work, and somewhere between the flashes of your camera and the interviews, you’d fallen in love with her. it wasn’t just her skill on the pitch that drew you in, though. it was the way she treated everyone — humble, kind, always thinking of others first.

but right now, all you wanted was for your girlfriend to think about herself, to let herself feel what she was bottling up. your chest tightened, wishing there was something you could do to take away the hurt she was surely feeling inside.

you glanced over at the germans celebrating. you’d worked with a few of them too, knew their faces, their stories. 

you were happy for them, but that happiness was muted by the pain you felt for aitana. she deserved something — something to show for the blood, sweat, and tears she’d put into this tournament.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, aitana’s gaze found yours. her eyes softened when she saw you, though she still wore that brave face for her team. 

she gave you a small nod, as if to say she was okay. but you knew better.

she finished speaking with her teammates and made her way over to you, the weight of the match clinging to her like a shadow. when she reached you, her shoulders were slumped, her walls still up.

“i’m sorry,” she said in english, voice low and strained.

“you don’t need to apologize, aitana. not for this.” you shook your head immediately, stepping closer, your hand gently brushing her arm. 

“it feels like i should,” she muttered, her voice trembling slightly. 

“i should’ve done more. i should’ve—”

“aitana, no,” you interrupted, squeezing her hand. 

“you did everything. you were incredible out there, like always. no one can take that away from you.”

“but it wasn’t enough. there is no medal.” her eyes flicked away, as if she couldn’t believe your words, as if the loss had clouded her judgment. 

“that’s not true,” you said firmly, lifting your hand to gently cradle her cheek, guiding her gaze back to yours. 

“you’ve done so much more than you realize. yes, the result sucks, but look at what you’ve accomplished. ballon d’or, you guys are the current world champions, and today, you were the one holding everyone together with alexia. you kept going, even when the team was falling apart. that’s worth more than any medal.”

aitana’s lips quirked into a small, sad smile, but the frustration was still there, simmering just below the surface. 

“i wanted something for them,” she whispered. “for the younger ones. i wanted them to have something to show for this.”

your heart ached as you saw the selflessness in her eyes. even now, she wasn’t thinking about herself. 

“they’ll have you to look up to, aitana,” you said softly. “you’re their role model. they’ll remember how you were there for them today, how you helped them through this. that’s something they’ll carry with them forever.”

finally, aitana’s shoulders slumped, the tension easing slightly as she let out a long, shaky breath. “i don’t know if that’s enough.”

“it is,” you assured her, your thumb brushing over her cheek. “you’re enough. always. not just to them, but for me.”

her eyes searched yours, and for the first time since the match ended, her walls began to crumble. 

the brave facade she’d been holding up for her teammates fell away, and you saw the hurt, the exhaustion, the vulnerability she’d been hiding.

“i just— i hate feeling like i failed,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close, her head resting against your shoulder. 

“you didn’t fail. you’re not capable of failing. you’ve given everything to this sport, aitana, and it shows. maybe not today, but in the way you play, the way you lead, the way you care.”

she was quiet for a moment, her arms slowly wrapping around you in return. “you make it sound so easy,” she murmured, her breath warm against your neck.

“it’s not easy,” you said, running your fingers through her hair. “but it’s the truth. you are incredible, not just because of your awards. you’re incredible because you’ve got the biggest heart, aitana. you’ve always put others first, even when you didn’t have to.”

she pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

“it’s okay,” you whispered, brushing your thumb across her cheek. “feel everything right now. but when you’re ready, remember what you’ve accomplished. remember how much you’ve given. and remember that, no matter what, you’re still the woman i fell in love with because of who you are, not what you’ve won.”

aitana finally let the tears fall, and you held her as she cried, her grip on you tightening. 

you didn’t care that you were still in the middle of the stadium, that people might be watching or snapping pictures. none of that mattered right now. what mattered was aitana, and being there for her the way she always was for everyone else.

“thank you,” she whispered after a while, her voice hoarse.

“always,” you replied softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “i’m so proud of you. and i always will be.”

she gave you a small, grateful smile, her eyes still red but softer now. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out,” you teased gently, earning a quiet laugh from her.

aitana leaned into you again. you smiled knowing that she still had a bright future ahead of her.

you’ve always admired aitana and her heart of gold, you will never stop admiring it. its a big reason why you've fallen in love with her.

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[leclerc-hs]

lucky (bonus!) - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: in which you and your childhood best friend have sex for the first time. Warnings: BAD FRENCH! (I didn't get to check these translations so if they're wrong please correct me and I will fix!), smut, angst, cheating (oops) Word Count: 1,381 Author's Note: hi! I felt that Charles and Lucky having sex later in their friendship was the right move. I was in between making them younger, but it didn't feel right writing about teenagers having sex to me lmaoooo. I love you guys and hope that you enjoy!!! please leave feedback I love hearing from you all. xo PART 1 PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

HE WINS IN Spa; He wins in Monza!

The air was filled with a mix of adrenaline, joy, and the unmistakable scent of burnt rubber from the track. The vibrant red of the Ferrari flowed under the brilliant Italian sun, reflection the passion of this moment. The crowd’s cheers echoed, creating a symphony of celebration that seemed to envelop the entire circuit.

Your heart raced with a blend of pride and excitement, knowing that your best friend had achieved something extraordinary. The victory at the Ferrari home race was more than just a win; it was a triumph that would be etched in the annals of racing history.

Turning your attention to the podium, you marveled at the sight of your best friend standing tall, a champion stood above in the midst the cheering crowd. His racing suit adorned with the iconic prancing horse; he wore the victorious smile of someone who conquered not just the track but the hearts of fans worldwide.

The tears welled up in your eyes, a testament to the shared journey and countless hours of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice that led to this moment. You were so happy for him.

The podium ceremony unfolded with the spraying of champagne, and as the golden droplets shimmered in the sunlight, you couldn’t help but feel proud as you savored the moment completely. 

“Il s’est très bien debrouillé!” He did so well! You muttered to Lorenzo who greeted you with a big hug of excitement.

“Oui! You’re needed in his driver’s room,” Lorenzo responded with a smile. “Il m’a dit plus tôt.” He told me earlier. 

You patiently waited in his driver’s room, lounging on the compact leather couch. When the door swung open at last, with his race suit unzipped at his waist, you leaped to your feet with excitement. 

You cried out, “Mon dieu, Charlie!” My God, Charlie! before leaping right into his arms, clinging onto him tightly. “Je suis tellement fiere de toi!” I am so proud of you!

He felt his heart pound rapidly as you leaped into his arms. He wanted to tell you right then and there that he was in love with you.

“Nous devons célébrer!” We must celebrate! You waited for him to place you back down on your feet, but he never did. At least not as soon as you thought he would. He just held you there, staring at you as if you were the sun.

“My Lucky,” he says. “It’s all because of you.”

It was quick. One second, he was smiling at you as he held you up against him, and the next you were pressed against the door with his lips on yours. You felt your stomach clench from the heat of the kiss.

“Est-ce que c’est bon?” Is this okay? You nodded into the kiss. Yes – yes it’s okay. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. In fact, it wasn’t supposed to happen at all. You both could blame it on the fact that he just won a major race or the rush of emotions from the win. But it was just love. Not that either of you would ever admit it.

His hips had you pinned to the wall, completely at his mercy, while his hands fumbled with the button of your jeans. “Puis je les enlever?” Can I take these off?

You didn’t provide a verbal response; instead, you assisted by pushing the jeans down and shimmying out of them. His fingers immediately nudging their way past your cotton panties and hooking two of them right into your center as his thumb rubbed your clit in quick circles.

“Tu es tremée,” You’re soaked. He moaned into your mouth, the vibration of his groan echoing hotly into your mouth.

You moaned back softly into his. Your moans alone were enough to send Charles into a rampage. He wanted to listen to you for eternity. It was in this moment, he thought he never wanted to hear anything else from your mouth again.

You skillfully removed his race suit from his hips before he guided you to the same compact sofa you just waited patiently on. His lips never left yours as you both fell to the couch – you now straddling him. 

You both were so frantic. So needy. The only time your mouths separated was for him to whisper the foulest things. They only fueled you to ride him harder.

You’re so fucking tight.

Just like that.

Squeezing me like you’re going to come, Lucky.

Such a good girl.

C’mon let me feel you come.

I can feel how fucking wet you are.

You both came simultaneously, heavy breaths exchanged into each other’s mouths. It was so hot.

The suddenness of it all left you breathless, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. One second, his tongue was pushing its way into your mouth again. The next, you were pushing him away, standing up from the couch as you rushed to find your jeans and get them back on.

The reality began to sink in, a shadow over the fleeting moment. He has a girlfriend, a detail that changed the complexion of the situation. You felt sick to your stomach as the reality began to weigh down on you.

Although the term girlfriend was a bit of a stretch, you felt awful. But you didn’t regret it. You could never regret anything with Charles. He was your person. Your best friend. 

“Nous ne pouvons pas refaire ça.” We can’t do this again.

“Lucky.” His arms, once a source of comfort, now felt like constraints as he grasped you. The taste of his kiss lingered, but it was overshadowed by the bitter understanding that boundaries have been crossed.

You yearned for a different reality where his girlfriend didn’t exist, but the weight of the truth remained. Accepting, you grappled that some things were beyond your control. 

“Cha, c’est bien.” It’s okay.  With a heartfelt effort, you mustered up the biggest smile, gently cupping his face into your hands. Despite your warm gesture, his eyes reflected a sadness, a longing for something more, a desire that he couldn’t act upon. 

“Tu es mon meilleur ami.” You’re my best friend. “Nous oublierons que cela s’est produit.” We will forget that this happened.

Charles shook his head in disagreement at first, but you stopped him. You needed to shift the conversation. You were supposed to be out celebrating. “Nous devons célébrer!” We must celebrate!

You urged Charles to get dressed quickly. You needed to get out of the confines of this room.

Physically, Charles nodded with a smile, but internally, he felt nothing but pain in his heart. It’s always been you. He wanted to yell that she means nothing to him, that it’s you who means everything. 

“Allons-y,” Let’s go. You grabbed his hand, leading him out of the driver’s room to kick off your night of celebration, leaving the pressing issues behind. Pretending as if nothing changed. He was your best friend. You were his best friend. Nothing changed.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

Charles found it unbearable. The attention you were attracting was driving him to the brink of madness as he sat in the booth of the club, with his girlfriend beside him.

“C’est toujours elle,” It’s always her. She leaned over into Charles ear. 

His so-called girlfriend wasn’t oblivious, like he thought. She always picked up on his gaze following you, his constant talk about you, and the fact you were consistently his top priority. Initially, she shrugged it off, given your close friendship. It only became apparent to her when she sensed that your needs started taking precedence over hers. 

She couldn’t even pretend to ignore the marks on his neck. 

“Quoi?” What? Charles finally glanced at her, breaking free from his trance on you. It only prompted laughter from her, evidence that his attention was solely fixed on you. He heard her though. He just didn’t want to acknowledge that he had been caught.

“You’re wasting my time,” his girlfriend muttered before standing up, grabbing her things to leave. “If you want her, tell her.” These were the final words she uttered to Charles before exiting the club, leaving him behind.

But little did she know that he had attempted to share his feelings for you numerous times. It just never worked out. The timing was always off. 

[mariahcarreyyy]

congrats on 2k!!! you deserve it and so so much more <3

can i request being overprotective of them in front of prospective partners with max ofc thank u very much -cait/@leclerced

# prompt no.10, being overprotective of them in front of prospective partners

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

It was embarrassing.

Watching two grown men argue over who would drive you home from the lively, neon-lit bar led to a bashful flush, warming your body amidst the crisp darkness of the night.

Only minutes prior, Max had taken one look at you and decided home was where you should be. You didn't make any protests because he's right; you wonder if you looked like a book to Max—pages crinkled, broken spines, and easily read words in his favorite font.

"I can take my fucking girlfriend home, Max," your boyfriend, Scotty, seethes through gritted teeth, an ugly vein bursting on his forehead.

Scotty evidently did not like the idea of Max driving you home for a reason you had no idea of. You and Max had been friends for years, so if even an ounce of your yearning and want was reciprocated, he would've done something by now.

That thought did little to dwindle the stubborn 'what if's from gnawing at your soul, the twinge in your heart whenever you see Max with anyone but yourself.

And also the slight guilt at thinking of another man when you have a perfectly fine one waiting at home for you each night but. Whatever.

"I swear to fucking God if you get into that car with her--"

Eyes widening, you place a calming hand on Max's shoulder and ignore the daggers your boyfriend is glaring at your touch. "Okay, how 'bout we all relax, yeah?"

Max cranes his neck to look at you, his harsh facade melting when he catches sight of the worry etched on your face. Once his heaving turned into steady breathing, your face ducking shyly to look away from his gaze, your boyfriend cleared his throat loudly.

You hastily drop your hand like the Dutch had burned you, and Max lets out a disapproving noise at the loss of your contact. Yeah, Scotty did not look impressed. The murderous glint in his eyes did nothing to quell the uncomfortable atmosphere, his jaw flexing like he's capable of murder, of tearing Max's limbs off and letting the blood spill on the pavement.

"Scotty...to be fair, you did drink, and I don't really feel like dying tonight."

A hand creeps around Max's waist, your fingertips pinching the flesh after you hear him snort. A barely concealed yelp from the driver has Scotty scrunching his nose up in distaste, nostrils flared, and betrayal painted across his face.

You should probably side with your boyfriend, but. But the cool breeze makes the tiny hairs on your arms stand up, teeth chattering; you wrap the thin, barely-there jacket Max gave you at the beginning of the night and roll your eyes, walking to Max's car.

Fondly, Max observes the impatient tapping of your foot and flush on your face—from the cold, he tells himself, not for the same reasons as himself. He raises his brows tauntingly at Scotty before advancing towards your shaky frame.

"Fuckin' bitch," Scotty mutters into the air, lips pursed into a scowl and vodka overriding his senses.

Your ears don't quite grasp the words, but Max's do. So, when the world champion's fist paves the way for the colorful hues of a bruise to bloom on the bridge of your boyfriend's nose, you can't help but choke on a gasp.

authors note. anddddd scotty makes a comeback!!!! tbf in the og fic he was actually portrayed as a good bf. max & reader r js bad ppl. now i dont have to feel bd tho cus he's terrible in this🥰

[ficthots]

Stanley

A/N: Well, it's happened. I am out of hockey fic retirement to bring ya'll this wonderfully delicious Matty smut. I mean, he's now a Stanley Cup champion...it's only right! As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ content only. DNI if under 18

3:23 AM. 

The clock on the bedside table displayed what a whirlwind of a day it had been. A life changing day, really. The battle was over and the victors were celebrating. Your husband was celebrating. Now his legacy was permanently etched in NHL history. The biggest feat of his life. 

Matthew Tkachuk was a Stanley Cup champion. 

You were amazed that you had made it back to the house at all that night. Given that some of the team were still out and about celebrating their win. Matt had wandered into the ensuite just minutes before, giving you plenty of time to prepare. 

Prepare what exactly? Your celebratory activity for him. 

Wearing only a Panthers jersey, and only the jersey, you laid across the king mattress, waiting for your spouse to come and find you.

The feelings you had been experiencing all evening were practically indescribable. Truly, is there anything better than watching your favorite person in the world fulfill all of his lifelong dreams right before your very eyes?

Standing to the side as he embraced his brother, sister, mom, and dad, your eyes were rimmed with unshed happy tears. When his gaze finally set on you, you watched the pure unfiltered joy emanating from him. He had you wrapped up in his arms and placed the most knee weakening, heart pounding, clit throbbing kiss on you that you had ever experienced. 

He was gone in the blink of an eye, pulled away to celebrate this moment with his teammates. You watched on, cheering the entire time, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of you.

Now, he was finally all yours once more. With the light turning off behind him, he halted in his tipsy steps to see you. His jaw flexed, eyes growing instantly darker. “So, what does a girl have to do around here to sleep with a Stanley Cup champ?” 

He slowly stalked towards the bed, shirt already discarded, only wearing his tight boxer briefs which did little to hide the raging hard on he was sporting. His movements were excruciating, simply burning to feel his touch on you, anywhere. 

Hovering over you, arms braced on either side of your body, the loose jersey sitting high on your thighs, his eyes raked over your figure. He hummed, a deep low rumble from deep within his chest. Your breathing was already growing ragged, short, anticipation building as his brows furrowed. 

Fingers grabbing the fabric on you, lifting it ever so slightly from your body, he let it fall back without exposing you. “What do you want, baby? Hmm?” Your lips darted out, moistening your lips quickly.

“You.”

His deep blue eyes locked onto yours, lowering his head to seal himself to you. It was sweet, gentle, the exact opposite of what you were expecting. Parting your lips, your tongue slowly moved from your mouth to his, sweeping seductively over his own. The taste of beer and liquor still heavily covered him. 

A whimper escaped your throat as your slow makeout session slowly built in pressure. His roaming hands left your waist before tangling themselves in your hair. Sitting up to reach him further, your hands landed on his chiseled torso, rock hard beneath the warm embrace of you. 

Speaking through kisses, his voice was ragged and desperate. “Take it off for me, baby, please. I need to see you, mama.” His fingers gripped the hem, helping you deposit the discarded jersey to a heap on the floor. 

Laying flat on the bed below, his eyes bounced around, not sure where they needed to land. It took every ounce of strength he had to stand up and watch you. “Spread your legs,” you didn’t hesitate. Knees parting, your dripping core was on display for him.

Knowing what to do next, your fingers sat on your tongue for a few seconds, moving lower. You jumped in surprise at the electric shock that jolted through you when the pads of your fingers reached your clit. 

An unfiltered moan slipped from you, watching as Matty shook his head. “Be quiet. We have a house full of family that could hear every single little noise you make. Does that turn you on? You fucking slut,” his own hand dipped into his briefs, slowly starting to stroke himself. 

You bit your tongue, rubbing slow circles on your nub, slipping further down to plunge a finger into your soaking cunt. A gasp escaped, but you swallowed it down. Matthew had never seen such an angelic site before. 

There you were, on display for him, playing with yourself. Your hair splayed around you in a near perfect halo. His wife. His real prize. Although, he had to admit, bringing that Stanley Cup home was a damn close second. 

“Matty, honey, please.” He loved hearing your needy voice beg. Begging for him to fuck you senseless. He was holding off as much as he could. He had finally removed that last layer of his clothing, squeezing his dick to dribble out even more precum to assist with his jerking.

His teeth sank into his lip, finally pouncing on you. It was messy and disgusting, the exchange of saliva between you two. Dripping from your chin, clawing at his back to attempt to bring him as physically close as possible. 

Yet, the tip of his cock rubbed against you, refusing to enter where you needed him most. Panting together, his fingers tweaked your perked nipples, mouth enclosing around you, nearly taking your entire breast. Your head flew back, eyes squeezed shut, his hand clamped over your mouth to keep your noises at bay. 

Lips landed on your tits, sternum, the soft flesh of your stomach, before his mouth closed around your nub. “Baby, I want,” you were struggling to get your words out between the lapping at your slit and the harsh sucking of your clit. His meaty fingers sank into you, two at a time, and began pumping.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, your knee, speaking in a teasing way. “What’s that, mama? What do you want?” His shit eating smirk lit you up in flames, locking eyes as he ravished your cunt. “Use your words,” he nearly sang to you. 

“I wanna suck you off,” he continued for another minute or so, entirely ignoring your request. Finally, he removed himself from you, inching towards you, his swollen cock aching for attention.

You didn’t wait, enveloping him into your warm and welcoming mouth. His eyes instantly fluttered shut, hand grabbing a fist full of hair as he began face fucking you. “Take it, baby. Take it all for me,” you greedily accepted. You had him fully in you, the tip of your nose brushing against his well maintained hair. 

It went on like this for what felt like seconds only before he pulled back, gasping for air. “No, I can’t cum in your mouth. Need your pussy.” In the brief moment when you caught your breath and let your eyes slip shut, he had moved and was sinking deep into you. 

“God fucking dammit,” he hissed, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to last too long tonight. “Fuck me, Matty. Show me how a champion would pound this pussy.” It was like lighting a fire from within, he began fucking you senselessly. 

You had never cum so much in your life. It felt like the entire time was spent enveloped in the most wonderful orgasm you had ever experienced. Knowing the dirty words leaving his mouth was no aid to you. Being completely wrapped up in him was always the best thing in the world, Matty filling all of your senses.

There was nowhere else you would rather be. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Exclaiming as he emptied himself into you. He was shaky, arms no longer able to hold himself up, he collapsed onto you. Your hands traced lazy circles on his back, fingers dancing along his scalp. You peppered kisses all over him, wherever you could reach.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” You whispered to him in the darkness, he snuggled closer to you, breathing you in. Grounding him back to reality, knowing that as of tonight his life was no longer the same. 

Matthew Tkacuck was a Stanley Cup champion. But he knew that he held his prize every night when he slept. He was only able to murmur out a I love you so fucking much before the snores echoed into the room.

Tomorrow held all sorts of promise and you couldn’t wait.